#oh how your existence keeps my soul eternally at ease | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lengthofropes · 3 years

Text

POVs series

Part 3: Jack

(Part 1: Cas is here) (Part 2: Sam is here) - can be read as separate stories

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words: 5,4k | smr: Jack’s POV as Cas returned from the Empty / Heaven rebuilt | read on A03

rating: general | warnings: none

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This is my little contribution for dadstiel week <3

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“Any thoughts?” I ask.

Castiel looks around. The room is empty. Light within the white walls and ceiling is flashing every few seconds. Heaven looks like abandoned office building after significant staff cuts.

“It’s so quiet here” he says. He looks despondent. “This place was so full of power and light. My brothers and sisters… If I knew it all will end this way…”

I come closer and touch him by the arm. This must be hard for him, I understand, but this is why we are here - to fix. This is why I asked for his help, who else can be a better adviser?

“This is not the end, don’t say it. We are here to make a new start”

He looks at me, and slowly his face eases from pain and regret. I know, he believes in me. Like always.

“Will you help me? I can’t make it without you”

He smiles, finally. It’s a warm smile, full of gratitude and love.

I made a right decision, now I’m sure, he is glad to help. But after all, he’s the one who taught me, that it makes you feel so much better, if you’ve got the opportunity to make things right.

“Sure, Jack” he nods. Then adds, quietly “Thank you…”

I smile back at him, I can’t hold it. This is going to be great! Energy fills me. We always have so much fun, working together, it feels encouraging to have him near. No matching ties this time, but it’s okay.

It’s good that time flows differently here. We got so much work to do… and when I will bring him back on Earth, it’s gonna be just a couple of days, I guess? At least I hope I won’t take us longer, I’m not sure I can handle another conversation with grumpy Dean. It’s hard to keep a straight face, when he’s like this. Yeah, I understand he’s worried and he doesn’t want to let Castiel out of his sight, but he’s gonna be with me. With ME, Dean! I need my father’s help with something, can I spend some time with him, too?

I’ve waited enough time for Castiel to feel better again. Until he’s strong enough after coming back from the Empty. All is well now.

All is good.

“Alright!” I clap my hands. “Where do we start?”

***

We walk empty corridors, discussing our strategy.

“Angels were supposed to be guardians, shepherds.” Castiel says. He’s calm and thoughtful. “We were born to protect our father’s creations. We are soldiers on guard of peace and prosperity. Not the blunt instruments of war.”

“I guess you are the only one who understands it right” I nod.

He is. He was bullied so often for having too much heart, it’s ridiculous. By the creatures, spoiled with pride, lust for power and profit. Where are they now?

“You’re too kind” he smiles humbly.

“I am the way I am, thanks to you. Thanks to our family.” It’s a simple truth, and we both know it. His smile grows, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

The light is flickering again, but much more intense this time, walls are shaking.

“It’s getting worse…” There’s concern in Castiel’s voice. “I am amazed this place is still holding on.”

“Yeah. Not enough angelic power. I remember Dumah tried to make me create angels beings by forging human souls, to return Heaven it’s might.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, definitely not the best one of his memories. But hey, not my fault, anyway. Besides…

“They all are dead now. It was a bad idea.”

“Any manipulation with human soul is a bad idea. What was she thinking?” He seems to be still angry about that. And I fully support him, but the question stands.

“I don’t think we can rebuild it in any other way. Heaven needs angels, they are the essential source of it’s power.”

Shaking has stopped, the light is dim, but at least it doesn’t flicker anymore.

“I know”, Castiel agrees with heavy exhale. “How many are left there? Nine? Ten?”

“Eight” I purse my lips. “Seven up here, including Naomi, who’s still in jail”

“Still?”

“Yeah. Seems like no one likes her…”

“I can’t blame them” Castiel deadpans, and it makes me laugh.

“And Anael, she’s still on Earth”

“Oh, the famous businesswoman”

“Yeah.”

He gives me the look.

“Should we… talk to her?” I don’t want to, but I have to ask anyway.

“We should” he says unenthusiastically. “But…”

“Not now?”

“Not now” he agrees, squinting his eyes.

“Later”

“In the last place”

“When she will rethink her life choices”

“Absolutely” he nods again, dead serious.

I crack first and he follows immediately, it’s good to hear his laugh.

We keep snickering, passing the heaven rooms. Number 257, number 259… This corridor seems endless.

“You know,” I start. “When I first got here, I thought it looks more like a prison. Or! Like an aquarium for a goldfish!”

“Small tank for a single soul?” Castiel raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah! And people here are like a fish. You know, goldfish has a 3 seconds memory? It forgets everything, before it starts another round in it’s tank”

“Like people here, captured in never-ending loops of their best memories…” he continues my thought, musingly tilting his head. “Yes, exactly.”

“And they are happy. Mom looked happy, I think…”

“You’re not sure?”

“Would you be happy on your own forever? Even in your best memory?”

“They don’t feel like they are on their own, they exist within a moment of eternal peace.” He shakes his head. “But I got your point. They don’t have a freedom of choice, they don’t know it’s a loop. Goldfish souls…”

I stop. He looks at me, and I see the question rises in his eyes, along with the hope for the answer.

“Can we…”

“..give them the choice?”

We look at each other, knocked out with the idea itself.

“Jack… this… this is wonderful!”

“You think? This will make them happy? I mean, happy for real?”

“You know what…” his face is focused, he tries to remember something. “Actually, we can ask. Dean once told me about one friend of theirs. I don’t know him in person, he died before I met Winchesters. But he’s here, he broke the loop, and figured the way to travel between individual heavens.”

“Oh, I know! Ash!”

“Right... “He seems a little confused. “I have to get used to it. You know everything now. Of course, you know everything...”

***

Sure, we didn't break in right inside, we knocked on the door politely. Jo (I know, it’s her, she’s very nice!) opens the door.

“Cas??” She’s amazed, but her smile is so genuine, I like it.

“Hi, Jo” Castiel is surprised too, but he takes her attack hug very well.

“Mom!” She yells. “Mom, look who’s here!!!”

“Joanna Beth, quit yelling, for God’s sake!”

We enter the bar and see Jo’s mother. I never thought someone’s heaven can be an old bar, all smelled with beer and peanuts, but here we are. And I like the smell, actually. It fits very well.

“Castiel? Well, I’ll be damned!” She puts down the glass and walks out from behind the bar counter. “Come here, you feather ass!”

She squeezes him tight, but he’s okay with it, he looks very happy.

“Who’s the kid?” She nods in my direction.

“Hi, I’m Jack!” I smile and raise my bunch of fives in greeting.

“Yes, this is.. this is Jack. He is..”

“I’m new God”

“You’re… who?”

“…he’s WHAT?”

“It’s a long story.” Castiel purses his lips, as he alternately looks at Joe, then at Ellen. Their eyes are wide, but it makes them no less brave.

“Then sit and talk, we have all the time in the world here. And are we yearned for the news, you know.” Ellen beckons us to the counter with a nod.

“Sure” Castiel agrees. “But where’s Ash? We thought we’re gonna see him here, isn’t it his heaven?”

“It is” Jo sits on the stool. “Our looked exactly the same. And when he found us, we kinda decided to move. He got all his stuff here, and it’s easier to travel from this starting point.”

“So you travel between heavens too?” Cas asks.

“Yeah, but not so much as he does. It’s better to have such opportunity, then to be locked, anyway. I mean, we don’t complain, but…”

“We were shocked when we saw him first. But then he explained. A lot of things, actually, about how everything works here.” Ellen continues, putting four glasses of beer in front of us. She looks at me suspiciously. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Oh, I’m three”

Her eyebrows are high again, but Castiel just shakes his head.

“He can drink, Ellen. That’s okay”

“Oh yeah? And who are you, his dad?”

“He is!” I confirm. “Well, actually, my father is Lucifer, but Castiel raised me. Castiel, Dean and Sam”

Jo chokes on her beer and Castiel pats her back gently.

“I guess I have to explain a lot of things, too” he apologises.

“Please, give us a favour… And I think we’re gonna need something stronger here…” Ellen takes a bottle of tequila from the shelf. “Don’t worry, no hangover here”

Door slams loudly.

“Whooo! Look who’s back, ladies! I gotta say, Cliff Burton is a really nice dude in person. He…” A man in colorful mask and a gold cape runs inside the bar.

“Oh..” He freezes, looking at us. “A company?”

“Ash, this is Castiel and Jack. Guys…” Ellen smiles to us. “This is Ash”

***

I wander around the bar, eating salted peanuts. Really tasty, I like it. So many cool pictures on the walls, the pool table, music box. I think this place is awesome! Castiel continues his story, he’s somewhere near to the mark of Cain. Guys sit around and listen with genuine interest, I’ve lost count how many glasses they’ve had already. They cried a lot, they laughed, too. Of course. This is the most amazing story ever!

“So, we’re here with Jack to make Heaven a better place” Castiel finishes. “And we wanted to ask you about the travels between individual spots. Are you the only one who’s capable of that?” He looks at Ash.

“Well, I guess I am” He sounds so proud of himself, trying to hold back the burp. “I’ve never seen anyone else doing it, only me and my friends”

“And you can travel anywhere?”

“Mostly” he scratches behind his ear. “Some places cannot be located with my scanner. It’s not powerful enough, I assume”

“We can’t find dad” Jo interrupts. She looks sad. “We don’t know why. We even thought, that maybe… maybe he’s not here”

“Bill Harvelle is in Heaven, as far as I know” Castiel sounds concerned, looking at me.

“He is” I nod in confirmation.

“Well,” Ellen smiles bitterly. “Good to know”

We are silent. Suddenly Heaven is not a happy place at all.

“You know what’s weird?” She says. “We didn’t even think of him. I mean… We remembered him, sure. But we… Dammit, it’s so hard to explain! We were like in a bubble, before Ash came. A happy bubble, no regrets, no worries…”

“No thoughts. Just bliss. Perfect loop” Castiel follows.

“Totally” Jo agrees. “You know, all your life you believe, you’re gonna meet your loved ones here, someone you miss the most. And then it turns out you’re just being canned in a piece of your happy memory. And no one complains, because no one… acknowledges.”

“The more I listen, the more I am convinced that this place was created without the slightest consideration of the real needs of the human soul” Castiel sounds bitter, utterly disappointed.

“Because no one cared to listen” I’m sad too.

I know what my happiest memories are, they all are full with the people I love. Jo is right. Leaving people blindfolded is not an option, they deserve so much better.

“Well,” Castiel stands up from the stool.” Now we know, what our priorities are.”

“Looks like a lotta work, you guys need some assistance?” Ash drums his finders on his glass.

“Thanks Ash. We’re not sure yet, but if we will, we know where to find you.”

“You’re cool, and I like your hair very much!” I add.

Compliment makes Ash fidget in his chair, but he is pleased.

“Thanks! You both look cool too” he raises his eyebrows approvingly.

“Yeah, by the way” Jo bumps Castiel’s shoulder with her fist. “So unusual without your trench coat, much better now. Love the T-shirt!”

“Uh, yeah… thanks,” Castiel awkwardly fiddles with the zipper on his hoodie, I think his cheeks blush?

“Wait…is this… Dean’s?” Jo squints her eyes examining familiar print.

“Yeah, I umm… haven’t got a chance to buy a new clothes yet.” No doubt. He’s blushing. “So Dean just… um.. borrowed me some of his old.” He deliberately takes a gulp from his glass to cover his sudden shyness. I don’t understand why to be shy about this, but it’s none of my business. Harvelles quit their interrogation too.

“Now, where to next?” Castiel ask, as we walk out of the bar. He tries to fix his hair after particularly heartful goodbye hugs they gave him.

“Luchbreak?”

***

We sit on a roof of Chrysler building. It’s a room 566297335, this guy’s best memory is finally getting a promotion and moving to the bigger office with a spectacular view. All people are so different…

“So,” my mouth is a little too full with burger, but I’m too excited to chew slower. “Travels between the personal rooms?”

Castiel sips his coffee thoughtfully, his gaze is fixed on the horizon.

“Yes,” he nods carefully. “This concept is inspiring.”

He’s quiet for the moment. Fake New York is silent around us, no buzzing cars, no human voices, no wind. Still, it’s a beautiful decoration, never-ending spring sunset, coloring the streets with warm and soft orange palette.

“Among the many things I’ve seen for the past years being on Earth, purity of human soul enraptures me the most. It’s vulnerability and integrity. People are so fragile, so defenceless. Life is ruled by their emotions and feelings, and they live it in the eternal search for a soul that will make their own feel accepted as it is. And this... This is the most beautiful thing.” He looks at me, endless warmth and placidity in his eyes.

“You think, we really understand it? Human soul? You and I?”

He smiles.

“I don’t think it’s something that can be understood completely. I doubt that a person is able to understand their soul, not to mention the soul of another human being. But we can listen attentively.” He looks at me. “The least we can do, is be kind and do not confine anyone's freedom. We had a good teachers.”

“Yes… No more cells” I nod affirmatively.

“No more cells” Castiel agrees.

***

We’re in the white room, a map of old Heaven lays on the table and we keep studying it. Castiel rubs his eyes constantly.

“You know what, it’s too old school on paper, let me make a 3d hologram…” I click my fingers and it’s done. ”Better?”

Castiel blinks few times and comes closer to observe.

“Yes, way better! Thank you, Jack” he puts his hand on my shoulder, smiling at the new workspace.

“It’s still so… flat” He adds.

Indeed, Heaven looks like endless paper sheet, ripped out of squared notebook.

“Yeah…” I’m not impressed too. “I’ve always thought Heaven is much cooler place.”

“We should work on a structure” Castiel mumbles. “Now it’s just enormous amount of cells, each decorated in it’s own style. And if we want them to be connectable…”

“Maybe we should remove the walls entirely? Like, make one big space?”

Castiel blinks.

“We- can we do it?”

“Sure! We can make it look like anything we want. Like a Disneyland. Or a Death Star!

“I don’t think Death Star is acceptable reference here” Castiel tries to hold back his smile.

“Coruscant?” I may be overly enthusiastic over this idea, but why not?

“No.” He’s very gentle, but I got his point.

“Endor?” This is my last try, I promise.

“I was thinking maybe… Earth?”

“Oh!”

“Basically, we already have different parts here, from all the ages and territories. So, maybe we…”

“Yes! Combine them together!” This is so simple, I love it!

Cas is hesitant again, there’s a doubt on his face, forehead frowned.

“But won’t this cause a turmoil? The Earth has looked very different throughout it’s history. And each soul remembers it in it’s own way.”

“So? Time and space aren’t a thing here. We can create a collective image, a collective space. We won’t even have to make a large effort, people’s memories are our best designer. Our Heaven can consist of any number of layers. It already is! Remember Ash? He travels through Heavens from different countries and different eras. Nothing is impossible here”

“This.. this sounds so simple?” I can see, he slowly accepts the idea.

“Well, the concept is simple. But we definitely got a work to do.”

He smiles. Wide and inspired.

“It’s wonderful, Jack!”

“Yes. But the main question is, how many angels do we need to make it work?”

Castiel’s smile fade.

“Yes… Angels,” he exhales heavily.

“Cas..?”

He walks around the table and sits in the chair. He rubs his forehead, looking down on the floor, I cannot see his eyes.

“Castiel?” I come closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… I understand, you can create angels now. From a scratch, like Chuck… God… used to. This is what you’re going to do?”

“Yes.” I nod. “In fact, they are going to be my first children”

I’ve thought about it. Not that I’m terrified with the responsibility, not that I have doubts. This is just… something absolutely new. Not even like bringing the entire population of Earth back. The creation. Pure.

“And I’m going to give the living ones their wings back” I smile. I hope this will bring back my father’s good mood.

He smiles, but I know he still blames himself for the angel’s fall.

“This is great, Jack, this is wonderful!”

“But, you’re sad?”

He’s quiet again. I guess I know what he’s thinking about now. But I wait… he’s gonna tell me himself.

“I just think… I keep thinking, if they would have been happy? To see Heaven, all new, peaceful and powerful. All my brothers and sisters, who…” He stutters, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. The names, so many names.

“Samadriel.” He continues. “Hanna, Kelvin, Ezekiel, Muriel, Inias, Nithael, Rebecca, Joshua, Sofia, Ambriel, Zuriel… even Anna. And all those fools, who followed Metatron… or Bartholomew. Poor ones, who got their brains washed by Raphael.” His voice is very quiet. “And… Balthazar”

“I think it would” I can feel his pain, it curls around him, pulls him into the abyss of regret. “I- I hope so… All I know is that they are sleeping now, they are at peace, Castiel. No more screams in the Empty”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I remember” He rubs his face, like he wants to clean the sadness off it.

“I’m sorry, Jack.” He tries to smile. “I shouldn’t be so…”

I put my hand on his shoulder, calmingly, softly.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

***

“Ready?” Castiel looks at me fondly, and I crack my fingers with much enthusiasm.

“Yes! Absolutely”

“Just make sure they are not… dicks” he gives me the look and I nod approvingly.

“Will do!”

My hands are warm, I can feel the power flows inside me. Concentrates in my fingers, making them tremble. It starts with soft glowing, eventually increasing into a stream of light, that gathers into a luminous ball between my palms. It turns and grows, and it shines so bright. The light within the walls and ceiling of the white room is flickering too, encouranging me to continue.

“Hello!” I smile and raise my hand in greeting. “Welcome to Heaven. You are my first angel”

Angel looks at me, confused and bewildered.

“I like him.” I smile at Castiel. “I’m gonna name him Luke!”

He just laughs, he doesn’t argue.

We got so much work to do today.

***

“HWW!” His face is pure smugness. He turns the screen of his homemade laptop for us to take a look, but honestly, we don’t seem to follow.

“Hw-w?” Cas tilts his head. “Is that a reference? I- I’m afraid, I don’t get it, Ash”

“Yes! HWW!” Ash repeats, but his smile slowly fades, as he understands that we really have no idea what he’s talking about. “Guys, come on! Really?”

He said this project is something extremely important and cool, and it will be the fundamental part of New Heaven. But we don’t get it.

“World Wide Web! But it’s Heaven, so its’ gonna be the Heaven Wide Web!” He raises his hands above his head and shakes them victoriously. “Ta-daa!”

“The… Internet?!”

“Yes!” He slams his hands on the desk and starts typing something on keyboard. “Okay, I was thinking... Every soul is unique, right? It has it’s own structure, vibe.. whatever. And it’s own individual number here, right?”

We nod.

“What if we use it like the IP-address? And each soul will get it’s personal access point to the general communication centre? Just imagine, you can connect with any person you want.”

“Like texting!”

“With emoticons?” Cas smiles.

“Exactly. Heavenly social media.”

“With profile page and cat memes?” I like this idea more and more.

“Anything we want!”

“But wait… how do we explain it to souls from the past eras?”

“Easy.” Ash winks at Cas. “People have invented millions of ways to communicate with each other since the beginning of time. We can stick with anything usual for each period. Like, Shakespeare won’t need to use a phone, pigeons will fly to him through the window, bringing the message. “Hey, William, I’m your biggest fan from 1978. Can I come for a cuppa tea to discuss The Merchant of Venice?” And some hairy dude, who lives in a cave, will see new petroglyphs appear on the walls. You get me?”

“Ash…”

“Yeah, I kinda came up with this long ago… You break into someone’s Heaven, and sometimes they’re not very happy to see you, they don’t know, what the hell is going on. I remember Jimi chased me around the room trying to hit me with his guitar, thought I was a particularly vivid hallucination…” he adds dreamily. “So yeah, it’s way better to be able to send a message first, you know? To be connected, in general. And if you guys gonna break all the loops…”

“Ash. You’re genius! You really can do this?”

He shakes his head, adjusting his luxurious hairstyle.

"Already wrote an algorithm”

***

“They are truly so full of light” He’s just finished his conversation with the last one of the newly created angels, and he looks contented, considering the peaceful smile on his face. “Jack, they are wonderful”

“Of course. I intended them to be like you.”

“Like…” his eyes widen in astonishment. “Like me?”

“Yes.” I say simply. “You’re the best example I know.”

I feel his emotions. They overfill him, shine with the sparkle in his eyes, brighten every wrinkle on his face, warm the air through his skin.

The light. The love.

“Guardians, shepherds.” I continue. “Born to protect the peace and prosperity. Not the blunt instruments of war.”

“Jack…”

“All with a little too much heart. But no one will ever call it a crack in their chassis”

***

It doesn't look like a decoration anymore. Now I know what makes Heaven a Heaven.

People’s emotions. Feelings of joy, security, serenity. Warmth of loving hearts. And freedom, of course.

We are standing on the top of the mountain, mesmerising view of all the work done lies in front of our eyes. Castiel takes the last piece of broken wall, lying in front of his feet, it fades and shrinks in his palm, until vanishes completely.

“That’s it” He smiles. “You did it, Jack”

“No,” I shake my head. “WE did it. I couldn’t have done this without your help and support. Without your faith in me. Thank you”

I mean it. Everything I did, everything I’ve become. Impossible without him.

“Thank you, father”

We hold each other, like we used to. I’m sure, this is not our last hug, but it feels like the most important one. I put all my love and gratitude, all my devotion into this embrace. I want him to feel, to know, how much he means to me, that nothing has changed in my feelings for him. He is my father. And forever will be.

Angels, new and old, stand behind us, their wings shine in the light, casting glare on grass and trees. Сalmness and confidence on their faces, they are beautiful in their might and purity. I did a good job, I must admit.

“And now” I say, pulling back to look into Castiel’s eyes “We deserved a little celebration, don’t you think?”

“Agree” he smiles.

I click my fingers.

It’s the familiar bar. We appear, and the air explodes with loud cheering noises.

“What…” Castiel starts, but gasps with amazement.

It’s a good company, it’s the part of our found family. I don’t know all of them in person, but I’m familiar with their stories, all so important and irreplaceable.

Red haired woman is the first one to attack Castiel with a hug.

“Charlie!”

“Hey, big guy!” She laughs, bumping his shoulder. “Looking good, bitch!”

“Yeah… I-“

He has no chance to finish, Kevin attacks him next.

“Kevin…”

“Okay, okay! Back in the line, kid. Have some respect for the elders!” Bobby pushes him aside laughingly, and he and Mary step closer for a hug.

Castiel is bewildered, I think he might cry, but he holds himself together good so far.

Pamela, Mick and Jimmy finish the circle of greetings. Jimmy looks a bit awkward, like he’s not sure, if he has the right to be here. This is weird. Sure he has!

“Cas looks a little strange without his trench coat, don’t you think?” I hear from behind. I smile to the familiar voice.

“Hi, mom…”

Her hands are delicate and warm on my cheeks, she’s beaming with love.

“Hey, baby”

***

Everyone’s busy with yelling their drink orders to Jo and Ellen, Ash turns on the music box, as if bar isn’t full with cheerful chatter and laugh already. Cas and Kelly are the first ones to get their drinks, and now they stand aside, chatting cordially with each other. My mom and my dad. I don’t interrupt, they surely have a lot to talk about. And I…

I need to talk with a mother, too. But not with mine. There she stands, my dearest friend and my biggest regret, my horrible mistake and undeniable fault. And she smiles to me.

“Hello, Jack”

I can’t speak, her voice made me numb. I just look, I keep looking into her blue eyes, trying to find an accusation in them, sorrow, at least, but I don’t see anything alike. She is smiling her softest smile.

“What, you’re not even gonna give me a hug?”

“Mary, I…”

“Oh, come here!” She pulls me closer and wraps her arms around me. Suddenly, words burst out from the inside, an endless stream of remorse and guilt.

“Mary, I’m so sorry! I am so sorry, I didn’t want it to happen… It was so terrible, and I… I didn’t mean to, but it was my fault. I…”

“Jack…” she tries to interrupt me.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?”

“Jack!” She holds me so tight. “Jack, it’s okay…”

“You deserved so much better, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.” She pulls back, looking into my eyes. “I know it was an accident. Please, stop blaming yourself…”

“But it was my fault!”

“Jack!” She cups my face with her palms, her voice is calm and soft. “I don’t blame you. So please, stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t even you, real you.”

The tight knot in my chest looses a little. I know her sons have forgiven me, but to hear it from her… it changes everything. I feel like I’m finally free.

“We all have our path, mine has led me here. And I regret nothing, Jack. I’m at peace, I am happy here.”

“But your sons…”

“I can wait” She smiles. “Now I know, we’re all gonna end up here. And now Heaven is just… perfect! Thank you for this.”

Castiel is standing next to her, I didn't even notice how he came up closer to us. Mary puts her hands on our shoulders, squeezing them firmly.

“Thank you both! And if you want to do something nice for me,” she raises her eyebrows, looking me straight in the eyes “…make sure Sam and Dean die of old age lying in their warm beds, okay?!”

Maybe my eyes are sparkling with tears, but I nod, smiling broad and confident.

“Of course!”

“Not so difficult, considering that there’s an angel looking over them” she winks at Castiel, making him smile softly.

“Oh, about that…” I interrupt.

“What?”

“I think… someone is tired of spending his time, being a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent”

“Jack…” Castiel is looking at me with a slight confusion on his face. “What are you…”

“You still haven’t asked for your wings back.” I say quietly.

He hesitates, I can see the uncertainty and worrying in his eyes.

“I.. I just thought…”

“Because you don’t feel like you need them anymore.”

He looks down.

“Castiel?” Mary’s voice is gentle and mild, she leans to him, trying to catch his eyes. I guess… she understands. “Remember… remember that one night? I just got back from the dead, and I was so lost. We bumped into each other, in the bunker?”

He rises his head, looking at her attentively.

“Yes”

“I asked you, about the Earth, when did it start to feel like...like you fit, like you...belonged there? Remember? And you said…”

“I'm still not sure I do.” Yes..”

She smiles.

“And now, after everything…? I know what you did, Castiel. For us, for our family, for humanity in general… and for him. Do you know now?… Do you belong?”

He looks at her with gratitude. His face lights up, as if the last piece of the puzzle has been found and snapped into place, making him complete.

“Yes. I do”

“Well,” she laughs warmly. “Growing old must be fun. I don’t know, I never did!” She kisses his cheek. “Tell them, tell my boys, I’m happy here, tell them, I don’t regret a thing, okay?” They hug, and he nods into her shoulder. “And tell him…” she whispers cheerfully into his ear. “…tell him, he’s lucky as hell!”

Castiel can’t hold back the smile, and his cheeks flush with joy.

“Okay. Promise!”

Mary squeezes him in her arms once more and pats his shoulder, before walk off with a widest smile on her face.

“Jack. I…” he starts.

“I know.” He doesn’t needs to explain anything.

“Your grace is still in the process of being restored, but if you want, it can just ... vanish over time” I shrug and I smile. “Growing old with someone is what people do, right? Humans.”

He rubs his eyebrow with a soft and quiet laugh.

“Yes, they do…”

“And you both gonna eventually end up here, you and him.”

“Not the worst option, I guess” He smiles.

He looks at all the people in this small wooden bar, their faces are full of joy, their laugh is light-hearted. Company broke into unexpected duos, like Kevin and Ash, discussing some technical stuff over Ash’s scanner, or Pamela and Mick sharing their theories on the matter of astral projections. This will be the the most popular spot in Heaven, probably. But now…

“Tell me when you’re ready to go back.”

“Yes. Only need to collect all the messages from everyone, to pass them to Sam and Dean personally. Probably, not only to Sam and Dean…” he waves at Jimmy.

“Of course! We have all the time in the world here”

“Yes,” he nods. “We’re not in a rush”

We’re not in a rush, father. Take your time, you deserve to spend it with people, who care about you.

Both on Earth and in Heaven.

You are loved.

***

tag list:

@donestiel @sinnabonka - @you-cant-spell-subtext-without - @casthyelle - @saltyghostsworld - @bebecas - @sammy-501 - @dtadeancas - @highvoltagejackles - @subtledean - @kaz2y5baby - @angelic-bee-enthusiast - @bimiserables @gabrielle-main @acklesology @highkey-dysphoric @lila-tom @teddybluesclues @moonlightdeancas @transfoundfamily @bichaoticdean @transdean

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strangerobin · 3 years

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Rue: Chapter 1 (A Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Summary:

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

A chance encounter reunites two lost lovers centuries after their devastating break up. One hardened by life and providence, has forgotten what it is to love and be loved; while the other though hurt by love, has lost neither hope nor heart. When the two worlds collide once again, will it be disaster waiting to happen, or the brink of a new horizon?

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

But you know that I could never stay.

No amount of love or the ring you put on my finger will ever change that.

Save it. Save it for another that will be dearest to your heart, someone who could love you equally, unconditionally, honestly.

For I am underserving. I have much in my life that I wish I could explain to you. Yet this back has been carrying far more that it was made to shoulder already. And I cannot possibly burden you with anymore than you deserve.

So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.

To spend a lifetime with you.

Body and soul.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying in futile to calm the anguish that was threatening to leak out of his body.

For a moment, he thought his dead heart was ready to burst anytime. But of course his heart had long since ceased its beating, and It had only left with him an equally terrible sense of emptiness.

Why had he decided to go over this again? To rip open scars that were long buried. Old memories that he should long have concealed, lost somewhere in the ocean of his long pitiful existence. He thought he’d be over this by now, after the millionth time. But clearly some things never truly die away.

With care he produced from a small velvet pouch-

A single diamond ring.

It glittered under the moon, splaying the light of a million rainbow everywhere it touched.

Just like how her eyes had shone that day.

When he got down on one knee and proposed to her.

Her mouth agape, lips quivering, staring at him in shock and disbelief. His stomach had churned then when she had simply stood there, dumbfounded; worried that he had taken a wrong move, that she did not love him enough to want to be tied down with him. That perhaps he was still too young, too poor to offer her the life that she deserved.

But then a single tear had dropped from her eyes.

And it was followed by another, and another.

He was thrown in a panic by then, unsure of the mistake he had committed but ready to make any amend just to stop the onslaught of her tears.

Except she had then tackled him to the ground, laughing amidst her tears. Murmuring into his ears, the answer that had only mattered to him.

Yes, yes, yes.

She had kissed him so ferociously that day, stealing his breath away as if she herself would be stolen away the next moment.

A thousand times yes.

And stolen she was indeed.

Left alone in the cold morning light, sheets crumpled from the night they had shared, her scent still lingering in the air. His heart had froze, left with only an emptiness that would rage within him for the next two centuries.

She had only left with him a note and her wedding ring.

Hers. Not his; because he could not tolerate the thought of it being anything else.

And an everlasting memory that would haunt him for the rest of eternity. An aching want and need, a desire left unsaid in the dead of the night.

In those terrible formative years, when he had just been turned, night after nights he would imagine the ghost of a lip, tracing up his spine. Warm breaths at his neck; the touch of a hand, cupping his face gently, as if he were made of glass. Sweet-nothings whispered, empty promises of a life that could have been, might have been. Except none of them were real and every one of which only a figment of his imagination and memory.

Some night he would go on a killing spree, desperate to escape from memories of her that had long since turned into a never-ending nightmare, his raging storm of emotions.

A century and a half later, there were still nights like these, nights where he would meticulously finger the exquisite cravings over her engagement ring. Her name a silent mantra, a prayer from his mouth to the gods he had once worshipped and forsaken.

The pain had dampen over the years but the scars had remained. And the memories still fresh. New companionship may have eased him out of his shell of sorrow. But while he may hold another in his arms now, how could he love anyone in half? When he had long since given away half of his soul to the one who had claimed as hers on that fateful day.

But that was another story for another day.

And his pitiful being could not bear the grief all at once on any given nights; it was alright to remember in portions and halves. That way he would not lose his mind to the remembrance of her then. The one he had lost but must continue to solider on without.

“Oh Adeline.”

“My sweet Adeline, why must you torture me so?”

On the run.

It seemed she was always on the run these days.

No permanent roof ever above her head; even the feeling of a soft pillow and a down quilt seemed foreign to her now. She was more familiar with green moss beneath her head and the stars as her canopy; clothes she snagged from stores, and meals of little preys here and there now. She was always careful not to leave a trace.

Stopping over at the riverbed to cleanse her dusty face; she mulled over her circumstances.

Family they- he, her father had called her.

And yet it was also him who made her life a living hell.

Always asking, always demanding for a hand, a chore to be done, her duties to him as her father, mentor, creator. And when she could not tolerate his iron fist of a control, she did the only thing she was good at.

She ran.

Companionship. Father had told her once. No one can live for long without companionship.

She would’ve proved him wrong then. Scoffed at him. Told him that creatures like them did not deserve anything but misery, and least of all a hint of humanity. Only humans crave company; they had sinned far too much to be deserving of any.

How much blood must be spilled, to satisfy his want for his so called companionships?

But even at times, she had been tempted. A short stay in a town, a job, an education, a short fling. Mindless chatters, a warm embrace to fall asleep to at night. Anything to make herself forget just for awhile how different she was, how she could never blend in with anyone. How over the years she had lost so much, she thought she might as well have lost her heart.

Except her strange family. Whom she completely despised. Mostly.

Ah how she missed those good old days. That one summer when everything was golden and life was simple; the scorching Texan sun, the swaying wheat fields, the straw thatch cottage and its warm hearth and Hettie’s hearty soups, Ralph’s incessant chatter. And those gentle brown eyes and that mop of flaxen hair, shining like golden peat in the summer sun-

She would not let her mind wander there now.

Lock the doors and throw away the key.

She needed to stay vigilant. Her family were not the only ones she was running from. There were more dangerous and mysterious beings out there, ones she did not dare cross. Every little shift in the air, whiff of smell was a signal to her instinct. Even a falling leave could be a sign of the things to come. And right now they were telling her to head north, pass the borders, and into the Canada. There would be ample food and her family would not think to look for her there. In time, she might be able to join a small community, live a life for a little while before moving on to the next.

Keep inland, you’ll be safe. Her instinct whispered.

But she wanted to see the ocean. And the Pacific Northwest coast was a marvel. She knew of a coven near the peninsula; but surely if she stayed to herself, she should be able to cross into Vancouver without a hitch?

Keep inland.

Her instinct only whispered on.

It was the scent she came across first.

The sweet invigorating smell of vanilla and washed linen, that of a babe’s. She froze unnaturally amidst her stroll; this was not the scent of a human, it was… it reminded her of her siblings. Of her kind.

Turnawayturnawayturnaway-

But curiosity got the better of her.

Surely, just surely, a glimpse would not hurt. There shouldn’t be any out there like her. None of the old kinds had the knowledge of… Father had confirmed of this. Or was he mistaken?

And as she tracked the child’s scent; she came into a large clearing of blooming heathers, yet not even the overwhelming floral scent could overpower the child’s scent.

There in the gleaming sun was a child of twelve or thirteen, bronze curls flowing in the air as she twirled around in peals of laughter. Her porcelain skin illuminated; and her heart was thrumming like a little hummingbird.

‘It cannot be.’ She whispered to herself in a daze.

Gasping, the child turned towards her at once, clearly finally discovering that she was alone no more. Initially agitated, the child was quick to drop her caution when she noted how the stranger was still in a trance, staring agape at her. Nor did she miss the equally alluring scent of the intruder, her soft glowing skin and the quick humming of her heart.

Timidly, the child shuffled towards her eyeing her with curiosity. Until the two were face to face each other, apprising the other.

“Are you perhaps…” Like me? Was the unvoiced question.

“Dear God, Child.” She finally found the strength within to muster a few shaky breaths of words, disbelief evidently dominating her countenance. “How is this possible?”

With shaking hands she cupped the child’s cheeks, tenderly stroking the smoothness of her cheeks and soaking up the warmth.

“What of your maker?” She swallowed thickly. “Is he treating you well, Child?”

“Do you mean my Mum and Dad, Miss?” The child furrowed her pretty brows. “They should be just around I think. If you would like to meet them…”

That broke her out of her trance and she immediately straightened her stance. This was dangerous, she was treading on thin ice. A child like her kind would not be left unguarded, her guardians were nearby and no doubt treasured her greatly, judging from her clean attire and priciness of her garments. Any contact would be deemed a threat. She had already overstayed her welcome. And she did not want a fight. Sure she was quick and escaping and hiding had always been a forte of hers, but should she engage in battle, there was no telling if she could even gain upper hand long enough for her to run.

“I must go.” She muttered gravely to the child.

“Wait Miss!” The child chirped in a sing-song manner, unaware of the gravity of the situation. “I’m sure Mum and Dad will be delighted to meet you! And grandpa he-“

Shit. Was this the coven Father had mentioned before?

The idea of meeting an entire coven made her stomach churn. She did not quite understand how the child had come to be, nor did she understand how the Volturi would allow such a coven to exist in plain sight. And she did not intend to find out.

“Child. Child!” She hissed, surveying her surrounding in caution now. “Listen, you must take care. There are people out there who will harm you without a thought or a blink. You must be careful, don’t be so trustworthy of any strangers now.”

She looked the child dead in the eye then.

“Not even me.”

“But you didn’t hurt me! I know you wouldn’t! And aren’t we the same?” The child pleaded imploringly.

“No, not even your kind. And certainly not me.” She smoothed the child’s hair gently and tucked them behind her ear. “Trust no one. Not even your makers.”

“That’s just sad then.” The child replied solemnly.

She stood up and straightened her jacket. “Well, it's a sad and pitiful existence that we lead, Child.” She smiled bitterly then and turned to go. “One day you’ll know.”

She was just about to run when she felt a tuck at her sleeves. Turning sharply, she eyed the child in confusion.

“My name’s Renesmee, Miss. What’s yours?”

She grimaced slightly; well so much for telling the child off, she mused.

“Adeline, my name’s Adeline, Child.”

In hindsight, Adeline really should have seen the attack coming. Her instincts had been screaming at her the whole time after all.

But in a moment of distraction, she had heeded her instincts too late. She did manage to subdue the attack at her jugular with a block, but was still hurled halfway across the clearing. Twisting her body, she managed to land in a crouch; eyes trained on her attacker. He was a strong built man- vampire, tall and handsome, the usual package. And she was surprised to find his eyes golden, not that there was much time to marvel at it. His crouching stance indicated that he was ready for battle and he bared his fangs at her, guarding his child protectively

“Stay away from my daughter.” He growled.

Adeline couldn’t help but rolled her eyes. “That, I had every intention of doing.”

“Stop! Dad! Stop!” She could hear the child- Renesmee crying in the distance. But there was no time for that now.

Leftleftleftleftleft-

Turning to her left, she kicked a pouncing werewolf right in the gut, slamming it into a nearby tree. Right. And then threw a punch at the female vampire that was ready to lunge at her right. Down. Blocked another blow. Shoulder. Landed a hit on shoulder of the she-vampire. Duck. Barely escaped from the wolf’s pouncing attack. Roll. And managed to withdraw herself from the fighting two.

With a final glance at the father and child; Adeline focused her mind in concealing herself before darting out of the clearing.

Promising to herself to avoid the Pacific Northwest at all cost from now on. Wary of the rest of the coven she would find there.

Not to mention the wolves.

And that was how Adeline came across the Cullens for the very first time.

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #angst #more angst

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fatedtime · 3 years

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hello i wrote this at 2am in a feral haze. the premise: confessing to Servants who would be Difficult About It until their master starts breaking down in the Lostbelts.

I'd like to do more but for now here's Bedivere and the Phantom of the Opera.

Bedivere

Oh, he breathes, and his face reddens from the effort of restraining tears because he is so, so very unworthy.

He knows it is neither dream nor trick, because the air is too sweet for a nightmare and you are far too sincere for those sorts of childish pranks. He cannot fathom what must have possessed you to say something like that to him - I love you, Bedivere in a voice that drowns in honey - and he plays dumb because Bedivere is such a very well-practiced liar.

How wretched that he wants you, he numbly thinks as you stutter and stammer before him. How horrible it is that he is such a greedy man.

(As if he is worth even kissing his Master's feet. He is a steward. A servant. A knight. How dare he let such desires bloom within him? How dare he feel as such for his lord?)

It is art, the way he avoids your confession. It's such a fine line to balance - he must not refuse you, because to do so would break your heart, but he must not accept you, for to do so would invoke upon you only shame. He hides in the shadows of plausible deniability, of being the dense, airheaded, gentle and pure Bedivere whose humbleness blinds him to the feelings of others.

He feels no pride when he brushes the topic away with an offer of tea and chocolates and ever more servitude, and you let the subject drop.

When had it happened, he wonders? What had he done? Bedivere is not an audacious enough man to think that he had seduced you, but he knew what a burden you held on your shoulders, and he knew that sometimes feelings of reliance and gratitude could be mistaken for... other things, feelings with a similar palatable sweetness.

That had to be it, he was certain. A mistaken, misallocation of emotion. Because if not, because if otherwise --

(His most important and sacred duty was keeping you safe and how could he do that if he shattered you to pieces? And of course he would, how could a man like him not end up doing so, it was his failure that had turned the King of Knights into the Lion King, his selfishness, and if you let him into your heart like that he knew he would do the same to you, he knew it he knew it and that could not be he would never let it be.)

These boundaries were necessary. He was supposed to protect you, among all other things. If you loved him, he could not protect you with everything he had, because the wounds sustained during that protection would wound you as well.

...He may not even be able to give up what was necessary, at the end, just like with the king he never wished to die, because the idea of a future with you would be too tantalizing to ignore.

And that is why he would lie to you, and suffocate this wretched flower blooming in his heart. Thorns pierced him as he smiled and bowed his head before you. You had lead him to a victory he had sought for over a thousand years, and in his cowardice, he would wield his sword for you forevermore.

***

You were breaking down, and he was watching it happen.

He wondered if this meant that he had learned from his prior failures with King Arthur, that he had even noticed it, or if you simply were too honest of a person to conceal your grief. Neither thought comforted him.

He did what he could to ease your burdens as you tore reality after reality between your fingers, condemning them while fighting for your own version of history. For all of his flaws, he was an astoundingly loyal man, and his trust in you never wavered once.

But still, he kept his distance. Though those words you'd said that day haunted him daily (and sometimes, nightly as well) he always asked himself this: what use was that sort of love under the weight of all your sorrows? You had far more important matters on your mind than pining after a ridiculous fool like him, he was sure and he told himself that his rejection had meant nothing.

Changed nothing.

Even though there were ever so many things he wanted to do, so many moments when he had to practice such restraint. He did not take your hand when the two of you walked side by side, even though - unoccupied - your nails drew blood from your palms. When you stood in the snow-fields of the Kingdom of Beasts, he waited behind you, watching as the wind stung your cheeks and never broaching that gap. How would a hug from him then change anything?

Would it have kept the warmth in you from slipping away?

One day, you looked up at the sky, and began to muse about the relationship between gods and men.

That back then, it had felt so easy to be defiantly human, but more and more you wondered about the righteousness of your cause. Did it even matter? Did this suffering, this agony even matter, or was it something that you long ago should have thrown away? You felt so far removed from other people now, so distant, and you wondered if this is what gods were like - deciding who would live and who would die.

"What separates me from the Lion King?" You cried, slamming your fist against the wall with your teeth bared into a pained snarl. "Preserving my desired humanity at the detriment of everything else in the world? Perhaps, back then, I was nothing but a hypocritical fool."

It was at that moment that Bedivere snapped.

Everything you were saying - he rejected it down to his very core. You were nothing like the Lion King, you could never be anything like the Lion King because you were so wonderfully, beautifully, terribly infuriatingly human and the things you fought for were flawed, broken, illogical, and human just the same. He wanted to scream at you that because you worried about these things proved you were nothing about that imperial woman, that your feelings mattered simply because they existed - that even if feeling was shitty it was also right - but he found that things got a little twisted when it came from the 'putting thoughts out of the mouth' department and, instead, got a little more direct.

More specifically, his mouth on yours.

When his brain finally caught up to his body, he had his teeth on your neck and his hands in some very unknightly places. He would have shoved himself away, apologized, gotten on his knees and begged that you behead him for his impropriety, but the parched soil of your spirit greedily drank in any affection he had to offer and, at this point, you could hardly let him go.

The partitions of distance had worn you away, left you chilled and frozen, and so fervently did you seek touch, warmth, honesty, especially from your trusted ally and the foolish man you happened to love. After tasting it, there was no turning back for you, and quite honestly, none for him either. Barriers had been torn, and in his arms, you cried for how vehemently you felt human once more.

Your mutual search for 'something perfect that will cause no pain' was a doomed one from the start, and wiping frozen tears away, he murmured, "Once more, I fear that I have kept you waiting."

Still, at the end, he faced his own cowardice, and it was enough to hold together a fractured heart for just a little longer.

Oh, there is joy, yes. There is such impossible warm joy, a radiant magma spilling through the ugly, malformed rot of his insides. It's the sort of rabid delight that drives a man to madness, and he sings to choke it down, sings of your beauty and your purity and your praises to the sun and moon and stars alike. It is how he disguises the disgusting urge within him to take you into the dark so he may envelope himself utterly in your light.

Phantom of the Opera

I'd say that you're going to destroy this entire man's career, but the truth of it is this: you are this man's entire career, and that is why the melodious lilt of those words devastates him so utterly.

...It’s not that he mistakes you for her -- Christine, that is, the songstress that he did such terrible things in his desire to claim. He knows you are the Master of Chaldea, and that the entirety of human history is the stage for your song of salvation. The power of your voice - your existence, and your ability to enforce your will upon the world - shall transcend time and space to stand against the Incineration of Humanity.

It’s more accurate to say that you are his Christine, the thing that defines his existence, because what would the Phantom of the Opera be without a Christine to love?

Oh, he knows his love is a terrible thing. Oh, he knows he is ugly because of it, and so wretchedly he wishes that he could be unrepentant like Kiyohime, could be unabashed like Serenity, could be fanatical in his desires like Minamoto no Raiko. But he knows what will happen if he does that, doesn’t he? He knows what will happen at the climax of this performance if he does not stretch the first and second acts into eternity.

You confess to him, this man that wishes he was truly a monster and not a monster of a man, and he wants to weep from the agony of it, of how much he wants to TAKE.

But he cannot do that. This is why he sings. For if the performance is still ongoing, he can stave off its terrible end, for he does not want to do harm to you, his light, his love, his foolish, glorious master. In the wake of your confession, he takes your hands with hands not meant for it, balancing your fingers on those delicate blades, and responds to it with an aria of how much he adores you in turn.

He may not be able to accept your love, because to do so would lead to him drowning you in the depths of his monstrosity, but the Phantom of the Opera will pour his soul into ensuring that you know that he loves you, he loves you, always and forever it is you, it is you, it is you --

(Even if that mental corruption twists it, and all he can say is Christine, Christine, Christine -- )

And so, he keeps the mask of monstrosity on. This is the part he has been summoned to play.

***

The distance torments him, the dance destroys him, and he recreates the illusions of his existence in a thousand new phantoms as he simply tries to survive as ‘another performance’ in your glory.

He loves you but will not be with you, this man who must admire you from afar. He has his role and you have yours, and the two of you are not lovers, even though the love you each bear for each other is aching in its desperation. Distance defines him, like the negative space in a photograph, and he cannot broach that barrier without the ruination of everything he so rigidly clings to.

This is how things are until the Lostbelts.

What is the difference between singing and screaming, he wonders, as he watches you condemning another world to its fate? What separates those distinctly raw vocalizations of agony? Because it still sounds like music to him, your wretched sobs as he watches you cry, and he can already see the ending to this tragedy, so crisp and clear like a stanza written in blood.

“Why do I have to be so human?” You had asked him, fingers tightening in his cloak. “It seems all I am destined for is the folly of human mistakes.”

It almost breaks him again, when you grab hold of him and nearly beg him to take you away, because he must be wrong, he has to be wrong, for you are not angelic or glorious or a light that will rise boldly forth to protect the world. If he still wants a thing as wretched as you, then he should lock you up so you can incinerate no more worlds underneath the force of your conviction.

“It might even make you a hero,” you breathe into his neck and - no, it does not almost break him, it does break him, but not in a way he ever could have hoped to expect.

The Phantom of the Opera knows that to keep you would be one of the greatest joys he could ever know. He would find some way to do it, and in that prison, he is certain he could return you to a state of glory untainted by the monstrous guilt weighing on your own heart.

But that is the one thing that he must not do.

Taking his mask off, he removes with it his false monstrosity. He is human as he kisses you. He is a human who kisses you to know and be known, to love and be loved, and in the tide of his want, he will let you drown all of your sorrows within him.

You are not Christine, because Christine does not actually exist. But because you are lovely and righteous and kind, he will give his everything to you, for you are the thing he shall love till the end of every world and then his own.

“Know me now, both in body and in soul,” he asks of you in turn, for if the actor who plays the Phantom of the Opera wants any other sort of role, this is the price he must pay. He can no longer maintain his perfect devotion, that perfect idealized love held at an appropriate length, because only a human - a human born with the gift of possibility - could ever change his role as he wishes to do, change his story and with it, your own.

“I will recast myself in a role that can be by your side,” he whispers into the darkness, and he closes the curtain around you with a blanket that blocks out the light. "For you, I shall be a pillar in your grief."

{Your saga will not end in tragedy; this, to you, he swears.}

#fgo headcanon #fate grand order #fgo #phantom #bedivere #me: its christmas what do i want to write?#hurt/comfort that's what #how far i have fallen that i have been sucked back into the fate rabbit hole to want to blog and write about it but #quarantine sucks so i'm allowed some measure of madness i suppose #fgo headcanons

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

#alle answers #winteriron #fic recs #have a great day as well!#hold-our-destiny

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

Text

Male Drow (Dark Elf Vevmis) x Human! Female Reader Part 5 (FINALE)

The final chapter to The Underestimated, so I hope you’ve enjoyed this five-part series. - Stay safe guys -

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The Underestimated Part 5 (FINALE)

Of the high shadows and prowling outlines, you acknowledged them as your demons and mistakes; even when you were locked away in slumber.

The seclusion swarmed you, it was just as cold and sharp as you had remembered it being; more so bitter than a fever.

The people: the people you saw, of the distressed faces of your mother and father, opposing of your wants and desires for medicine and to become a doctor, the subtle words of those who said you could never do what you dreamt of craving; their words wanting you to give up.

You were belittled, laughed at, told to give in and try something different, all while telling yourself one day, you would prove them wrong.

Maybe even in the eternal slumber between the states of existing and drowning, you could not even prove yourself anything, nor them.

You couldn’t remember much: the scuffle with the group of Drow, the pain you felt that had numbed in your flesh, Vevmis-- oh, Vevmis, was he okay? Alive even?

You didn't want to believe it, never in a thousand years, but you accepted that his kind hadn’t been so merciful with sparing his life. The darkness, was this what all Drow saw in the Underdark?

When you had to open your eyes, the reality was dim and sullen, the sky was overcast and drab, with the sound of rain flooding through, dropping down in buckets around you.

You could hear it properly: the sound of the drops hitting the roof of something with such force, smashing down like a wave over cliffs below.

You keened softly, shifting, your bones creaked with the make-shift bed that you laid on, where you felt the dull ache reside in your ribs, your head tender from how you had fallen.

There was a sound that vibrated beside you when you registered it, not realising someone was there, talking you through something thoroughly.

Standing before you was a high elf that had been described many times before in the books you had read: of knights who were bold and brave - he looked to be one with his rich gold-green mail; a bleeding star sigil in the breastplate.

He was towering like all the other elves except he was pale in complexion compared to Vevmis: pale-silver hair that came past his waist, braided back, it fell beautifully past his shoulders with little movement when he moved. He radiated the pride his kind held grandly; with his appearance made him look like royalty.

With a hard disdainful look; his eyebrows raised to you when you saw his features, his eyes carefully: one eye was as fair as spring growth, whilst the other had a long fading scar that reached just above his eyebrow arch and down the middle of the lid - the pupil the hue of dull clouded moss.

You watched his mouth move open and close, his eyes scrutinising you when you didn’t answer but rather gape. When you came around to it, you blinked owlishly. “What?-”

“Common? Do you speak Common?” He asked impatiently.

“I-Yes. I do.” You found your voice again, the hoarseness resided in the back of your throat and when you moved your tongue, it ached with the pain of veiled swelling. Your fragile hand came to touch at your throat waveringly rubbing it.

The high elf sighed beside you, bringing forth a cup from his grip, holding the back of your neck so you had no other choice but to take down the liquid, the cup coming to your lips. “Drink, it’ll help your head.”

“What- I-” You choked nearly between swallowing and talking, your words muffled as you took down the earthy mixture; as syrupy as marsh water.

You nearly gagged but took it down, squeezing your eyes tight as you drank it down with too much force, finally having it removed from you as you wiped your mouth from the slop. There was a consistent feeling in the back of your mind, driving you to speak the one thing you had been worrying you since you had come around.

“Vevmis-- where is Vevmis?”

“The Drow?” He leered at the one word, his face wrinkled. “Probably fighting my men. Provoking them of some kind.”

Your heart sank like lead in a river, dropping to the bottom, your eyes glaring back at the high elf once more for little regard. He sensed your disdain for his mockery, stepping away but keeping his posture stiff as bark.

“I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be most eased to see you awake.”

“Yes, uh, thanks-“

“Fenrith.” He coolly replied, leaving with not much else to say, leaving you surrounded by the deafening sounds of the weeping sky. You listened to the best of your abilities, hearing nothing but the rain pour heavy through the tent you were in, the only body surrounded by hundreds of empty ones.

A lost soul. You lamented. Perhaps that is what I have been in this life, nothing more than a nuisance. Your head was pounding, thrumming like a constant drum who’s percussionist is consistent in the rhythm and pace. A pair of shuffling feet heavy and chaotic could’ve sounded similar to the heavy rain falling around you, but your eyes had known well enough that the footsteps belonged to someone important.

The smell of rainwater strung up your nose when you heard the smallest of exhales released, a cold damp hand brought you out of your misery with a startle when it touched the knuckle of your hand.

Your name was spoken so soft you had mistaken a spirit to of been present at your bed instead of the Drow. Vevmis’ presence was dishevelled and unkempt, the rain had soaked his silver hair to look nearly greying in the dim light, his amethyst eyes so sharp and clear. “Vevmis.” You croaked, trying your best to shift to reach for him.

He noticed and with some tentativeness and wariness, came to the side of your bed and kneeled, his shaking hand came to hold at your head carefully, his eyes glistening with opaque drops that looked like rainfall. “I’m here.” His voice was gravelly as if he had been caught mid-screech and was trying to cool down.

“I—what happened?”

“A camp came through, just before we were to both be executed. A Band of the Faith regimented by whatever high lord ruled that area came and slaughtered them, putting each one of them to the sword, sweeping through them like butter.”

You were a loss for words, astonished. “They spared you though.”

“Hardly,” Vevmis had laughed humourlessly, his wine-red eyes flickering, “I knocked one of their teeth in when I had the chance to, another I broke their arm.” You chortled dryly, knowing that Vevmis would do such a thing. “they dragged me chained and bolted to the end of a horse, where we ended here in their camp. That was almost—” his light eyebrows scrunched in awareness, “that was almost three days past.”

You were left wordless, thinking about everything to yourself silently, the pressure of his hand on yours a soothing reassurance to bring you back to reality. “But I promised myself that as soon as you would wake up, I would get you out of here, no matter how.” There was a brittleness to his word as if the promise to you was everything you needed, but he knew more to the end of the story, a few pages ahead.

“You… wanted me to get back to my village, didn’t you?” You questioned softly. The Drow’s’s face fell downcast, full of emotion compared to when he had never once shown it anything to you but callousness in the beginning. “Vevmis, you know I cannot leave you.”

“But you could, and that is for certain. You could go and live and die in your quaint little village and live a wonderful life, with a husband and child, but what about me?” His irritation was not hot nor full of rage. It was him having to grasp at this being his only choice. “No matter where I go, my sister’s wraith will see to have me miserable in this life and beyond. No matter where I go, I shall never be welcomed.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at his words, the Drow hadn’t raised his voice nor show any tears. But he had shown you that there was a growing part of humanity he had that you had shown him and he had grown to accept one human. “You wish to become a doctor, but you will wish to become one in your village.”

“How so?”

“It has been your want, and you have that want to help people.” Vevmis accepted. “I cannot be happy anywhere.”

“I have a want- yes, but I also have learnt much more along this journey with someone who I did not believe would accept me.” You began. “There has been so much we have gone through and I will not stand to just have one person happy, Vevmis. I will not stand with it.”

He squinted his eyes quizzically to your words. “What do you mean, pet?”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you once, one that had the connotations to something sour and awful, but now, that little word had become something so much sweeter. “What do you dream of, Vevmis? The arrival of spring? Eternal wealth? To live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and live the rest of your days as a farmer?”

He had smiled at them all, but he had not said yes to any. “I could see spring every year and not miss it. Wealth only makes you happy for a short time, but not for forever. And to live on a farm spreading cow shit? Now, perhaps that would be your dream. I like no animals.”

He had cradled your face in his fingers, stroking the flesh there. “No, one thing would make me happy, and that would be to be beside you and live out the rest of our days in contentment.”

A soft groan had come from the pitched bed and the soreness of your bones and body when you had tried to sit up, Vevmis was hesitant in letting you when he helped you to the end. You had collected the strands of his moonglow hair, a small smile on your face when you had spoken.

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

The glare had been bright but heartening, it soft glows came in through the gaps of the sheltered interior, with the smell of buckwheat and hay strong in the air. Maybe a long time ago, Vevmis would never have believed he would’ve liked the long days of the summer, but he had grown to like many things.

His dirk had been shining and pure, the cool smooth silver-blue stone had been clasped in his hand when he sharpened the silver blade over and over again; his own state of euphoria and tranquillity that had lulled him into a dream of hope.

He couldn’t have lied if he said he didn’t like the smell of nature around him, the constant essence of being outside, with crops flourishing in an everlasting heat that grew throughout the day and never ended in the nights.

Through the afternoons when the sun was not so high, he found serenity through meditating, controlling his breathing and going into a state of silence, breathing in the past and exhaling the future. This, he found was the most peaceful thing about his days, resting and keeping out of the sun and seeking shelter for a state of serene.

He had been known he was being watched when a small sneaky snap of hay came from metres behind him, the noise that made Vevmis’ ears prick upwards immediately, a small smile gracing his features, pretending to remain oblivious.

The steadiness made Vevmis count in-between the waits, his breathing stilling as he awaited the strike, the moment for all to go stale and cold- “Gotcha!”

A squeal came when he had been as quick as a deer, he swiftly grabbed the culprit and raised them high above his head, the joyous sound of laughter filling the sweet air. The Drow lowered the small one down, his wine-coloured eyes assessing with false discipline. “You almost had me there.”

“Almost,” Vevmis had looked over the little one with curls of silver-white just as bright as his, dusky skin with freckles along the skin, bright eyes that no Drow had before. “but I’m becoming quick.”

“I could hear you as soon as you were by the door, Rayelle.” Vevmis grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “But you’ll get there.” He was swift to once again lift the little girl up and swing he around and about, her joyous giggles and squeals echoing through the barn. “Again, papa!”

“No, we must get inside before mama has a go at the both of us.” He said, before finally putting his daughter over his shoulders, her small dusty feet dangling just below his neck. “You’re not wearing shoes, pet.”

“No,” Rayelle grinned from ear to ear, holding her father’s silver hair in her round fingers, “mama told me to get you.”

“Ah, so you thought you could test your stealth on me?”

“Uh-huh!” She beamed, pulling at his long ears.

“Hmm, you will have to remember them for next time. It is dangerous not to have them out.” Vevmis hummed as he sheathed his dirk into its holster, knowing that his daughter’s eyes were on the blade when he put it away. “When will I get a sword, papa?”

“When you’re older.”

“But I am older than I was today.”

“When you’re older than you already are tomorrow.”

“Aww.” Vevmis knew she had been pouting, so he compromised. “You can have a pony or another goat. I know your mother would like another one of both.”

“I don’t want a pony.” Rayelle thought for a moment, giggling to herself as she blurted. “I want a dragon!”

“A dragon huh?” Vevmis chuckled warmly. “They smell and always burn things. They would be irritating.”

“But I’d get to fly! Like now!” Rayelle brought her arms out to both sides, swaying side to side as she screeched and roared. “I am Zirenth the Old!”

Vevmis rolled his eyes playfully, pretending to sway with her when she rocked side to side. “Come now, young dragon. Before mama dragon calls for us.”

The two had wandered through the long tall grass, watching over the endless sunset that was beginning to fall slowly across the horizon, a sea of trees below in the distance. Vevmis wondered had he hadn't gone with you and lived this life of solitude, what would his life be like now?

They entered through the back of the small home, the soft humming drawing Vevmis to the kitchen as he lowered Rayelle off his shoulders. The small home you had made five years ago had been filled with old scrolls of sepia and tubes full of crushed medicines and herbs, the constant smell of sage and mint burning in the air; a healer you had become and a good one too.

“You two back in?” You called. “Mama! I’m a dragon!” Rayelle pretended to breath fire when you came through to peer at the two, needle and thread you had put down as you picked your daughter up.

“Oh, and what a mighty one you are!” You exclaimed brightly, Vevmis watching from the side as he took in your matured features of the new wrinkles you had picked up and small fine silver-grey wisps growing through your roots. You had still looked beautiful in his eyes, no matter how much you had aged within the last few years.

Your eyes had been on him when he had looked to him, the glint that he had know a long time ago, bright and bold still. “But I see another one not too far. He is rather old too.”

He had chortled dryly at that as he neared to you, running his hands over your hips and along your waist. “My little family of dragons. Bold and daring, my two girls.”

You leant over to kiss Vevmis’ lips, earning an exaggerated “eww, that’s gross!” from Rayelle, before lowering her down. “Come now you two, dinner is ready. And this dragon wants to eat everything before it is consumed!”

Rayelle joined you with a linked hand as Vevmis joined behind, smiling broadly at the life he had made.

Maybe his luck wasn’t so thin.

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solohux · 3 years

Note

Hey, Lottie. I would love to read something about force ghosts Kylo and Hux. They both very confused, but it turned out that Hux was a little force sensitive all his life. If it's ok with you. Thank you.

First, there’s pain. There’s an indescribable burning in every fibre of his being, there’s the thudding of his body hitting the ground lifelessly.

Second, there’s nothing. Complete numbness. No body, no soul, no thoughts. What he once was is now gone, paralysed in time until heaven or hell decides to take him. Neither speak, neither want him. So instead, he lingers in the nothingness until someone claims him and brings him to this strange place, guiding him into existence again until his feelings begin to return. Sights and sounds and smells and tastes; so much familiarity again.

Lastly, there’s Kylo. Of course it’s Kylo, Hux thinks. Isn’t it always? That overbearing, brutish man with his amber eyes and crooked smile has been the only constant in Hux’s life for years. Why would he choose to leave him now?

“Hux? Wake up.”

It’s Kylo’s voice beckoning him into consciousness, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Hux follows it without question until he’s able to see clearly. But Kylo is different, so much younger somehow. Scarless, with unburdened eyes. He’s as radiant as the day they first met, when a nameless boy stepped off a ship into Hux’s life, unsure of his identity but certain of his destiny; to ruin Armitage Hux in the same way a storm would. Chaotic, unpredictable, and strangely relaxing to stand in the middle of and stare up at the rain.

“Easy,” Kylo says. Hux feels calmed by his words. “Slowly.”

“I feel strange,” Hux says. He blinks hard, finding himself staring up into the blackness of space, watching millions of stars pass by in ease. The ground is soft beneath him, though he’s sure that his layers of crisp uniform are cushioning him slightly.

“That’s why you need to take it easy.”

Hux sits up with Kylo’s aid, taking in their bizarre surroundings with a frown etched on his face. They seem to be floating high in space, able to breathe and exist amongst the very stars themselves. Beneath their feet is an endless drop into blackness, seen by the transparent walkway that they’ve been deposited on. Hux’s dormant fear of heights rears its ugly head and makes him shudder. Doorways surround them, showing them glimpses of their own memories; happy times together.

“Where are we?”

Kylo takes Hux’s hand and helps him to his feet, “This place has many different names. My Uncle called it ‘The Veil’. One of the few places where the gateway between the Force and reality is thinnest.”

“I don’t recall booking a tour of the galaxy’s most boring hotspots, thank you, Ren.”

“Hux.”

Hux is startled by the seriousness in Kylo’s tone of voice, reminded of their recent bitter days as nothing more than an obedient General and a careless Supreme Leader. Hux’s haze manages to be drawn away from the magnificence of this dreamlike place to Kylo’s face, finding his entire body shrouded in a blue glow.

A ghostly glow.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kylo asks, cocking his head.

Hux frowns. His hand is already on his chest before his mind registers his last few memories, his fingers tracing the place where a scar would be had he survived the shot—

Survived?

“Pryde.” The name burns like poison on Hux’s tongue, making him want to spit after uttering it. “Pryde killed me. Didn’t he?”

Kylo swallows hard, pouting. He glances down to take Hux’s hand in his.

“Yes,” Kylo says. “But you aren’t dead.”

“Ren. You realise how crazy you sound, don’t you? I’ve been killed but I’m not dead. Hmm?”

“Exactly,” Kylo pulls Hux closer to him, closer than they’ve been in months. It doesn’t fail to make Hux’s heart flutter in excitement. “The Force has let us live on. Don’t you see?”

“I’m dreaming,” Hux shakes his head in disbelief when he looks down at his own hands and sees the same eerie blueness that surrounds his body. “I must be. This—“

“Only happens to those who are attuned to the Force,” Kylo says with a relieved and joyous sigh. “Oh, Armitage. I knew you were special.”

Hux raises an eyebrow, pulling his hands free from Kylo’s hold. “Special? Special enough for you to abandon me and hurt me and act like I mean nothing? Now I know I’m dreaming. The Kylo Ren I’ve come to know would never be so nice.”

“You’re right.”

Shocked, Hux turns back to Kylo, finding him looking shy and ashamed, his knees twisted in as though trying to shrink into himself but failing. It’s...quite adorable.

“You’re right, Hux,” he continues, looking anywhere but at Hux. “I’m not that person anymore. I’m not that Kylo Ren. I’m sorry for everything. I thought I knew who I was before I died but...waking up beside you has confused me.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought I was Ben. I thought I belonged with the Light but then the Force brought me here, brought me to you, and all I want to do is be the man you fell in love with. For eternity.”

Around them, the stars seem to halt. Everything stops, even the memory doors blur and silence, waiting for Hux’s response.

The General sighs, looking at his hands. Force sensitive? Him? So it would seem. Should he question it? Probably—his logic is screaming at him to be falling to pieces at this madness—but he isn’t going to. It brought him back to his beloved Kylo. Here, at the end and the beginning of forever, the rest of the galaxy looks so small when the person who once was the most precious thing in your life is standing in front of you and asking to loved again.

“Ren,” Hux whispers, taking Kylo’s hand. “Kylo. Ben. Whatever you decide to call yourself. I have a better name for you.”

“What is it?”

“Mine,” Hux says, watching Kylo’s beautiful lips twist into a smile. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes. Yes, always.”

The stars move again, shooting past them but Hux has no need to make a wish. He has everything he wants here, and forever.

From across the other side of The Veil, the lonely figure of Anakin Skywalker smiles, letting a single tear fall. He turns and walks away, stepping down a set of stairs that lead him to his memories, filled with the smiling, beautiful face of his beloved, deceased Padmé. These memories are all he has of her, entering the portals through time to experience these moments again; at least his grandson can keep on making new memories with his soulmate in his stead.

#kylux #m:writing #force ghosts #I hope you like it darling! thank you for prompting me!

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

The Precious Diamond on the Swing

Summary: The swings at the local park always had a special place in both Kirishima and his daughter’s heart.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m pleased to share with you all my seventh story for @bnhabookclub’s Hero Camp Bingo event. This story is my second longest and the bingo prompt used was “Domestic.” I actually hit bingo :D! However, the event is still not over until August 31st. Hopefully I can churn out another two bingo stories.

Anyways, it’s been a while since I wrote something for Kirishima. When I saw the prompt, my mind went for him and I started brainstorming. This was the end result. Please note: Kirishima is a pro-hero and father!

I hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 3K+

Puffy white clouds floated leisurely across the peaceful blue sky. The sun’s rays burst through the clouds, basking the quiet playground under a soft glow. A two-year-old boy explored the gigantic sandbox with his father perched at the edge. Three friends chased each other by the jungle gym, their laughter lingering in the warm spring air.

Ishiko Kirishima was not interested in the sandbox nor the jungle gym. Instead, she cared for the lovely swing-set that sat at the far corner of the playground. Kirishima parked the stroller by the fence and carried his eight-month-old daughter toward the swings. There were only two seats, both colored red and sturdy as a metal plank.

“You’ll take a seat on daddy’s lap, princess,” Kirishima cooed, securing his massive arm around Ishiko’s tiny frame. Her chubby fingers curled eagerly against Kirishima’s hand. In her left grasp was the baby’s favorite silicone teether—a shark toy from Red Riot’s baby collection; unsurprisingly, it was covered in drool. She shoved it back in her mouth to continue her mindless chewing.

“Don’t swing too fast, okay?”

“I won’t, hun, she’s in good hands!”

Kirishima flashed you his signature smile and bounced his knee to get his baby girl excited. You stood on the side with your phone, ready to take endless pictures. Kicking his foot back, Kirishima gently rocked the swing to start the fun. Soon he swung to the rhythm of his heartbeat in hopes of not overwhelming his daughter.

“Oh my gosh, she’s loving it!” You squealed, snapping pictures of Ishiko’s adorable smile. A gurgled laugh rang into the air, and Kirishima’s heart swelled when he heard it. The sound was merely innocent, just like her soul. Kirishima held his daughter closer as he added an extra kick to the swing’s pace.

“Of course she loves it!” Kirishima beamed down at Ishiko. “My little princess is the most manliest baby in this park. She’s not afraid of a little swing!”

Kirishima refused to stop the joyride. If the swings made Ishiko happy, then he’ll gladly swing for all eternity. His numb butt would just have to deal with it.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Ishiko!”

Kirishima’s red eyes searched through the massive jungle gym for his little girl. Her giggles echoed from a tunnel, and she scurried across the wobbly wooden bridge. Kirishima’s hand playfully tried to nab her through the free space between the columns. A lopsided grin stretched on his face as Ishiko jumped away from his claws. Eventually, the five-year-old stopped squirming and grabbed the thin pillars to hold herself still.

“Daddy, you are silly!”

“I can be even more silly!” He lurched forward to tickle the girl’s stomach. She giggled loud enough for everyone in the block to hear. Kirishima shifted the book-bag that was sliding down his shoulder. “C’mon, princess, we have to go. Mommy is almost coming home, and we want to surprise her, right?”

“No!”

“Princess…”

“I wanna keep playing!”

Kirishima bit his lip, glancing around the nearly empty playground for an answer. A lightbulb went off in his head when he spotted something. He smiled, “Ishiko, do you want me to push you on the swings?”

That got her attention as she flew down the maze-like jungle gym like no tomorrow. She made a break toward the swing-set, her worn-out sneakers pounding the pavement. Kirishima ran after Ishiko while shaking his head. She wasted no time climbing on the seat, her tiny legs swaying back and forth to a song she heard at school.

Ishiko chirped, “Push me, daddy!”

“Okay, but hold on tight,” he said, pulling the swing back. Kirishima let go and watched as Ishiko went forward. His hand pushed lightly on the girl’s back. At first, it was not so bad keeping up with the pace. Except, Ishiko demanded to go faster. Kirishima pursed his lips, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, daddy! I wanna be a bird!”

“Fine, but only for a few minutes. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yay!”

Kirishima pushed a little harder. His nerves disappeared when he heard Ishiko’s delightful squeals coming and going with each swing that passed him. A soft grin appeared on his face as he saw how carefree Ishiko looked. Something about her laugh and smile made him feel so content, as if he was floating in the clouds above. It helped him forget about the never-ending stress and chaos that came with his hero work. None of that existed whenever he was with his daughter.

Lost in his thoughts, Kirishima blinked when Ishiko shouted, “I can reach the sky, daddy!”

His daughter’s left hand let go of the chain to grab the clouds. She lost her balance mid-air and fell forward. Kirishima shifted into hero mode, rushing to save his little girl, but was too late; she hit the ground face first. Panic rushed through his veins as he scrambled down to his knees, bracing himself for the worst.

However, his shaky hands stilled when he saw a crystallized arm. Kirishima carefully turned Ishiko’s body around and sighed in relief when confused eyes stared back at him. She glanced down, her mouth in awe at the light bouncing off her arms. Kirishima traced his finger along the visible lines across her diamond face; he was speechless at the new revelation.

“Daddy…what’s going on?” Ishiko was afraid, and Kirishima immediately comforted her with a bear hug.

“Oh, Ishiko, are you okay?!” The likelihood of finding any scratches or injuries was close to none, but his parental anxiety was off the charts. Out of instinct, Kirishima tried brushing her hair, except it was solid as well. Bringing her to his chest, he exhaled, “Oh honey, you scared me, but I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

“Why do I feel hard?”

“It’s your quirk, princess!”

“My…quirk?” Ishiko pulled away to examine her hands. Her fingers sparkled under the sun’s rays, and she giggled. Looking up, she beamed, “I got my quirk! I feel hard like you, daddy! Look, look!”

Kirishima nearly burst out into tears of joy.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Don’t worry, hun, I’ll take care of dinner,” Kirishima soothed your nerves. You called him saying you’ll be stuck at work for another hour. A massive business deal had gone sour due to some miscommunication. Your team was trying to salvage it, and you stepped away from the madness to apologize to your husband about coming home late.

Kirishima hugged the grocery bag in his grasp. The walking-man appeared, and he crossed the street with a grin. “Besides, I’m gonna cook a delicious meal for my favorite two darlings! If anything, I call this a win.”

The call was cut short when you had an urgent meeting to attend. Kirishima said a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up. He took a cheerful step. Kirishima always admired your unwavering dedication and confidence. No challenge was too daunting for you, closing business deals with ease despite some hiccups. Kirishima was lucky to be your husband and have you as Ishiko’s mother. You were an incredible role-model to her. As a result, your daughter was growing up to be much like you—resilient, driven, and independent.

The last one was very much true.

Kirishima understood this was bound to happen. Ishiko was growing up, turning thirteen two weeks ago. But he silently wished she didn’t grow up too fast. The pro hero missed taking Ishiko to the neighborhood park, watching his little diamond—a new nickname after her quirk manifested eight years ago—playing in the sandbox or jungle gym.

He especially missed pushing her on the swing.

Turning around the corner, Kirishima passed by the park that swam in his thoughts. He casually glanced to his left and stopped when he saw Ishiko. She was sitting on the swing, sliding her shoes on the ground. Three friends from school were with her chatting up a storm. One of them felt Kirishima’s gaze and let Ishiko know.

The teenager jogged toward her father. She greeted, “Hey, dad. I see mom called you.”

“Yup, I’m on dinner duty tonight!” He went into a heroic pose, puffing out his chest. Ishiko groaned in embarrassment. Kirishima laughed, “Oh c’mon, you love it when I do the poses!”

“Yeah, when I was like seven,” Ishiko snorted, rolling her eyes. Kirishima feigned being hurt, and his daughter shook her head. “I’ll be home in ten minutes to help you out with dinner.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that—”

“But I want to help.”

“Well,” Kirishima scratched the back of his head, “I can’t argue with that.”

Ishiko beamed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She ran back to her friends, and took her seat at the swing. Suddenly, the sun broke through the clouds. Kirishima was mesmerized at the soft glow shining down at Ishiko; she was radiant, and her glorious smile made the flowers bloom.

Out of nowhere, Kirishima was staring at Ishiko except she was five again. A wave of nostalgia hit him like a bullet train. She was soaring high on the swing, her contagious laughter melting his heart in seconds. The bright sun blinded his eyes, and he blinked—the little girl was gone. He was back in the present with Ishiko swinging lightly in the distance.

Kirishima held back his tears.

His precious diamond was growing up.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

There were a lot of “firsts” when it came to raising children.

First baby steps, first baby tooth falls off, the first day of school, first crush—the list went on and on. Except none of them hurt Kirishima so much like Ishiko’s first heartbreak.

She returned home from U.A. for the weekend with disheartening eyes that shrunk the pro hero’s giddy smile. Ishiko didn’t utter a word as she stormed into her old room, slamming the door behind her. It shook the entire house and left Kirishima confused. Narrowing his eyes, he stood up from the couch to figure out what was wrong, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“Give her some space, Eiji.”

“But she’s upset!”

“Which is why she needs to be alone,” you said, giving him a quick squeeze. Kirishima sent a longing gaze at the doorway. Sighing, he begrudgingly plopped down on the sofa. You snuggled closer to your brooding husband, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I know it’s hard, but she’ll let us know what’s bothering her when she’s ready. Although, I think I already have an idea…”

“Which is?”

“First heartbreak.” Kirishima went stiff at the answer. You rested your head on his shoulder and mumbled, “Those eyes don’t lie.”

Ishiko didn’t leave her room for a while. Kirishima decided to buy some ingredients to make Ishiko’s favorite meal for dinner. He hoped it would cheer her up, even for just a little bit. When he returned home, you mentioned that Ishiko stepped out for some fresh air at the local playground. Kirishima dropped the grocery bags and flew out the door without looking back.

The glowing sun slowly sank behind the houses sitting in the distance. A vibrant golden and amber color illuminated across the cloudless sky, blessing the neighborhood with a peaceful scenery. Kirishima nearly snorted at the ironic mood.

He skidded to a halt when he arrived at the entrance. An old couple was strolling around, but Kirishima searched for his daughter. The hero found her sitting on the swing with drooped shoulders and a bowed head. Both of Kirishima’s fists clenched at the young girl’s presence. However, he swallowed his anger as it wasn’t the right time.

His baby was hurt and needed comfort.

So, Kirishima treaded carefully to the swings. Ishiko’s head twitched when she heard soft footsteps, and peeked at the familiar shoes standing by the small entrance. Kirishima approached the quivering girl, resting his large hand on her shoulder. Ishiko finally looked up at her father with puffy red eyes—she was crying again.

“C’mon here, princess,” Kirishima whispered, his arms opening up for support. Ishiko’s face crashed into his chest as her arms wrapped around him. She wept loudly, the tears staining his shirt although Kirishima didn’t care. He simply hugged her tighter and rubbed circles on her back, murmuring, “It’s okay, daddy’s got you.”

He never let go.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

A small ball of light gleamed in the sky. It grew more prominent in size, the sun’s rays glowing behind the houses and trees on the quiet streets. Everyone was sound asleep except for Kirishima—he was enjoying his daily morning run. Staying in tip-top shape was necessary for the pro hero, especially for a middle-aged man like himself. But he was still energetic as ever, which put a few young heroes to shame.

Kirishima came to a slow stop after reaching his goal for today. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a satisfied grin. The street was bathed under the sun’s soft glow, and Kirishima strolled back home. He couldn’t wait to take a nice warm shower before heading to work today.

As usual, Kirishima walked by the neighborhood park. However, he paused when his eyes noticed someone by the swings. Blinking twice, he realized it was Ishiko. A puzzled look crossed his face, and he walked toward her.

“Hey, honey, whatcha doing up so early?”

“Just watching the sunrise, that’s all,” she answered softly, almost afraid to wake up anyone. Her left hand gripped the chain while the other rested on her lap. Kirishima arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The hero took a seat on the empty swing beside his daughter. He then followed her gaze at the rising sun.

A peaceful silence settled between the father-daughter duo. Some birds were finally awake, their wings flapping to find breakfast for the day. A small chirp caught Ishiko’s attention. There was a nest sitting high on the tree’s thick branch, and a baby bird was by the edge. It seemed old enough to fly on its own, but appeared hesitant to leave the nest.

“Dad…” Kirishima stared at his daughter, hearing her voice crack a little. Ishiko met his gaze and sighed, “Do you ever feel…nervous? Like, so much to the point that you can’t sleep?”

“Many times,” he hummed truthfully, and fondly remembered when you were pregnant with Ishiko. He was a mess as the due date inched closer, and jittered like a frantic cat when your water broke at three in the morning. The corner of his mouth curled in amusement at the memory. He gently asked, “What’s on your mind, princess?”

“The hero exchange program.” Ishiko’s feet drag themselves on the ground, her head slightly low. “I know this is an amazing opportunity. I get to work alongside an incredible American pro hero and their team and maybe learn some new skills. But I feel…scared.”

Kirishima stayed quiet. Ishiko’s hand curled tighter on her lap as she quivered, “I’ll be living on the other side of the world for a year. Everyone I know will stay here—including you and mom. I have never been so far away from you guys in my life. I guess it’s finally sinking in now that I’m leaving this Friday.”

“It’s always hard facing the unknown,” Kirishima started, his posture straightens up. “You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you can always count on yourself to get through it. I know you can. You’ve always been strong and courageous, Ishiko.”

He pulled out his cellphone to show her a particular photo. It was the one you took many years ago when Ishiko was only eight months old. She was sitting on Kirishima’s lap, and on the very same swing she swayed right now.

Kirishima chuckled, “No matter how fast I rocked, you never cried.”

“That’s ‘cause you were holding me.”

“True,” he shrugged as the sun peeked through the trees. “But then you started sitting on your own. I’d push you as high and fast as I could. Eventually, you began to swing on your own. No matter what, you’d let out the most precious laughs every time you reached the sky. You were so confident with yourself that I smiled from the sides.”

Tears glistened in Kirishima’s eyes once the floodgates opened. All of his memories with Ishiko came crashing with a force that not even his unbreakable form could resist. Ishiko mirrored her father’s emotional reaction, little sniffles echoing into the early morning hours. Kirishima soon reached out to squeeze her hand—a tender, but powerful gesture.

“Your mother and I are so proud of who you’ve become,” Kirishima choked out a smile, caressing his thumb on her skin. “We raised you to be a formidable young woman who carries her strength with grace. I know you’ll stand confidently wherever you go. But I’ll always be in your heart if you ever need a little push.”

Ishiko wiped away her tears, standing up to hug her father. Kirishima met her halfway and pulled his daughter into a warm embrace. He raised her, protected her, and held her for eighteen years. She was a constant presence in his life, a ray of light shining brighter than any star in the universe. Despite the pain in his heart, Kirishima realized it was time to let go of his precious diamond to the whole world.

Yet, no matter how old Ishiko becomes, she will forever remain Kirishima’s little girl in his eyes.

“Hey, dad?” A deep hum rumbled through his chest. She pulled away and flashed him a faint smile. The following question made his heart stop when he heard: “Can you push me on the swing?”

After his shock, he grinned, “Of course.”

Ishiko eagerly hopped on the swing as if she were five years old again. The sun basked the entire park under its golden blanket, waking up the flowers from their deep slumber. Kirishima pulled his daughter back before giving a soft push to start the swing. The little bird in the nest chirped and flapped its wings. Soon it took the ultimate step to leave the nest, soaring proudly in the air filled with Ishiko’s innocent laughter.

Kirishima continued pushing his daughter on the swing. He once promised to gladly swing with her as a little baby. Now he’ll keep that promise by pushing her forever if it made her happy.

His sore arm would just have to deal with it.

Seventh prompt crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous Prompt: Pro Hero AU

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima ejirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha imagines #bnhabookclub #dad!kirishima #hero camp bingo #domestic #domestic!kirishima #swings #fluff #domestic fluff

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deans-haunted-baby · 3 years

Text

The Last Rites

*So, many fans including myself were unhappy with Adam Milligan and Michael’s exits out of Supernatural. This is my fix-it or at least my interpretation of what happened after 15x19 and 15x20. Enjoy!*

Summery: Chuck now human is a bitter bin collector and part-time serial killer stalking his latest victim. Little does he know that the dynamic human vessel/archangel duo Michael and Adam have been stalking him.

"Damn that Sam and Dean and that little brat for making me human! But I'll get the last laugh," he says as he makes his rounds and choosing his latest victim. Plotting all the terrible things he plans on doing to the Winchesters. “I’ll get them all for this!”

As Chuck follows this person out to their car in the middle of the night, knife in hand. All off a sudden he hears wings flapping and turns around in horror. His eyes bug out when he sees a figure standing before him in the shadows.

"W-who's there?"

Michael/Adam step out of the darkness wearing a "surprise-bitch" look on their face: "Hello...father" by the darkness of his ton Chuck knows his son hadn't forgotten the last time they saw each other. By that lakeside where he'd killed him for helping the Winchesters.

"No i-its impossible... You're dead I killed you. You should be in the Empty."

Michael hesitantly shakes his head. "Not anymore."

"How?"

"Let's just say I made bail thanks to my nephew and Castiel as they needed my assistance in Heaven's rehabilitation. And I humbly obliged."

"Castiel? He's alive too?! And you're working for them?! Why? That little brat took my power!" Chuck screams in anguish. "NO you both should be suffering in the Empty for all eternity!"

Michael/Adam looks at his hands flexing them into fists. Recalling the last second he drew breath being smited by his father. Regretting his decision to ever forsake his duty for humanity for his father. And his anger burns like acid.

"After what you did to me the last time we spoke...all I've cherished was this moment," the archangel Prince darkly replies. Adam's soul quietly astral-projected is in the background roots on his buddy. "Jack and Castiel offered me a chance to atone myself for wrongly choosing you over that which I’ve swore an oath to protect. That I could leave the Empty and reclaim my throne in Heaven if I stayed on Earth and helped the Winchesters clean up your mess."

Chuck glares "So you're their bitchboy now? Ha, pathetic." He chortled in his throat. "I always knew you were weak, Michael. Being in that cage all those years with Sam and Dean's forgotten little bro has made you soft."

Michael's cheeks throb angrily. But he maintains his restraint. "Oh I'm not doing this for them," he reveals; stepping a little closer to his father. Shoulders squared. "Being stuck on Earth is also my punishment. But I've accepted it...I deserve my fate...just as you deserve yours right now."

Chuck then scrutinizes his son suspiciously. Looking from the archangel's fists to the face of his vessel Adam.

"What so you're like an archangel superhero now?" He can't contain a laugh. "Wow those Winchesters must be really desperate to resort to sending you here instead of facing me themselves."

Michael shook his head. "As I've already stated...I'm not here for them, he says. "The one called Dean, my original sword, has already fallen in battle and has inherited his place in my nephew's paradise. And his brother Sam sought out his other brother Adam, my chosen vessel. They've been working together ever since."

"And that's when Jack sent you."

“Yes."

"Dammit!,” Chuck swears this wasn't suppose to happen. If he killed a Winchester in his story the other brother left alive was suppose to take his own life in grief. No this couldn't be happening. They changed his ending AGAIN. "THIS WASN'T THE ENDING I PLANNED! I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!"

Michael cocks his head sideways; basking in his father's frustration. It was music to his ears. Then he's serious; raising his hand and forwarding his palm in a power-up.

"Your reign if tyranny is over father. You will not be scribing another's fate ever again. Not while I'm around."

At that Chuck's face is ghostly white. "Wait, what are you doing?" He puts up his hands submissively. "I'm human now, you can't just smite me. I'm part of the humanity that I created for you to protect!"

"Oh you don't have any rights here," growls the archangel sternly. "You gave up those privileges when you chose to use your newfound humanity to blindly murder others. Your arrogance and hatred for mankind was your own undoing. And now your death shall be your punishment, father."

Chuck trembling now resorts to begging for his son's mercy. "Michael, wait son we can talk about this." He showcases a nervous smile. "We can still make this right."

"No we can't." Michael scoffs. "The centuries of my allegiance to you have also perished. And I've wanted nothing more than to watch you beg forgiveness as you draw your last breath."

"Wait please show your father mercy, my son! Please!"

"Like the mercy you demonstrated to me that day by the lake shore?"

Chuck nodded still keeping his hands up. Okay so Michael was still pissed about that. "Fine you're right that was a mistake. I should've never hurt you like that. I was wrong and I see that now."

Michael's expression is smug, giving a mild throat chuckle. Then his cold expression shifts into anguish. "I hate myself for ever believing in you and turning my back on humanity. I will never be able to forgive myself for making that choice. For allowing you, Lucifer and my devotion to you to manipulate me from doing what was right."

"This doesn't have to get ugly Michael, we can still talk this out." Chuck begs. “Come on, what do ya say?”

"No we're done talking father." Michael's eyes glow like silvery blue light.

Chuck back peddles "Wait j-just give me another chance. I can prove to you I'll change I will."

Michael chuckles darkly, "Like the chance you were about to give that civilian you were following just now? Or the others you’ve murdered since?"

He eyes the knife in his father's hand. Suddenly Chuck realizes this and impulsively drops it onto the pavement.

"No, this isn’t what it looks like. I-I wasn't going to hurt anyone else. I swear!"

"You'll never learn will you father," Michael shrugs apathetically. "It's a shame. You were given a gift by your own flesh and blood and you've squandered it."

"WAIT MICHAEL, PLEASE LET'S JUST TALK ABOUT THIS!"

No, no the archangel Prince was done talking. He'd said all he needed to say and with that throws Chuck's own last words to him right back in the short man's face.

"SAVE IT!" smiting him instantly on the spot. Blasting his father in a blinding light, erasing him from existence. When the dust settles Michael eases his tense shoulders releasing a sharp intake of breath.

Adam's projected soul then takes it upon himself to console his friend. Who is clearly bitter about destroying his own father even if he was an evil bastard.

"You did the right thing you know," the pre-med student/hunter in training reassures him. "Your dad would've killed that person if you hadn't intervened."

But Michael doesn't want to hear it. "I didn't do this for that person. I did it out of my own volition. I wanted my father to pay for what he'd done to me and my broken vow."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you saved someone tonight, Michael,” Adam insists. “And you proved that you can be better than Chuck ever was."

Michael frowns lowering his gaze to the ground melancholically.

"Or maybe I've just demonstrated that I am no better than him. I betrayed my sworn oath," the archangel squeezes his fist tightly. Putting all his anger into that hand. "And for that transgression alone I shall never be redeemed."

Adam recognizing the sadness in Michael's expression, throws his celestial pal a genuine smile, kneading his shoulder. "There's always redemption for all of us," he says gently. "I believe my brothers were capable of that, even if they never cared about me. Knowing you and even getting to know Sam has taught me so much more about myself, my family and what I'm meant to do with my life."

"What like being a hero?"

"Yah and it's kinda cool I get to kick some ass with an archangel."

"So, you want to honor your family. Despite what fate they'd left you to."

Adam shook his head. "Sam and Dean were far from perfect. I don't think I'll ever fully forgive them for what happened," he reveals. "BUT I think it changed me for the better. I got to become friends with Heavens MVP and I care about their cause now. They wanted to protect the world from evil and that's what I want to do. It's not about honoring the Winchester's legacy I want to do some good in this world. And you know what...I think you do too."

The archangel smiled to himself. "Well I did get some amusement out of watching my father squirm," He says lightly then adds. "Alright kid, you win. We shall continue our eternal quest for justice."

"Good, but we can continue that quest another night," the pre-med checks his wristwatch. "I gotta get some rest I have classes in the morning."

Michael scrutinized Adam. "You do know that you no longer require rest now that I've possessed this vessel or has that notion escaped you?"

“Oh yah I forgot," Adam laughs. "I guess I won't be needing sleep anytime soon then. Let's go home anyway I want to check out the bunker some more. Find any hidden passages or something."

"As you wish. I imagine your canine companion is also getting famished without us around to feed it."

A light bulb went off in his head. Right Sam and Dean's dog Miracle was in his care now. He loved that scruffy mutt even if he did drool a lot. Time to get home.

"Miracle, okay we gotta get home stat!"

And with that Michael flew back to the bunker.

#adam milligan #supernatural #midam #michael the archangel #Archangel Michael #chuck shurley #SPN #adam x michael #michael x adam #spn one shot #spn fix-it #spn fanfic #chuck god #spn spoilers #supernatural season 15

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

Dawn

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I know I have a lot of WiPs. They worry me. My office changed and now I have to travel forty minutes to and from the place and boy do I get tired after that! This is one of the reasons I’ve not been able to put up much. And I know this will lead to a lot of readers fading away (I have seen this happening already) which is okay. A little heartbreak but I’ll live. But I just hope everyone stays safe and takes care of themselves.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"I think insulting your father in front of thousands of his Hydra henchmen is still on top."

The most anxious day of your life and Anthony Edward Stark still makes you feel at ease.

The reflection in the mirror in front of you is of a timid woman with not an ounce of beauty to her name but for the title that comes with her unworthy blood. At least that is what you think.

Tony can read it in those eyes that are still carrying the lost sleep from many nights gone.

"The Asgardians have no idea how lucky they are to have you. And your father was an idiot for giving you away."

He takes the golden chains from your hands that you're unable to lock at the back to do it for you. "But then again, if it weren't for you, we would have never won the war."

You mock a laugh. "Oh, come on, Mr Stark. I'm a freaking ball that was played by earth and Asgard's most unhinged boomers."

The clasp on the chain shuts and Tony's brows go up. "I could not have said it better. Odin does seem like he should chill out more."

"Right?"

You both chuckle and Tony presses away creases on your shoulder before catching your gaze in the mirror.

"You do know you don't have to go through this, Y/N. You just have to say the word and every one of us out there will fight those golden bastards for you."

Your lips stretch in an involuntary smile that fills your heart to the brim and you feel your eyes get wet for the man who has been more of a father to you than your own blood and bones. "You know that is exactly the reason I said yes to the wedding, right? I don't want any more bloodshed. Let's just take it as me repenting for my father's sins and call it a day. Although I'm glad this peace offering didn't come with shady terms like the Asgardians ruling earth or something."

Tony blinks and looks into some unknown void. "Hm." Some afterthought later he looks down at you adjusting a flower in his jacket's pocket, patting and jumping a little in excitement at how great he looked. "Maybe Odin wants to give one of his disappointments some responsibilities or something. To keep him busy, you know."

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, giving yourself one final look in the mirror before picking up the bouquet of Asgardian orchids- the golden flowers in full bloom.

"But honestly though, if he does something you don't like, you have to tell me. Or anyone of us. Nat! Yes, she will take care of him for you on the down-low. It'll be so quiet even he won't know what hit him."

You twirl around towards Tony, making him question the whole event once more. He could not let this happen to you. No. You deserved better. So much better than some egotistical maniac of a God who once wanted to rule your planet.

"Ready to walk me down the aisle?" You ask him with stars in your eyes.

"No?" He replies with clouds of doubt lingering over him.

"Tony."

"Okay, fine. But I am going to sulk about this throughout the wedding."

The great halls of the palace have been decorated with flora of all hues. Civilians have gathered outside to witness the wedding of their Prince. The old ones are curious about who would marry the adopted child. The young ones make merry, rejoicing their Prince has finally found love and the kingdom can once again celebrate after what seems like aeons. The guards have been doubled and the groom's brother is all over the place, running around to make sure everything is in order. It is only when Sif rolls her eyes and audibly groans before dragging Thor by his arms outside his brother's chambers does he stop. Be with your brother, he is ordered before she takes off to cover for him, leaving him to discover what he's been dreading all this week- what is Loki going to feel about this.

It surprises him when it does not take much to open the door and find his brother dressed in his most exquisite armour for the occasion. The gold glitters under the sun rays falling through the windows and balcony and the cape flutters luxuriously reminding every witness that none could carry one as Loki did.

Thor wonders how much of his mother's poise he sees in Loki while he stands overlooking Asgard. His eyes are taking in each and every living pixel while his hands are trying to scratch the nervousness off each other.

Mother would have loved to watch him start this new chapter today, Thor wonders gleefully on the inside.

Maybe it's the reluctant thought of their mother that travels unspoken across the room and makes the other brother turn around.

"Let's get this over with," Loki announces, walking towards the door.

Well, clearly not what I was hoping for, Thor muses, following his brother out.

"How are you feeling brother?" He has to ask.

"Like I might puke my insides any moment."

Vivid.

"Is there anything I can bring you that might ease your stomach?" I mean a brother can try, right?

"Oh yes, of course! Bring a very rare herb called common sense and feed it to your father. He seems to be suffering from this particular deficiency."

"Okay, Loki, that's a bit-"

"Say it's a bit on the nose and I will punch you in the face right now, Thor. I'm being married against my will to an earthling against her will. Father might be a professional matchmaker in his days but I am not one of his pawns to be used in some peace treaty like this."

Thor sighs because that is all he can do right now. No matter how much tries to defend the Allfather, the fact remains that two people are being brought together without much room for their thoughts and opinions. “Weren’t you the one to bring forth the idea of peace with the one planet that father has not tried to conquer and the one that still considers us friends? It is all for the better. And Y/N is an amazing woman. I am sure she would make a wonderful partner-”

“The peace holds because you are known to their heroes, Thor. And if peace is the subject let’s just marry you with Y/N, why don’t we?”

Thor mocks a muted laugh but Loki does not stir, staring at his blond brother with a piercing gaze that finally makes the former shift his weight uncomfortably between his legs. “That’s what I thought. Keep trying to defend the Allfather unless he stands against what you desire. You do realise this was the very reason I tried to stop you from becoming king in the first place at that time.”

Before he can get a word in- or at least try to think of one- Loki has already moved past the great doors to be welcomed by a crowd of royals gathered in the hall at one side and Y/N’s family on the other.

He knows. He knows deep within his heart that the royals are here just to witness what drama goes down this time, what does the bastard of Odin do this time to wreck chaos midst these celebrations. The other side? They are here to make sure they have his bones if Y/N says the word. So, it’s just another day in my life. But he has to admit to himself how he envies you for having a cavalry of the galaxy’s most lethal beings protecting you without so much as a word. What is this camaraderie exactly? A strategic alliance? A well-put band of the unfit?

It’s love, my dear.

It is not hard to miss Friga’s words fluttering inside once he climbs the stairs to stand by Odin’s side. Love, Loki mocks a laugh, it does make you do mad things. He is not paying attention to the grand speech Odin is giving, and for once he can relate to a yawning Clint in the front. All he wants is for this charade to end once and for all. So much that he might actually be happy if Y/N says no at the very last minute. Would save both of us some very awkward lifetimes ahead.

The great doors open again. Everyone rises from their seats to welcome the bride. Loki isn’t even interested in looking that way till the sun is reflected in his eyes from the veil that covers your face. And that is the first time he looks at you.

There is the strangest flutter inside his gut to witness his colours on someone else; on you. The armour in a matching shade of gold adorns your shoulders and arms. Gold chains have the honour of covering your chest and back, curving down from behind to the plates on your waist. Green of the gown dazzles like the galaxy moving around your existence, snug all around your curves. A Goddess walks on the land of Asgard. And every single soul is in awe.

Loki blinks under the light of the suns. The air seems to leave his lungs and time slows down. Everything fades away; except for the woman that walks towards him in arms with earth’s protector. His mind is questioning whether she is a mere human while his heart is trying to figure out the pressing sensation it is feeling.

“Lady Y/N, daughter of...under the care of the house of Stark,” Odin announces to the crowd, breaking Loki out the trance whilst he watches you climb the steps with Stark, come to stand by his side and give the man a kiss before he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving your face, waiting for a single line of doubt to take you away from all of this.

Well, one of the father figures understands.

“Time for the union,” Odin declares to the two of you.

You turn towards Loki, your heart beating in your ears as you watch your future husband for what seems like the rest of eternity through the veil. Even though you have been trying to convince everyone that it’s the right thing to do, your panicking heart seems to be having doubts of its own.

Breathe! Breathe, breathe, breathe, Y/N. Just breathe, please.

“Unveil her, Loki,” Odin softly orders the God.

You feel the heat run to your ears and neck. What fuckery-

“She will unveil herself, if she wants to, Allfather. Do not belittle her with your old traditions,” Loki points out, much to Odin’s dismay.

Damn right, Tony thinks to himself as he pauses and looks inside in disbelief for liking Loki there for a moment.

Loki does not miss your hands going to your solar plexus to wipe off the sweat before moving the veil back. The suns finally get to touch your face, that glows even when everything inside you cripples in anxiety. Y/E/C eyes meet the ocean of green looking at you with deep curiosity before you look away.

“Bring forward your hands unto each other so you may be tied by the fabric used by the first Gods to be wed under the suns and moons,” Sif requests as she holds a red fabric in her hand while her eyes travel to Thor standing at the end of the stairs.

Loki is first to bring forward his hands, patiently waiting for yours.

The hesitance is not for the ceremony as much as for the fear of him finding your drumming pulse under his touch. Oh, well, I’m pretty sure he can hear it from here right now. And so you bring forward your hands to slide into his, feeling the heat from your palms being siphoned by his cold ones.

A chill runs throughout your body; like a feverish tingle when your stomach is on the verge of throwing its contents out. And Loki seems to sense it too. It’s really hard to ignore for him, as a matter of fact. So is the repeated rise of your chest to breathe as much as you can while undergoing a panic attack; a state he is all too familiar with.

“Róaðu taugarnar á henni, gyðja styrks og umhyggju,” he whispers only for you to listen and still it does not make sense till you can feel an ascended calm run from your hands to the rest of your body, bringing the chaos to a standstill.

How did he-

The removal of clouds of anxiety seems to suddenly clear your vision and you watch the God holding you in a new light. His eyes are soft towards you, his touch careful and light. His head bows a little and his body is still as a boulder. If only I had a backbone like him, you wonder when Sif wraps the red around your hands, binding them together neatly with a bow on top.

“Time for your vows,” she whispers to the both of you with a smile before taking a step back.

You look at her and watch the face of a friend before your eyes come back to rest on the red fabric. So much power resides in this little piece of cloth.

“Under the stars of Valhalla,” Loki begins, bringing your eyes up from the fabric to his face like an involuntary reflex, “I take thee, Y/N, as my wife, if you shall have me. I vow to protect you and be by your side in life...and death.”

...okay...that was...okay.

You clear your throat as discreetly as possible, taking in one long breath before looking back at right into Loki’s eyes. “U-under the stars of Valhalla, I take thee, Loki, as my husband, if you shall have me. I-I vow to protect you and be by your side in life. And...and death.”

No sooner are the words said than the fabric starts to glow with a blinding light, turning into butterflies made purely of light and flying to the skies, marking the bond witnessed by the heavens old and new.

"If you need anything, your handmaidens will be a call away."

There is comfort in Sid's gentle smile. If only you could ask her to stay. But that's not usually how the night goes.

"Take care of her, brother," Thor comments before a strong pat comes for Loki's back and the God rolls his eyes.

You know Thor means well but those words in no way bring comfort to you as the doors to Loki's room opens and are shut behind the two of you.

Silence marks the first few seconds of being alone in a room for the first time. Well, not first really. There was that time when the two of you had to fight your way out of the Hydra's facility.

"Nice colour theme," you finally say out loud standing by the door, awkwardly swinging on your toes while holding a fur coat given to you when you were shivering at dinner.

Loki takes his helmet off and your eyes follow the raven strands of hair flowing in the night breeze dancing in from the windows and open balcony. How does he have such lush growth? Maybe it’s the water of Asgard.

The helmet rests on the table with a soft thud. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he states, already undoing his armour.

“Oh, no,” you press, taking a step towards him, “please, you don’t have to get uncomfortable in your own room on my account. I’ll take the couch. It looks more comfortable than my bed anyway. So…yeah. Um...where can I change?”

Loki blinks and turns his gaze towards an archway by the end of the wall. “That’s...the bathroom. Everything has been arranged for you in there.”

You nod even though Loki has already gotten busy with undoing what remains of his armour while you start on undoing yours. The bracelets come off first, then the earrings. But the worst is the clasps of chains choking you from your neck down your back. I should have asked Tony how he did it, dammit. No matter how much your hands try they just don’t seem to find the stupid openings anywhere.

“Allow me,” comes the voice from behind you, startling your already tensed nerves. And as if that isn’t enough, the touch of his cold fingers on your neck seems to fire up whatever nerve endings still seem to be working. Every undoing is soft and careful, always ending with a click. You can feel your hairs rise in anticipation of this foreign touch, goosebumps all over your back that you are pretty sure Loki can notice. You have to stop breathing in order to keep the shiver in check. It's only when your neck feels light once the last of the gold is removed do you take a lungful, catching the odd piece of jewellery in your hand, thanking Loki and hastily making your way to the doorless bathroom with a wooden partition made of intricate carvings as the only thing blocking the view on either side.

When you come out Loki has already changed into a loose black shirt over black pyjamas for the night, ready to take the couch. "I said I'll take the c-"

The creak followed by a crash drowns your words and makes you smack your hand on your mouth. The sofa lies in ruins on the floors, the legs done away with while the arms rests have fallen flat. And the thought of Loki almost sitting down on it fills you with the guilt of having the thought of laughing out loud at the scene.

"Oh, God. You okay?" You have to ask, partly because you did see him rise up safely thanks to his wonderful reflexes but mainly because the pressing jaw tells you somebody might die tomorrow morning.

"I'll have one of the servants clean this up," is all he says.

Servants. Ruined couch. Wedding night. That cannot go right in any way imaginable. Not at least for your overthinking mind.

"No, that's okay. We can share the bed," you blurt out, not wanting any outside attention, "i-if that's okay with you."

And so, both of you lie down on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what odd decisions did you have to make to get you here. Even though the space over the bed is surprisingly a lot, the senses just cannot help but notice the other one's tiniest movements, every breath, every gulp and every sigh in the silent night.

"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say softly, still staring at the ceiling while your fingernails gnaw at each other. "That you were dragged into all of...this. I really thought the whole gist of a wedding between two kingdoms was over on my planet."

Silence resumes and as the seconds pass you feel a shot embarrassment rise in your throat for saying that. Clearly Loki is not interested in hearing any of this, you moron. He's a God married to a dumb mortal. This must be the worst day of his-

"Don't apologize for the mindless traditions of old men, dear. We are just pawns in their quest for power."

Weight of the words aside, there is something really soothing about Loki's voice mixing with the sweet cold of the night.

"All of this could have been avoided if Odin took his word back and let you live as you wished, no matter what your father promised."

You agree in a hum, bringing the duvet closer to your chest.

"But I presume you thought it better to avoid blood and take it as it was presented to you."

The words in that honey laden voice seem to travel over your exposed skin like a feather.

"Yeah. Yes. It would have been the better option but I could not stand to watch my friends and family suffer anymore. Tony deserves to rest and live a happy life with his family. Steve and Bucky are finally getting around to find their love for each other. Natasha has settled down with Maria and Clint can finally stay with his family. The battle had already taken a toll on them. I would have rather killed myself than make them put their life on the line again for the whole...planet I guess."

You do not notice but Loki has turned his head to look at you, to notice the quick blink of your eyes, the tug of your fingers on the edge of the duvet, the lick of your lips before biting on them hard.

"Well-" you clear your throat, scratching your forehead for some invisible itch- "I'm human. So, I'm supposed to make the dumbest decisions. But I cannot imagine how you must be feeling mixed in all of this. I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted for yourself in exchange for some reduced sentence. T-that's what Thor told me."

You turn to look at him and are caught off guard by the moons shining in on the pair of greens looking at you with utmost interest. And once you lock your gaze with them, it's hard to let go. Swimming in the springs in a forest under a full moon night while the world sleeps, that's what his gaze feels like. Why wouldn't it; they seem to be touching you in crevices untouched and unbared.

He continues to watch you and sigh. "To be honest I stopped putting any hope in Odin to think about me a long time ago. Nothing he does to me or for me surprises me anymore."

Your lips pucker down, letting the words sink in before you decide to turn in his direction.

"Well, I'll try to make this situation suck a little less as I can...though I highly doubt I'd be able to create much havoc here."

"Oh-" Loki feels his eyes close as a smirk lands on his face and he turns in your direction too- "trust me, darling. With me, there is no corner of this place that you cannot create havoc in."

You find yourself chuckling, letting a few seconds pass before you lick your lips and wonder whether to let out this tiny naughty piece of your mind into bed between the two of you.

The lick and the tug of your teeth at your mesmerising lips do not go unnoticed by the God; something that is soon brewing a question about why his insides are so restless at the sight of your lips having to feel the torture. Curse the unknown! "What?"

"Hm?"

"There is something you want to say but you're not allowing yourself to."

You take a deep breath and move your head just a little closer towards him in order to whisper. "It's not that I'm not mischievous... it's just that I'm often presumed to be the embodiment of a golden child and so I've never been caught. Ever."

The slight shift in Loki's expression that elevates from seriousness to confusion calls for clarification.

"I...once laced your brother's drink with laxatives because he pissed me off."

Confusion.

Surprise.

Shock.

"Y/N Y/L/N," Loki nearly gasps, feeling his head rise from the fluffy pillow, "you did what?"

And the night drowns with the light laughter and old stories for the mutual feeling of detest for siblings and contrast in the view of the world. Discussions went on through the timeless breeze blowing throughout the night about the worlds beyond and the things undiscovered; everything riding on a melody till one of you feel victim to the sweet sounds of slumber.

Loki's eyes are stuck on you all night, watching the serenity washing over your face as all worries seem to fall away while you let yourself drift in peace. Beautiful seems to be an understatement according to the God.

Even though she's an immortal, she does not deserve to be tied to me for eternity. That's a fate too cruel.

But something inside him does not want these words to be true; a gentle tug to his heartstrings by you, that seems to have struck a chord he cannot stop playing.

190 notes · View notes

boneswriteswords · 4 years

Text

Your Lover - Leonardo

A/N: This also started as a self-indulgent Mikey smut that morphed into a Leo smut. I cannot give myself nice things but maybe one of you will like this.

Pairing: Leonardo x reader

Words: ~2400

Unedited and unbeta’d. We die like men here.

You were not good at sleep. Staring at the ceiling for long hours every night, tossing and turning and thumping around in your bed, had been the standard procedure for as long as you could remember. Insomnia loved to creep its way into the edges of your periphery every time you relaxed just enough to maybe get some well deserved sleep and, with out fail, you watched the shadows in the darkness dance until the sun peaked along the horizon.

To say your sleep schedule was fucked was a huge understatement.

However, it somehow seemed to worsen when you started dating Leo. When you are laying in bed beside your turtle lover, you couldn't close your eyes for anything. Especially not when you can hear his elevated breathing, visibly still awake despite his closed eyes, the lovely curve of his beak pointed upwards against the faint light from the street lamps outside your bedroom window.

Leo's sleep schedule was just as fucked as yours, something he doesn't mind because he'd rather be tired than miss out on any extra time with you.

You've stopped feeling creepy about the way you stare at him. He likes it. You've caught him preening and posing for you enough times to know that he likes that you find him attractive enough to stare. He revels in it the same way he revels in the victory of a well-executed plan. Besides, every detail of his body seems to have been meticulously crafted to keep your attention. An eye-catching sculpture amid a slew of ordinary ones and holy shit you are beyond grateful that he cannot read your mind. Not only would you have to sit through another long-winded denial about how great of a man he is but he'd also tease you relentlessly about your cheesiness.

He'd love it as much as he'd hate it and you'd never risk letting him know just how cheesy you were for him.

It took you forever to get him to admit that your desire for him was valid to begin with. He argued that you had no business wanting him, that you could and should do better. It had sparked a different sort of fire in you - an indigent and furious flame that took his self loathing and humility and suffocated everyone in the room. You smoked him out and when it cleared, he took your hand and let you wipe the soot from his face.

Despite all of that though, it took even longer before you could get him to touch you. Months of spontaneous attacks had weakened his defenses just enough before you managed to break him, your pleas against the curve of his jaw as you guided his hands along your body left him unable to do anything but give in to your shared desires.

And now that he has touched you, you never want him to stop. You never not want his hands all over you and it makes the times when you are apart damn near excruciating. When put in perspective, its probably unhealthy to be so fixated on him, to have your entire world narrowed down to the gorgeous specimen of life that lies with you in your bed, but there has never been a single soul that has enraptured you quite like he does. There likely never will be again.

So you give yourself a pass for it and let the want burn in your chest.

"Leo," you whisper, an eternity later. Its not a question. You are impatient and needy and completely unashamed of the way you can already feel the wetness leak into your panties. You clench around nothing and the sting of emptiness sends another wave of lust through you.

You can feel more than see his breath hitch but he makes no acknowledgment of your existence. His cock twitches where it lays next to the thigh you have thrown over him.

You grin, 'Well, if that's how you want to play it love....lets play.'

"Leo," you whisper again, sitting up and leaning over him, adamant on getting a response, "I know you're awake." You splay a hand on his plastron, pressing open mouth kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck while your other hand slips down to slide your panties to the side so you can rub your wetness against him.

He can play dirty all he wants - you knew how to play filthy.

And you were going to, too turned for him to give a single fuck about it.

Leo doesn't move a muscle and you'd be annoyed if you hadn't caught the deep inhale he took. Smirk widening, you relish your victory and swing your body until you are settled in his lap, legs stretched wider than needed. You slid your fingers over your wetness before slipping them inside, whimpering at the sudden stretch. His cock is hard between his legs and you make sure to brush the fabric of your panties over it lightly as your prepare yourself.

His eyes crack open, "Y/N..." A sigh, strained around the edges and a quick glance down tells you that his hands are clenching the bed sheets to keep himself from reaching out. You add a third finger, a small gasping moan escaping you as you do so and you can hear the sheets rustle as he grips them tighter. You rub the heel of your palm against your clit and it causes you to clench around your fingers and you make sure he can feel the way your legs shake on either side of him, mimicking the way they shake when he's buried to the hilt inside of you.

"Fuck," he breathes but makes no movement to touch you. Okay, so maybe you haven't won completely but desperate times call for a new plan of action. He wants to pretend that he doesn't want to touch you? Fine. He doesn't have to.

But, you grin in the darkness, you'll make him regret it.

You pull your fingers from yourself and lean back down, nipping the at the other side of his neck, adjusting so your weigh is more on him. Leo's cock grows harder in the apex of your thighs as your rut slowly over it, the fleshy tip catching your clit through your panties on the down stroke. The languid motion is almost too much, torturous but so delicious at the same time. He must agree because his hold on the sheets tightens even more.

Sure he is about to break, you prop yourself back up and grip onto the headboard with your clean hand for support as you grind down a little slower. A low dirty moan escapes you, the languid pace burning through you so sweetly.

Like you expected, Leo breaks, his hands shooting up to grip your ass and dig his finger tips into your skin. A possessive move you would have never expected from him before you got together but the marks he left behind were some of your favorites. He keeps your hips still as he grinds his cock into you and it takes everything in you to not react.

Because here's the thing. As much you want him to throw you back and mount you, you are a woman of your word and your promise to make him regret ignoring you was no joke so you pause, gripping his hands and pulling them away from you.

"No."

The look on Leo's face is gold and instills a deeper confidence in you about what you are about to do. "No touching," you reaffirm, moving his hands so they were beside his head.

He cocks an eye ridge but doesn't say anything. His cock twitches from where its nestled between your legs and you take it as a cue to keep going. You remove yourself from his lap momentarily to remove your soaked panties, making sure to rub your wetness on him as you readjust yourself back on top of him. Leo stares at you, hungry and puzzled, and you shoot him a mischievous grin as you lift and lean back so your sitting on his thighs.

You wish you could take a photo - you want to remember how he looks for the rest of your life.

In a smooth move, you trail your hand over his plastron, nails catching in the ridges as your drag your hand towards his dripping cock. You avoid it completely, detouring to scratch his thigh before removing it completely. He bucks under you, a glob of precum leaking out of him and pool on his abdomen, but keeps his hands to himself.

A smirk forms on your mouth before you can stop it as you trail your hand down your own chest this time, trailing down until you reached your cunt and sliding in two fingers in to the third knuckle. Your eyes fall shut momentarily as you stretch yourself a bit more, a deep sigh escaping you as the building pressure between your legs eases. Leo's eyes are on you as you rub the little spot inside of you that always sends you soaring, thrusting your hips forward so he can get a better view.

Pulling your fingers out and adding a third before slipping them back inside, you can't hold back the moan that builds in your throat. "Its a shame," you say, words caught in your throat, "It should be your fingers working me open like this. Getting me all ready for your cock. Oh, Leo."

You're rambling but you don't care, little moans slipping out without your permission. "But that's what you get for being stubborn. And now I have to take care of it all by myself." You open your eyes to find Leo looking at you with an intensity had has you clenching over your fingers. You could feel your orgasm approaching and with no small amount of regret, you withdraw your fingers and wrap them around his cock, milking a guttural moan from the depths of his chest.

You adjust again, suddenly desperate to put an end to your teasing, rising on your haunches so you can guide his slicked cock to your entrance. Leo reaches up and grips your hips again to keep you still, disregarding your 'no touching' rule. You whine and wiggle to try and bear down on his cock but his grip is unwavering.

He may have ceded his control to you but under no circumstance would he allow you to hurt yourself.

"Y-Y/N," he gasps, hip bucking the tiniest bit, "My lover, please. Gentle, be gentle."

You shudder as he stills, the head of his cock slipping inside of you. Thighs shaking, you rub the place where you both meet and you moan loudly at how good he feels. He pulls your hips down slightly so the next inch of him slips into your heat and you could cry at how full you feel already.

"Oh," he whispers, eyes locking on yours, "You're my lover." There is something akin to awe in his voice as he says it. Like he knew it as an abstract concept and it finally clicked in his head that it was far more than that. It was a real thing.

"Yes," you breathed back, working your hips down a little more, "I am your lover."

No matter how many times you and Leo had sex, there was always a stretch and it always has taken your breath away but this time, the combination of the blurred dynamic and the idea that he somehow has finally understood what you are to each other has you panting in desire. Leo's girth burns, your fingers way too small to really prepare you for him, but the moan that rips from him as you take him to the hilt is more than worth it.

You move back up, removing his hands from your hips, and Leo's breath catches.

"Fuck, darling," his voice is desperate as you slam back down, "Go slow. Y/N. Gentle, love. Gentle."

You ignore him, bouncing on him as you please. The burn is still there but it is slowly being replaced with pleasure. Leo lets out a strangled noise, an absolutely filthy sound that has you stuttering in your down stroke. Your pelvis meets his and you wiggle, rubbing the head of his cock directly on your special spot.

Leo is still pleading, hands twisting in the sheets, and he looks tortured and ravenous and you have never felt more powerful in your life. You lift up again, empowered by the way he curses at the slide.

"Y/N, my lover. Please. Gentle." he rambles on and you can see its taking everything in him not to buck up into you, "You'll hurt yourself. Please. Be gentle."

You love him.

You comply with his requests this time, if only because it opens up another avenue to torture him. Leaning down, you prop up so a little of your weight is on him, your breasts pressed against his chest, and start sliding up as slowly as you can manage, clenching as you do. Little breathless sighs are breathed against his throat as you slide back down. The feel of Leo's cock stretching you from the new angle is indescribable. He's big and thick and all yours.

Leo's breath gets heavier and you move to look him in the eye. You press your mouth against his. "Is this gentle enough for you?" you ask against his lips, twisting a bit as you come back down on him, taking your sweet time to find what feels the best. "A shame really, that I have to do this. That you wouldn't fuck me yourself. "

You keep the pace for a good ten minutes, watching as each painfully slow thrust rips away at Leo's control, knowing that he wants to touch you, wants to buck you off, pin you down, and slam into you hard and fast the way you like. You keep going, knowing that neither of you can come like this but you want to see him squirm. You want to see him break.

And break he does.

Strong arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to a strong chest as Leo bucks his hips up and starts fucking into you like a man possessed. His pleas dropped into growls and you don't even pretend to move his hands from you. You accomplished your goal. He's been sufficiently punished. Anything more would be counterproductive. Flipping you over, Leo pins you down and grinds directly on your clit, whispering the dirtiest things you had ever heard in your ear, too lust-struck to bother with filters.

"This how you want it?" his voice is rough, his thrusts ruthless, "Huh lovey? You wanted me to pin you down like a little fuck doll? Acted like a needy little brat, teased me with your scent and your sex, because you wanted my cock inside of you. Hmm. Yeah, you can't go very long without a good fucking can you?" He pauses, taking a moment to bit down on the swell of your breast and you cry out, shuddering. He licks over his mark, hips stuttering as he changes angle, and groans against your ear. "It belongs to me. Your sweet little cunt is mine. My cock belongs in there. Made for me. Made to be taken and used by me because you are made for me. You're my lover. " The words were sweeter but the tone was the same and the paradox made you dizzy.

His hand sneaks down and you come harder than you ever have in your life as his fingers graze your clit. Leo is close behind, slamming into you as you pulse around him, chasing his own release. It feels like an outer-body experience, the last minutes of him fucking into your worn body, riding all your aftershocks. You can feel his cum coat your oversensitive walls and you whine at the sensation.

Minutes pass before he pulls his softening cock out of you, leaving you wet and open and sloppy with your combined release. You spread your legs, tilting your hips up as his cum drips out of you, and flick at your clit. You loved how sensitive you were afterwards, the little pulses of pain just as enjoyable as the glide of his cock inside of you. Leo seems to come back at that, looking you over for any signs of injury.

He leans back over you, hand cupping your cheek in a familiar gesture.

"I'm okay baby," you smile sleepily up at him, nuzzling his palm "You made me feel so good. Just what I wanted. I have such a good lover. I'm so happy he's mine."

A soft churr and a sweet kiss is his response, his face softening the way it always does when you get sweet with him. He pulls you close as he lies back down, shoving your face into his chest and shielding your entire upper body with both his arms, nuzzling the top of your sweaty head and churring. And that's where you stay, listening to Leo's heartbeat - the smell of sweat and soap and sex filling your nose. Sleep creeps up on you, the lethargy in your bones and Leo in your arms a lethal combination, and without a chance to protest, you finally sleep.

~~~~

End

~~~~

#tmnt #leonardo #tmnt imagine #leonardo imagine #tmnt 2 #My writing #lemon

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candlelight27 · 4 years

Text

You Owe Me An Explanation

Summary: Jaskier left one day without saying a word. Years later, he knocks on your door. What will happen between you and your once best friend?

Warnings: Angst, brief mentions of blood and injures, fluff in the end

Pairings: Jaskier x Female Reader

Square Filled: Best Friends since Childhood

Word Count: 2254

AO3: You Owe Me An Explanation

A/N: @thewitcherbingo First entry for the Bingo! I might have twisted the prompt a little bit. Hope everyone enjoys, feels good to be back writing fics.

Someone knocked the door.

It wasn’t that late, you hadn’t eaten your supper yet, but it was certainly too late for visits. For any visit that entailed a friendly meeting - that is. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen and tried to hear anything besides the sound of the rain.

Someone knocked the door again. This time, a male voice called your name out loud.

“Open the door!” There was a familiar ring to it; after all he did know your name. “It’s me! I need your help!”

You knew that voice too well, you were sure it was him. So, you run to the door without letting your weapon go. When you opened it, the sight to meet your eyes felt like a memory. It was Jaskier, just as handsome and troublesome as ever, a little older, but so were you, and he was aging as well as wine. Behind him, there was a man, bigger than him. He had white hair, but you couldn’t see him well enough due to the darkness and the heavy rain.

“I owe you an explanation, but I need you to sew him up as soon as possible.”

“Go to that room and lay him in bed.” You nodded towards the interior of the house as he was walking in with the unknown man leaning on his shoulder. “And you owe me more than one explanation.”

The bard did as instructed. You quickly gathered your bone needle, the thread and a mysterious potion made by herbs.

“Make him drink this. It’ll ease the pain.”

The man drank it without hesitation, lying back on your bed. You guessed he was a witcher, and not a common one. You had recently heard of Jaskier after all those years- and yes, you had heard the infamous song about Geralt of Rivia too.

“What was it?” You asked while preparing your tools.

“It was big and ugly.” Jaskier answered. Not quite useful.

“Werewolf.” Said the witcher dryly. Then he fell asleep.

You were working in silence, stitching his neck and part of his arm. It was an ugly cut, deep and irregular. You had to clean it first, and you thanked Melitele, for the blood was so stuck to his skin it must had been torture had he been awake. You lost count of the stitches and lost track of time, surely past midnight.

You nodded towards the bard to go out of the room and closed the door behind you to let Geralt rest.

Jaskier nailed his clear, blue eyes upon yours. Neither of you moved. Both of you were thinking how to start a to talk. Should you start with a light-hearted conversation or spill all the venom you had been keeping in your heart for years? You hadn’t seen each other in over a lustrum. Maybe more. He opened his mouth, about to pronounce a word, but he bit his lip instead. A rare sight it was, regarding words came easy to him, he used them as he wanted.

“We can sit by the fire.” You simply said.

Once you were on the chairs in front of the fireplace you looked at him. He didn’t look back. The first change you noticed was his shoulders. They were broader than before. Then his jaw, and his eyes, they were sharper. You wondered if he had seen the same things you did when you entered the real world- right after he left.

“So, you didn’t marry the alderman’s son.” Jaskier said, more an affirmation to himself than to you. His tone, you couldn’t decipher, but it was dark and deep.

“You could at least look at my face when you are talking to me.”

“I never liked when you got angry at me.” He sighed. “And I bet you are making that face right now.”

“We are not children anymore, Jaskier.” You tried to suppress the smirk that was creeping to your lips, remembering all those times you frowned at something Jaskier had done. “You are a man and I am a woman. We can talk, I’m not going to scold you. Or punch you. I wanted to the first few years I hadn’t a single piece of news about your existence…” You added the last part with a bitter tinge. “But the anger faded away.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me.” He looked at your eyes, his lit with hope. You couldn’t resist the smile this time. Even if it was a sad one. How could you ever deny him of anything? That he acknowledged his fault made you felt understood. There was a knot in your stomach indicating you it was time to ask the question you’ve waited way too long for.

“I want to know why you left so abruptly.”

He blinked. Silence. He gulped. Silence. Yet his pupils didn’t hide. He breathed deeply before answering.

“It was for the best.”

“Oh, was it?” He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself of his decision instead of you. “Are you sure it was not an affair gone wrong? I’ve heard lately you had a good number of them.”. It was what you always thought had happened. He had to run away. What other reason could there be for his sudden disappearance?

“You heard of them?” He exclaimed surprised.

“I tried to look for you. When your best friend since childhood vanishes from your life, it’s the least you can do. But I failed. And when I finally found something… Well, so much time had passed, I thought you wouldn’t’ even care if you saw me ever again.”

“So it was you.” Jaskier murmured absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Who?”

“On the way to Cintra.” The bard gestured towards you. He looked more like himself now, without the mask of remorse, focused on something else. “I thought it was you, but you turned your head and… It was your hair, it was the way you walked. But I honestly thought fate would never let me meet you again.”

“If that’s so, tell me why you are here then.”

“Geralt was hurt and by chance-”

“I live in the middle of the woods.” You interrupted him. “By chance. I hardly believe that. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Fine. I heard you were here.” You nodded. “Heard your name, some anecdotes, that you sometimes healed people, put two and two together. I was about to come here a couple of times, but I didn’t have the courage. Then all of this happened, and I knew your house was closer than the town...”

“So you were going to go away.” You said absently. You were disappointed, it was obvious. And it was too late to feign this was a light-hearted conversation. You wouldn’t conceal your feelings.

“Do you think it was fate what has brought me here?” He wondered out loud.

“If that’s the case, then fate has a twisted way of making things happen. Why now?”

“Why not now?” He sounded hurt.

“Why not before?”

“I… I want to apologize. I’m sorry I broke our promise...” You can recall the distant moment. He said he’d bring you wherever he’d go, if he ever left home. And he left. Without you. He continued, as he saw you weren’t going to ask further. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t want to accompany me.”

“What made you think that?”

“As I said, I though you married the alderman’s son. I thought you were in love with him. He was constantly giving you flowers and gifts.” You huffed.

“So, you left me because you thought I was going to marry that pig of a man and then proceeded to avoid any contact with me? How could you have been such a fool? Or maybe I was the fool, thinking that we were friends…”

“You were my best friend. Since we were born.” Jaskier firmly confirmed.

“Did I hurt you? There must be other reason.” Your voice was now soft. Trying to seek understanding. “I know you, Jaskier, and you would have said goodbye. I know you and you never shut up, you would have said goodbye and a lengthy monologue stating your motifs and objectives.”

“I was a fool, that’s all.”

“That’s all…” He nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

“I’ll leave as soon as Geralt can walk. I’m sorry for all the inconveniences.”

“You’ll leave again. I hope you at least say goodbye.”

Jaskier crossed his arms and watched the fire crackling. Your heart felt heavy. The muted hope of a closure of your story with the bard was melting away. You felt your soul sank in your chest, lower and lower. There was a lump in your throat. There was no explanation, then. It was worse than rejection. Sadness, anger, you knew those emotions, and knew that time clamed them. But what can you do when there’s nothing but emptiness?

“Are you crying?”

“It’s not your business.” You sobbed, ignoring his worry. “And here I thought the moment we met, it’d be like the old times. Laughs and games, ale and songs. You said you were a fool, but I am the fool who hasn’t got over it after an eternity.”

“You don’t understand.”

“That’s what hurts. Not understanding what’s happening. I thought you were kidnapped, dead, lost. Then I learn you were just fine.” Your tears were now on your cheeks. Your voice high-pitched. “Then I blamed myself, I must have provoked it. I made you leave. But I’m wrong again. You just left and didn’t look back. Is that how it happened?”

“No! For fuck’s sake!” He stood up and kneeled before you. His face was painted with an ongoing conflict. He didn’t want you to be sad. He wanted you to keep going on without him. But why? “I thought you’d forget me soon after that!”

“How was I to forget my… you?”

“Does it really matter so much to you?” He took your hands in his.

“Yes.”

“I was in love with you.” Jaskier squeezed your hands but broke the contact of your eyes. “I just was heartbroken because I thought you had something with the alderman’s son. I can’t even remember his name. But you danced with him and he said he was going to court you and… I just wanted to leave and find something worth to live for because I had lost my reason to wake up every day.” He lowered his head and hid it on your lap.

“I didn’t know… I danced with you too on that fair.”

“Well, we always did.” His voice was muffled. “But you had never danced with anyone else before.”

“I stayed three years waiting for you. Then I learned a few things from a Melitele sanctuary, came back to no news from you, and left again. After a few villages and towns, I chose to settle here…”

“Why did you wait so long?” He rose his head slowly. His eyes were red too.

“What do you think?”

“I was a fool.”

“Indeed. But so was I.”

“I hope you would forgive me.” The bard said as he shook his head.

“What are we going to do now, Jaskier? Are we going to part ways?”

“I… I don’t know. I could… visit sometime… if you want me to, of course.” He babbled. “Did you really love me? And you still do?”

“My feelings haven’t changed. I still love you.” His gaze showed his amazement. And his adoration. “Have you heard me?”

“Are you serious?”

You stood up and made him go up with you. You grabbed his face by the sides and pulled him closer.

“Yes.” It was a mere whisper.

“Aren’t you resentful?”

“Are you?”

“No, but I-”

“Listen, Jaskier, I lived my life with you and without you. And my heart has known no greater joy than when you smile, or talk, or just are next to me.”

“Are you a poetess now?” He smiled, that sweet gesture that made you lose your reason every time.

“Don’t mock me. At least I’m clear about my feelings and my intentions. Now it’s your turn.”

“I love you.” The words spilt like a waterfall; he was thrilled to finally be able to speak them. “I have no doubts. The moment you opened the door, I couldn’t tame the butterflies in my stomach. I don’t care what happens in the future. We will figure it out. But I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. And I will track you down if you disappear again. I learnt a trick or two.” Jaskier moved his face closer to yours, his lips gracing yours.

“What is a love confession without a kiss?” His arms surrounded your waist.

“Do you think you deserve a kiss?”

“No, but I’m greedy enough to ask just in case I get it.”

You closed the distance. His kiss was soft, sweet, like the warm breeze in summer. You pressed your body against him. It was an indescribable feeling. His smell, his heat, his flavour, they dulled the world around you, and there was only Jaskier. You kissed him again.

“When will Geralt wake up?” He asked and you giggled.

“Not until morning.”

“Then we have time to catch up.”

…

“Was it fate?”

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

“Us meeting again. Was it fate?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“You were always so romantic…”

“Shut up and kiss me again. And don’t you dare write a song about this.”

#jaskier x reader #thewitcherbingo #jaskier x you #the witcher fanfiction #reader insert #angst #angst with happy ending #angst and fluff #female reader #my fic

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lanaisnotwool · 4 years

Video

youtube

417 Creating Karmic Debt

http://moneyripples.com/2020/08/20/417-creating-karmic-debt/

What is the number one thing that pulled Chris Miles through his hard times in the last recession?

How can you get karma working FOR you?

Is Karma instant?

Trolls beware! This episode will be hard on you. Learn and understand the concept of Karmic debt by watching this 22-minute video.

Listen to our Podcast here:

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/moneyripples/2020/07/15/417--creating-karmic-debt

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello, my fellow Ripplers! This is Chris Miles. Your Cash Flow Expert and Anti-Financial Advisor. Welcome you out for a wonderful show. A show that is for you and it’s about you. Those of you that work so hard for your money and you’re ready for your money to start working harder for you. Now! So you work because you want to, not because you have to. You want to be able to have that freedom. That cash flow. That prosperity. Today! Not 30 or 40 gazillion years from now, but right now! So you have that life of comfort and ease and freedom. So you can be with those that you love. Doing what you love. Whenever you want. But guys, it’s so much more than just being able to have a lot of money, right? This is about how you can go about blessing lives because that’s a rippler, you can create a ripple effect through the lives of others, through your own prosperity. Through your abundance. Through your good example. Through your talents and gifts and everything you can bring the world and money is just a magnifier of your soul.

And that is exactly why I’m so proud to be one of those Ripplers with you guys today. Thank you for allowing me to teach through you, to be able to share the knowledge and the things that I’ve gained experiences from just a few things. I haven’t learned everything in the world, but I appreciate you guys allowing me to do that. You’re sharing it with other people and allowing this message to grow and expand and bless more lives. And that’s because of you guys. So thank you so much for doing that.

Here’s a reminder. Check out our website, MoneyRipples.com. There’s great blogs on there, including videos of these very podcast you’re listening to right now. So definitely go and check those out.

And so today I’ve had a topic that I’ve kind of reserved for when it felt to be the right time. And I feel like now that time, because I feel now is the time to prepare, to gear up to really truly understand those real eternal, really those laws and principles of prosperity, right? Those laws of abundance. And this is a big one. In fact, this was one that I relied on so much during the last recession. When I was broke. When I was over a million dollars in debt. That this was one of the main things that I felt pulled me through. This is the one thing that kept encouraging me. It’s one of the main things that actually I believe truly was able for me to make a lot more money because I understood this concept, right? And there’s lots of different ways that people would call this. I’m going to refer to this as Karmic Debt.

You know, when people talk about karma, you know, like what you put out comes back to you, right? This is about creating debt, like creating good karma to come back to you. By creating good karma, good karma comes back. So creating this karmic debt, because there is a lag effect between the good things that you do that you put out in the world and the results and the rewards you get back. This is why people say, why bad things happen to good people? Wait. The story ain’t over yet. You know, if you keep waiting, it happens. Some people might talk about this as the law of the harvest, right? You don’t talk about like things in the Bible. They talk about when you sow it. And when you sow seeds and you plant, do you have to nurture it and water it and let it grow. Right? Same kind of concept, right? If you want to give or if you want to receive, you’ve got to give. See I came to get it right. I have to keep giving first. Cause that is the first thing. But if you want to receive something, you’ve got to give first.

And so I really want to go into this because I truly believe, especially when people struggle, this is when the impurities, so to speak, bubble out of you, right? It’s like, as if things are forced out of you. Then even the worst parts of you, I mean, have you noticed, especially lately where you’re under stress, some of the less attractive parts of you come out, right? You know, for me, I mean, it was a hot day and they’re telling you to wear masks and I’m going to a grocery store. I’m a grump! You do not want to say hi to me. I mean, maybe it would help. But no, it’s like, I get really grumpy and angry and I have to work on that, you know, and that kind of stuff. And we all have those little trigger moments and those things that we have, right?

By the way, if you want to have good things come to you, you got to put out good things. I hope that none of you, if you call yourself a Rippler, one thing for sure is you cannot be the type of person that I hear about trolling online. If you’re one of those people that troll people may say, Oh, I’m not a troll. I’m just trying to bring up truth. But if you’re out there criticizing, blaming, you’re ripping apart people. Try to find every little fault and every little exception to somebody’s little statement that they make, because someone doesn’t want to write a 5 million paragraph page, you know, on their social media. And you’re the one that’s to nitpick it and pull it out. Shame on you! Shame on you! For being that kind of person. If that’s what this kind of world has turned you into, I don’t even want to see you once you become later on with the world. It can get worse, right?

That’s a thing like guys, if this is you, I ask you right now. I beg you to cut it out, to actually start to be real abundant, prosperous people. Good people. Naturals. And I know it’s a minority, but those are the people that scream the loudest. Aren’t they? And I’m not saying any particular experience. I’m not pointing anybody out. So if you think it’s you, because I’m saying, Oh, Chris knows me. He’s pointing me out. I’m not thinking of you, but I have seen a lot more. And I’m sure you have too. A lot more negativity out there now. If you want something truly abundant and positive in your life, stop throwing out negative crap. Okay? Like that cannot exist. And there’s people that I swear. I don’t know how they get so much time. And maybe it’s because they’ve been laid off or furloughed or whatever, or they just don’t have business going on. But I’m telling you, there’s way more productive things you could be doing through time than going and criticizing people online. You know, just because you can hide behind your little computer and be a little coward. That is not the case.

So if you want this karmic debt to work for you, that is not what you do. Okay. That was my little soap box on that part. But again, guys, if you say I’m trying to correct people and create effect. No one cares about your corrections! Let’s be honest. Now you might opt to give people some options, right? But nobody cares about your freaking opinion that much. You know, nobody does except for you. You know? And so, I deal with it all the time. Don’t you think me, who’s the guy that’s trying to get financial advice. There’s plenty of bad advice out there. Heck, you’ve heard me talk about Dave Ramsey, but you’ve also heard me compliment Dave Ramsey too. I could go off. If I were like the people today online or to be that kind of person. I would be the person that say like, Oh, Dave’s a fricking moron! He’s an idiot! He’s totally out of touch with reality! Yeah. He’s all about paying off debt, but nobody gets rich off that!

I could totally make statements like that. Right? And especially they’re blanket statements. It’s funny how people will make blanket statements, but then they’ll criticize people for making blanket statements. The hypocrisy in the world is crazy. Guys. You don’t see me doing that, right? Now, there’s been times I have in my life. And especially when I was younger, that was dumb. Okay. I like to think that I learned some lessons along the way. Guys. He’s awesome. He’s a great guy. He does some great, good in the world. Now. It’s not the advice I would give. It’s not the advice I think is good for most people, especially those of you that are listening. If you’re looking for a much, the next step, if you’re going beyond remedial finances, right?

He’s great for remedial finances. Many of you though that are listening to his show, are beyond that. You’re already looking for answers that are outside the box. Cool. He’s got his purpose. I’ve got mine, right? So anyways, there’s a plenty of room in this world for us to be good to each other. And I highly recommend that if anything, you want to see more money coming in your life and less scarcity, be an abundant person. Act as an abundant person. Do things that create more abundance that foster it.

So let me give you an example. So when I was going through those rough times back in the last recession, right. You know, I knew that principals would govern, like I was losing faith a little bit, right. Because I was struggling. I was like, man, it seems like at first it seemed like everything I touched turned to gold and now nothing’s working. It seemed like everything was going wrong. Right? And I started to put a lot of focus on that. I started getting very bitter myself. You know, I remember I was complaining. I was fault-finding. Blaming. You just, you know, backbiting. You know, whatever you want to call it. Gossiping. You know, I had plenty of time on my hands and I was one of the blame and whine about it. And just try to talk it all out and just vent. Here’s the thing. It’s one thing to vent, you know, and just let it out and then go out and be productive. It’s another thing to just whine and complain and do nothing. And except for whine and complain the next day and the next day.

And I remember this was in 2009. So remember 2007 towards the latter half of that year, I still have writing on the walls getting desperate. You know, my finances start to fall apart. 2008 I was basically making no payments or a lot of late payments, right? Or, you know, going late on a lot of things. I was in the foreclosure process. And I remember by April, 2009, this was right before my fourth child was born my third son. And that’s when the knock came on the door and the person said, Hey, I just bought your house at the courthouse a half hour ago. When can you get out? I want to move. I bought this house for my sister. I want to move her in. And of course I was like, Oh my goodness, we’re about to have a baby in the next week or so. So can we pay rent, stay in here for a little bit. And he agreed and we paid about $2,000 to stay in the house for two more weeks.

You know. Anything to try to keep them off our back. So anyways, we did that. Had the baby. And of course we’re able to move out, find a place. All well. You know, my wife has, at the time, it was barely healing from having our child. And it was a hard, hard time. And I’m telling you, I was pretty embittered. I mean, it’s part of me was at least relieved that at least I knew what was happening because every month there was that threat of foreclosure. But because we’re trying to short sell the house, they would delay it. Right? And we, and by the way, we had short sale offers and the bank wouldn’t take it. They foreclosed on our house. $170,000 less than the offers we had for the short sale. I mean, talk about how wrong that is. I mean, that doesn’t definitely help my credit, you know, at that time now it’s gone in the past, but that time that was not a good thing for me.

You know, I was like, okay, now my credit is shot. I just lost my home and everything, you know, everything, a part of it, we just downsized into a house that was about, you know, 35% 40% of the space we were used to, you know, and it was a tough time. And I wanted to moan and complain and blame and everything else. In fact, my wife at that time did the same thing. She was trying to blame other people. It got to the point where I realized I’m the only one to blame here. Right? And of course we were losing patience. Cause we had now been going through this for nearly two years, you know, from the time that we started realize things are getting tight.

So after two years of struggle, and I know some of you guys can relate to this. Two years of struggle, it could definitely wear on you, right? Especially when you had all this faith and this hope, and then it seemed like it was just dashed to pieces. But you know, the great thing is that it got me to the right place.

One, it got me to reducing my expenses drastically over that period of time. Let me to learn to be a better steward of my money and tracking it and watching it and being careful with it. And looking for ways to create value for people. And that’s what I mean about karmic debt, right? Is that, I knew that if I want big results to come, that I got to give big. And so when I was looking at all this, I was thinking, okay, well I know these principles work. I know the principles by, so you’ve gotta be in an abundant mindset, right? When you’re in scarcity, this thing doesn’t work.

You gotta be a place of abundance. What does that mean? That means having faith, that when you apply principles, they work. You know, just like dollars full of value when you create value for people, even if you don’t see the money right away, there’s something that happens. You know, I’ve had people before telling me, even during the last recession that say, Chris, I’m creating lots of value for my employer and they’re not recognizing it. I said, fine, great. Now, granted, you still have to ask for things that you want, right? And you can do that with confidence, knowing that you went the extra mile. I had a client that same time that did the same thing. He kept getting raises because he kept creating huge value. That was his whole focus. Even after you get the next raise, he kept doing it again. And they couldn’t deny it because they knew if they didn’t hold on to someone like he was actually a creator, not a consumer.

You understand that most people, when they go to work, they are just there to consume. They create as little as possible to just get paid. So really most people will just create as little as possible in their job. So they don’t get fired. Isn’t that the truth they just try to do. What’s minimally required of them. It’s like, what’s the minimum requirement I have to do just get an A in my class just to get an A- even, right? That’s kinda what people treat life like. But when you go the extra mile, when you turn into something greater, when you go and apply weight in a way that it shows good true character. Especially when it’s tough times. That’s when the real blessings, the real results are to happen.

And I remember, for me, like I switched something like it was about June or July of 2009. I remember seeing a guy in my office. Guy that we were working with, you know, the main partner. And I could tell, even though it wasn’t really on his face, I could just sense that he was desperate. He was a little bit discouraged. And I realized I was part of the problem. I was bringing negative energy into his space. And I’m like, well, how can he produce more if I’m bringing negative energy into his space? So I made a decision that moment. I said, I’m going to switch it. I’m actually going to have, I’m going to focus on the positive. And I remember reading the book, Never Give Up, by Donald Trump. One of his more humble books, right. That says a lot. So anyways, in that book, he talked about how you’d focus on the one positive thing. Even if there was 20 negative things, you focus on the one positive. So I said, I’m going to do that.

Now it’s more than just being optimistic or being false. Right. I wouldn’t be disingenuous with my optimism. I would find something that was true. That was really true. You know, even meant I’m breathing today. Right. I would find something that was true. I would make up crap. Like, I’m so grateful for this when there’s no reality that. Now there’s something to be said about declaring something that’s not there. That doesn’t seem to be real yet. It might just be in her mind and that’s fine. But you can be, you can find ways to make an honest statement about it, right? I mean, say for example that, someone says like, Hey, like I’m not financially free yet. I don’t have all the passive income I need. You can just say, Hey, I’m on my way. Like I’m progressing towards that goal.

That’s awesome. And focusing on the progression versus where you’re not is huge. It’s huge. And where do you put that focus? And so, you know, they gotta have that level of abundance mentality that’s going with this. For this karmic debt to work. Now, as you’re doing that, it actually makes it easier. And it’s easier to keep stay motivated to keep creating value. And when I’ve had people that said, well, I’m creating value for this employer, it’s not working. Well. Okay. Well guess what, inevitably, the universe has to work in your favor, even if it means that someone else recognizes your hard work and offers you more money. And by the way, that’s happened so many stinking times to clients of mine and friends and people like that when they actually do this consistently and persistently over time. And so that’s what happens is you start to see this really work. And remember this for me was the key.

So that summer of 2009, I’m trying to have a more optimistic attitude. I’m just going, creating value. Sometimes I’m not getting paid for that value, but I said, it doesn’t matter, I’d keep creating it. I’m going to keep being in the right place, doing the right things the right time. And here’s, it’s kind of like, you know, my church, there’s a slogan that says, do what is right and let the consequence follow, right? It’s basically like, Hey, choose the right, do the right things. And then let the cards fall where they may. And usually those cards fall in your favor. That’s the thing.

And I remember it got to August, right? August, 2009. This is just before things turned around for me. And I remember thinking, you know what? I remember, I was praying to God. I said, you know, I know this works. I know these are true principles. I haven’t seen the fruit of it yet, but I know that I’ve been watering this tree. I’ve been planting it. I’ve been nurturing it and doing everything that’s needed for, to bear fruit. I just know that the fruit isn’t here yet. And here’s the thing I said, I got to this place of surrender. And I said, you know what? Even if it, whether it happens next week or this takes 20 years, regardless, I will keep creating value. I will keep building this karmic debt in my favor because I know inevitably the dam has to burst.

And I actually got encouraged by that. I was like, man, the more I create here, the more there’s going to be a blessing on the other side. The harder the pain, the more that there has to be, that polarity, right. There has to be something reverse of that. You know, Napoleon Hill in the book, Think and Grow Rich. Talks about with the seed of every adverse, with every adversity is the seed of an equal or greater opportunity. So think about that. With every adversity, with every negative thing you might have, there’s a seed of an equal or greater opportunity. I’ve also seen this be true. When you go the extra mile, you go the extra mile, there’s an amplification aspect that happens. It’s something that amplifies your results. You know, not just two fold, sometimes be ten fold of actual effort you put in, but many people don’t go quite that far.

They just get stuck. They just do the bare minimum because that’s all they feel they can handle. Guys when you go the extra mile and you start to find ways to serve people and do more, it comes back. And I can attest to that. That was August. I relent. I kind of got that place of surrender. I remember I had a huge fight with my ex my wife at that time, right? My ex wife now, had a huge fight with her. And she’s like, well, when’s this going to end? Like, I’m tired of this. And I’m like, Hey, there’s gonna be a day. I said, I told you so. That this is working. I know it. I feel it deep down. I feel it true. And I’m wondering if you guys had that feeling too, where you just know something’s going to work out. You just haven’t seen the results yet.

Well, that’s what I did, man. September, the dam started to burst just the next month. By October, I realized we’re good. We’re in a good place. Now things are really happening. By the way that happened because one, the person that was projecting negativity on. When I stopped that, allowing him to be abundant and do his thing, he had key connections. So he brought in these key people, especially in the chiropractic and dental communities, he brought them in. And the cool thing is over that period of time, I started honing my craft and getting better and better and more resourceful about finding cash, finding money. And boom! I helped them find cash and they’re raving fans and they’re centers of influence. And they start telling everybody else. And then the whole damn burst open so that by October I’m like, okay, money is flooding in.

I’ve been waiting for this for two years. And here it is. And then by just a few months later, by December and into January, I’m like, I gotta hire more coaches. I can’t handle it all. Like even by one or two, I couldn’t. It was just too much. And so I started going to train more coaches, you know. Same kind of thing that I felt lately. Although I don’t feel like it’s like this two month dam burst or anything like that. I felt that pole. That’s why last year I started late, late last year, I started like training other advisors and other people to back me up because I know that I can’t do it all. And for this ripple effect to become bigger and it impact your lives better. It’s gotta be that way. And so again, it’s about creating that upfront work. You know, that time and energy, so many people will stop it.

They won’t consistently and persistently do it because they think, Oh, it’s not working. And they stop. Trust me. If you trust in this one principle of karmic debt saying, I’m going to build up that debt so much that whether you believe in God or the universe or whatever it has to pay you back. And it has to pay you back with interest. That guys, that is the cool thing about this. So I challenge you. First be in an abundant state of mind, you know, don’t be the troll online. Don’t be the person that’s thrown out negativity, do something different. Don’t, turn off the fricking news. You know, turn off the world. The voice of the world even means you have to disconnect a little bit, do it. Get into a peaceful place. I think right now the trends should be heading more towards spirituality and focusing on your mind and quieting instilling the mind.

Because right now there’s chaos in the world. You have to have peace and abundance in a chaotic world right now. Focus on that. Start creating massive value in the world in whatever way you want to. And by the way, do it even in places that don’t pay you money. The best way to build a karmic debt is find ways to serve people that doesn’t necessarily pay. You just do the right thing and watch what will happen. It’s incredible. Not only will you feel better, but you will attract more. You will attract opportunities. People say, how are you doing this? You must be lucky. You must have some sort of magic or know something or know somebody that I don’t. The truth is guys. It’s not magic. It’s been around since the beginning of time.

People have talked about it, but right now there’s so much noise in the world. They’re forgetting real core, true principles that create massive prosperity. And if you want to even create passive income from the strategic side, you create massive prosperity. You start creating massive income now. Don’t you think you’ll hit passive income faster? I can assure you that is definitely 100% of the case. I am living proof of that guys.

So anyways, that is my advice for you guys. Create that karmic debt. Create massive amounts of debt. This is the debt that you would love and want to eat every day. So create that massive debt in your life. Make karma, work in your favor. Make it a wonderful and prosperous week and a very highly karmic debt week. And we’ll see you later.

#Anti-financial Advisor #Cash flow #Cash flow Expert #Debts #Entrepreneur #Financial Freedom #Money Ripples

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

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Pomegranates (Spideypool)

A very Spideypool twist on the Hades/Persephone story. It hurt my soul to not write 12381927 words of lore and mythology and world building on this, but I love what I managed to get down without going too far over the commission limit (which was 7500 words, and this is like, 12k but hey, its not THAT far over the commission limit, right?) Plus, I love a Peter who is determined to love Wade no matter what.

@pumpkin-spidey thank you for commissioning this and for allowing me to go a little wild with the interpretation and for responding to my nonsense emails while I chattered about random greek mythology bullshit... you’re the best!

THERE’S MORE SPIDEYPOOL ON MY MASTERLIST!

Enjoy!

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

In the beginning–

No. Not the beginning. In the before the beginning, before the humans knew what the beginning was and wove stories to try and explain the cosmos–

In the before the beginning, the Titans and giants ruled and the gods rose up to overthrow them. Anthony fought in the heavens and took the throne of Olympus, his heart glowing from his chest and lightning flashing in his palms. Steven fought among the waves, subduing the Hydra monsters and claiming the throne of the seas. The other gods settled through out the world, content with minor titles and various duties and Wade– Wade came to stand in the throne room of Olympus, his body twisted from the fight, his skin scarred from a thousand wounds, his immortality not enough to keep the pain at bay, his psyche and soul shredded by brutality.

There was still blood on his hands, the stink of ravaged Titans clinging to his shoulders, the wounds of countless battles trying and failing to heal. They called him Deadpool now, the unkillable one, the unstoppable one, the one that came in the night with flashing swords and maniacal laughter. There would be stories written of the terror he’d brought to the giants, there would be songs sang in the dark of the way he killed, the way the victims screamed to the stars for help and none came.

They had fought in the skies and in the depths but it had been Deadpool that had fought in the worst of it all and turned the tide of war and for his prize, for his reward, for his efforts–

“No.” Deadpool whispered, when Anthony took him to the place where the ground fell away and stairs dropped deep into the earth. “No, please–” he begged when the stench of the river reached his nose and the cries of a million souls yet to be collected came to his ears. “I deserve a seat in Olympus, I gave everything to fight this war, don’t condemn me to the Underworld.”

The lonely howl of the beast Cerebus and the cold empty of a realm where nothing grew made Deadpool shiver and he fell to his knees, clutching at the green grass. “Don’t shut me away.”

“All thrones need a ruler.” Anthony’s voice was unrelenting, but not unkind. “You are one of us trapped between living and gone, your soul in pieces but not destroyed, your body warped but unable to perish. You will reign over the Underworld, watching over the souls that linger, punishing those that deserve the darker places. Deadpool–”

“–my name is Wade.” he choked out. “Please– please–”

“This is not a punishment.” the god said slowly. “Your power here will be limitless, you will be able to cover your scars, settle your mind, ease your pain. You are hurt brother, and the brightness of Olympus would shatter all that is left of you. You are a being that is neither dead nor alive and here in the place below places, you will be home and you will be safe.”

“Home.” Wade Deadpool looked up to the sky, to the sunshine, to the flowers that bloomed and the trees that offered fruit and whispered, “But nothing grows down there.”

“Nothing dies, either.” Anthony strived for comforting, but his words fell flat. “This is the safest I can make you, the only way I know to keep you from falling apart. In a place with no time, your descent to madness and pain will be halted.”

Nothing dies either.

What if I want to die?

“Please.” Deadpool whispered, even as spectral hands came to drag him below. “…please…”

The throne of the Underworld was dark and cold, unforgiving rock and unrelenting stone and Deadpool huddled into the blue grey shadows to hide his scarred face.

The river Styx flowed silent, the souls themselves hushed as if waiting for a proclamation from their new King and Cerebus held itself very still.

From the darkness, from the corners, from the rotting places and damp rocks, slithering and creeping to the throne came Panic and Pain, winding their way into Deadpool’s mind and whispering in his head, voices in his ear, terror on his skin.

The Earth closed herself to him, and no sunlight came to touch his face, and even the Fates turned their back and let the golden strand of his life lie mangled and nearly torn, stained with blood and dulled to nearly black.

And Deadpool threw his head back and screamed and screamed and screamed.

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

There was no time in the Underworld, there was neither day nor night, not sunshine or rain. There was nothing but monotony, nothing but sameness, nothing but cold and damp and muted colors, bare branches and silent waves, the wail of those in the darker places, the melancholy of those meant to whirl endlessly in the chasm, the quiet tears of the ones Charon carried between worlds.

Deadpool lived a thousand lifetimes listening to terrible whisperings in his ear, suffered an eternity feeling his skin and body twist and shudder and hurt and as Wade’s power grew in his new realm and he earned his place in legend and myth as Keeper of the Underworld, not even the endless amount of hours could still the loneliness in what was left of his soul, the sadness in what was left of his heart.

It was a century in the dark, a millennia in the shadows, a life time and a day, an hour and a decade, only a breath and then a terrifying amount of uncountable seconds, and the sameness of it all drove Wade to the brink of madness and beyond, until the god that had fought the Titans was no more, and only the devil Deadpool remained.

Oh what he’d give to remember what sunlight felt on his face, to feel the grass in his fingers, to scent a cherry blossom, to taste the sweetly sharp juice of a pomegranate fruit, to breathe in fresh air and be around the living.

But time marched on with unending steps into the suffocating dark, and Deadpool sat on his throne with nothing more than Pain and Panic to keep him company, his true self lost and nearly forgotten in the memories of all but a few, alone and alone and alone.

...until...

…They said the boy came into existence in the Spring, a child crafted from dew drops on a spider’s web and left lying on the flower petals for Demeter to find as she walked the fields and brought them to bloom for another season.

Peter, they called him. Demeter’s son, a child of May and the favorite of Anthony and Olympus. As he grew, he was able to bring Spring with a simple touch, banish Winter with his fingers and create entire forests bursting with life, the planet itself sparking at the sound of his voice.

They said he was lovely and sassy with eyes that tinted gold in the sunshine and fingers that lit green with the color of life, they said his laugh sounded like bells, and Deadpool could not imagine such a beauty.

The only colors he saw anymore were black, blue and gray and the only bells he heard were death tolls and after an eternity alone in the beneath, Deadpool was desperate for something --anything-- beautiful.

“He brings life with just a touch.” Deadpool muttered to himself, staring at the barren trees lining the way to his throne. Their trunks were twisted and bark as marred as his skin, the branches reaching towards a dark sky with not a leaf or bud to be seen and for just a moment, for just a moment he wondered, “If I could see something bloom one more time, perhaps the madness won’t take me. If I can see something live, perhaps the darkness won’t-- won't crush me.”

And Pain whispered, “You cannot go to the surface, the sun will ruin you.” and Panic insisted, “The boy will be too frightened of you and refuse to help.”

Pain warned, “Death and life cannot coexist, the Fates won’t allow it.” and Panic shrieked, “You will bring the wrath of the gods with your selfishness!”

But Deadpool didn’t care.

What did he have to lose, what could the other gods to to him for punishment? Toss him in a pit, hurt him, banish him from the light?

He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, even it was just for a moment, a second, a breath--

He had nothing to lose.

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

“Peter!” May had shed the name Demeter centuries ago, preferring the name the humans chose as they worshiped her the change of seasons and the fertility she brought to their lands. “Peter, child where are you!”

“May!” Peter burst from beneath the surface of the lake, shaking the water from his hair and laughing out loud over May’s startled surprise. “Look how beautiful.” he held out his palm to show off an exquisitely crafted flower with delicate petals. “I created this for the water nymphs. I think I’ll make them in a thousand different colors and call them nymphaea-- water lilies. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Are you creating flowers to please yet another lover?” May raised her eyebrows and Peter wrinkled his nose in a teasing smile. “Some day one of your many consorts will demand your loyalty, and then what will you do? What happens when you find the one meant to be your eternal love, when the Fates wind your strand with another in an unbreakable bond? You cannot continue frolicking with a different companion every night.”

“Anthony does.” Peter pointed out. “He has found the one meant to be his for all eternity and yet he has a hundred lovers.”

May rolled her eyes. “Do not strive to live your life like Anthony, my love. He has an eternal partner and a hundred lovers and a thousand children. He is irresponsible and wild and a thousand years has not changed that. If the humans had any idea how petty and reckless the god of Olympus was, they would not build him temples and praise his lightning.”

“If the humans knew how petty the gods were, they wouldn’t worship any of us.” Peter laughed, and at his side the flowers colored brighter as nature reacted to the sound of his joy. “But I do not scatter children across the Earth or send my lovers into fits of jealousy where one or the other ends up cursed to be cows or peacocks!”

May begrudgingly agreed and Peter continued, “When I spend the night with a companion, flowers bloom and the trees bear fruit. I am a creator god, and my pleasure brings life, whether I find it with one partner or many. Surely there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Surely not.” May allowed and dropped a kiss on her child’s forehead. “But you will change your mind when the Fates bring you your eternal love. Go on creating your water lilies for now, but don’t wander far. The Earth feels restless today and I’m not sure why. Guard yourself carefully.”

“I’m fine.” Peter waved off her worries and dove back beneath the surface to design another lily, this one with brilliant purple flowers and leaves that stretched further than his reach, humming a quiet song and losing himself in the wonder of creation for longer than he realized.

It was May who felt the change first, who felt the earth shift and open, felt Nature recoil as something that did not belong rushed to the surface. There was a flash of light and a roll of shadows, the sound of horses thundering and chariots crashing, and May saw just the glimpse of Peter’s curls and the wild grasp of his hand as he scrambled for a hold, but it was too late.

Disfigured arms reached out to snatch the boy away from the land and drag him down into the beneath and when May screamed for her child, the fields beneath her feet went black with the force of her emotions.

“Peter!” the goddess went running for the chasm, but it closed too quickly and May fell to her knees to dig at the Earth. “Peter!” Clouds filled thick and heavy across the sky, blanketing the sun and wiping out the light and May’s tears brought snow to the dying grass.

Even the Fates themselves paused in their weaving when the goddess dug her fingers into the dirt, her eyes opening the color of raging wildfire, sparking and furious.

“Give me back my child!” May screamed, and when she clenched her fists into the ground, black vines shot from her palms and crawled up the trunk of the nearest tree, strangling the life from it and leaving it barren within a few seconds. “PETER!”

The dead tree burst into flame, the fields scorching in a path straight to where Peter had been swimming and turning the water to mist and the gods in Olympus froze when the atmosphere seemed to catch fire.

“PETER!”

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

Peter didn’t scream when he was snatched from the water, nor did he cry out in surprise when he was unceremoniously dumped onto cold, rough rock and abruptly abandoned, the steel like pressure of arms at his waist falling away with the sound of footsteps and what sounded like whispers.

He took a moment to orient himself, absentmindedly pulling the length of his chiton up from his waist and looping it over one shoulder so he wasn’t dripping wet and half bared to whichever eyes were watching. Then he cocked his head at the empty trees, at the hedge bushes that were nothing more than spindly branches. The river ran slow and sluggish, the air tasted stale and heavy and when Peter turned his palms over and tried to call his power, it came like syrup through his veins until it finally glowed faint green on his skin.

A noise like the skitter of claws on rock, whispers abruptly silenced by a near snarl, and Peter finally lifted his eyes to the raised dais to his left, up rough hewn stairs to a massive throne, and to the figure sprawled in the seat, and when the man on the throne shifted forward and leaned into the watery light, Peter’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“Oh.” he breathed. “Oh, I know who you are.”

“I would hope so, there aren’t many faces like mine around.” A lifetime in the Underworld had turned Deadpool’s voice caustic, the words biting and nearly sneered. On someone else, the answer might have been sarcastic and quippy but from Deadpool it only sounded bitter. “Tell me, do they still call me Deadpool on the surface, or has my name evolved into something more human friendly? I hear they call Anthony Zeus these days. Zeus. Ridiculous.”

“The humans call you Hades.” Peter kept staring, his eyes brightening in interest and a smile curving his lips. “They think you and the realm you rule are one and the same, Hades and Hell, but on Olympus they still call you Deadpool. I’ve heard stories about you, you know.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Deadpool twitched uncomfortably beneath the boy’s perusal. “Am I still the horror stories told around campfires? The one the humans claim make them do horrible things? The Devil?”

“Oh no, I haven’t heard anything like that.” Peter either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the scorn nearly dripping from Deadpool’s words. “No, I meant I’ve heard the stories of how you fought the giants, how you drove the Titan’s back, and why you were sent here. You’re considered a hero, do you know? They have statues of you in Olympus.”

A hero? “...I see.” Deadpool said slowly, but it was obvious he didn’t see at all.

“Besides, I don’t care what the humans say.” Peter laughed softly and out of the corner of his eye, Deadpool could have sworn he saw the river lighten for a split second. “They know nothing and pretend they know it all. Silly things. I don’t know why Anthony loves them so much.”

“No doubt because they are naive enough to think we gods aren’t every bit as awful as humanity.” Deadpool tried not to cringe when Peter’s eyes found his again, the dark brown swirling gold as that interested smile stretched even wider, a plush bottom lip caught between Peter’s teeth as he tipped his head and simply stared.

Deadpool tried not to cringe but it had been a long time since anything other than the eyes of the dead had looked at him and now May’s child, a creator god, an embodiment of life was standing in the realm of death, face to face with the one who hoarded the souls of the deceased.

Deadpool didn’t want to cringe but the sun had hurt him even for the few seconds he’d been on the surface and the fresh air had stung his skin and he couldn’t stand to be so hideous in the face of such beauty.

And Peter was beauty. Even wearing only a simple chiton with hair still drying into thick waves, even with a nearly painful curiosity in the golden eyes and with eerie, otherworldly green lighting the tips of his fingers, Peter was beauty alive and Deadpool was horror unending and it hurt.

“What are you staring at!” He suddenly snarled, angry that he was so affected by the boy, almost furious that this-- this Adonis could be so blase about the moment, could be laughing and looking as if nothing was wrong. “Do not stare at me!”

“I’m sorry.” Peter startled from his focus and held up his hands peacefully. “I’m sorry, but I’ve heard so many stories of you and never once did they mention how handsome you are. I expected the Deadpool to be a monster, not--” he made a vague gesture. “I suppose I should be terrified, but I’ve never been scared of anything in my life and certainly not of a man who looks like you.”

“I am no man.” Deadpool’s heart startled when Peter’s nose scrunched in delight like he thought Deadpool were teasing. “You- you would be wise to fear me, child.”

“Child.” Peter rolled his eyes and huffed as if annoyed. “How old must I be before I am no longer a child to you ancient gods! I have seen over two hundred summers already, and they still call me--”

“They say you can create life with nothing more than a touch.” Deadpool interrupted, pushing down the shiver of wonder that Peter hadn’t recoiled from him like the other gods did, that he had called him handsome. It wouldn’t do any good to bask in the warmth that flowed from the creator god, nor to linger in the way Peter made Deadpool feel inexplicably whole.

He wanted one thing from the beauty-- “Lies.” Panic hissed. “You want everything from him!” -- and then he would let the god go.

“You will make something grow and then I will let you leave.” He said quickly. “Bring something to bloom and you’ll have my permission to leave.”

“That’s it?” Peter looked over his shoulder to peer at the river and then twisted to the other side to look at the hedges. “You went through all the trouble of kidnapping me just so I would make something grow?”

“I--” Deadpool blinked a few times. “Yes. That’s it. You will make something grow, and then you are allowed to leave my realm.” Peter waited, and Deadpool hesitated before adding, “Why else would I kidnap you?”

“Because I’m beautiful!” Peter laughed as if it made perfect sense. “I assumed you wanted my company, not my creator power! Being kidnapped for a moment with a lover would be so much more fun than simply growing things, don’t you think?”

“You--” No, he cannot be serious. “You thought I kidnapped you because I wanted--wanted a rendezvous? You thought I snatched you from the surface because I wanted to see beneath your robes?” Deadpool laughed but it was an ugly sound. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” Peter asked frankly. “You are very handsome and I’m a creator god, I’m gorgeous. I assumed you could not join me in the sunshine so you brought me here instead.”

“And you’re alright with that?” Deadpool asked incredulously. “Are you standards for your lovers so low?”

“Well, it’s not the most traditional proposition I’ve ever received.” Peter winked and Deadpool swore felt it to his soul. “But I can assure you, it would not take much convincing to bring me around.”

“I feel as if I’m missing an opportunity here, but I didn’t bring you here for that.” Deadpool slumped back into his throne and pulled his hood over his face.

For a moment he’d almost wanted to laugh but his reality was far too harsh for something so lighthearted. No matter how teasing and flirty Peter was, everything would change if he saw Deadpool’s face in the light, and the god would rather Peter make something bloom and be gone than risk the humiliation of having the beauty look on him with pity, or worse, recoil in horror.

“Make something grow and be gone.” He said hoarsely. “Please.”

“I’ll have to have your permission to leave, won’t I?” Peter knelt and swept his fingers over the soil curiously, bringing a few bits to his tongue to taste the acidity “Not even the gods on Olympus can pass through your realm alone, much less a lesser god like me.”

“That’s correct--”

“Oh!” Peter jumped up again, eyes wide. “Could I see Cerebus? You brought me down through a split in the earth so we didn’t come to the gates! Could I see them before I go?”

“...you want to see Cerebus?” Deadpool asked in confusion. “Child, you should be--”

“My name is Peter.” he interrupted. “May calls me child and so does Anthony but I not near as innocent nor half as guileless as they want to believe. if you and I are to be friends, you should call me Peter.”

“Friends.” Hope bloomed before Deadpool could squash it, an eternity of loneliness sparking with anticipation for just a second before it was gone. “And-- and why would you think we are friends?”

“Well we aren’t lovers yet, but we certainly aren’t strangers anymore.” Peter winked again and Deadpool had to call his power to physically quell the reaction the pretty brunette brought around in him. “Friends seems appropriate for now, don’t you think?”

All creator gods were like this, Deadpool reminded himself. They were always half drunk on too much oxygen and herbal aphrodisiacs, sweetly flower scented and warmed from the sun. The act of making life moved so easily towards making love that gods like Peter, like could hardly help the way they were drawn to others and others were drawn to them.

But Deadpool was hideous, twisted and deformed, scarred and ruined and Peter should not be staring, much less winking and flirting--

“You will make something grow.” he said again, ignoring the pull in what was left of his soul, ignoring the way he nearly itched to be closer to Peter and bask in the glow of life. It didn’t mean anything, it was just the thrum of a creator god, Peter’s power twisting in the air and creating a connection between them that wasn’t truly there. It didn’t mean anything. “I don’t care if it’s simply grass or a single bloom. Make it grow, then you will be free to--”

“--see Cerebus?” Peter finished, and flattened his palms to the trunk of the barren tree. “Yes, I very much want to see your pet.”

“They aren’t my pet, they are a beast to guard the gates to this realm.” Deadpool argued and when Peter scrunched his nose again in obvious disagreement, Deadpool chuckled and said, “Pete, I’m not going to let you waltz over and pet Cerebus’s nose.”

“You called me Pete.” Peter’s eyes lit golden in approval as his magic ran through his body and out through his hands. “See? You already like me!”

Deadpool scowled but it wasn’t in anger. He had called the creator god Pete, had slipped through with a nickname without even realizing, had laughed a little bit without any effort at all. It was the power of life, of creation that was so unexpected in this realm and that was why he had let his guard down.

It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything.

“Come to me.” Peter’s voice was soft and sweet then, nearly a croon and practically a purr and Deadpool’s head snapped up, his body jolting forward as if he’d been physically yanked by it, his eyes going helplessly to where Peter had pressed his forehead to the bark of the tree and was whispering, “Eláte, ómorfo, come here beautiful, grow for me. Grow.”

Deadpool held his breath and in the silence that followed, Panic slithered to his ear and hissed, “Nothing grows here, not in the underworld. Death and life cannot coexist.”

He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to listen, but Panic’s words were terribly prophetic as Peter leaned away from the tree and stared down at his palms in confusion.

“It didn’t work?” Peter sounded entirely mystified. “I can’t believe-- why didn’t it--” he called his power again and this time his palms lit with a dark, vibrant green that made the very air seem to spark around them and Deadpool held his breath---

--nothing.

“Hm.” Peter clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Perhaps I need time to adjust to this realm. Come on, shall we explore?” He held out his hand to Deadpool and waited with an expectant smile.

“...what are you doing?” Deadpool asked slowly, inching backwards in his throne until he was nearly plastered to the back rest, his breath coming hard and uneven, fingers digging furrows into the rock as every cell in his body screamed to go to Peter and Pain and Panic screamed for him to stay put.

“I can’t very well wander here alone.” Peter said, as if that were a perfectly valid reason for Deadpool to take his hand and escort him through the Underworld. “Usually when I wander I lay a trail of flowers behind me so I don’t get lost but until my power sparks again, that isn’t an option. How else will I find my way around?”

“You’ve been to Olympus.” Deadpool’s fingers bled where they scraped stone to keep himself from running to Peter. “The place is a mirrored copy of the mountain top. Don’t you recognize the throne room?”

Peter’s brow furrowed, his features pinching as he looked around the cavernous space, then his expression cleared in understanding. “Ah. It’s Olympus but without the glitter and gold, without the flowers and flowing fountains. Still a domain of the gods, but--”

“--but dark.” Deadpool finished, and then with a grimace and far more vulnerability than he intended, “Ugly. There is no beauty here.”

Creator gods were drawn to beauty, drawn to life and laughter and it didn’t make any sense for Peter to be smiling that way at Deadpool or for his eyes to be lit quite so warm as he replied, “Humility among the gods is as rare as an eclipse, who knew I’d find it here in the Underworld? What could you possibly mean, no beauty here?”

It would have been easy to discount Peter’s words as kindness, his flirting only flattery for a captor. It was easy to think the beauty talked of propositions as if they were already lovers because creator gods were lovers to almost everyone. But Panic was snarling lies into his ear and suddenly-- suddenly Deadpool had to know, he had to know--

“Pete.” There was the nickname again, easy and natural as if they’d known each other for centuries, as if they were friends and it felt so right, Deadpool couldn’t believe it. “Pete?”

“Yes?” Peter’s chiton had slipped down his shoulder again, baring sun bronzed skin glittered with gold and Deadpool couldn’t tear his eyes away. “What is it?”

“Why--why---” Deadpool wet his lips anxiously. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be nervous, to be unsure. He’d been angry for so long, and after he was angry he was cold and then he’d become numb and he’d forgotten everything else. “....why don’t you flinch from me?”

Peter’s red lips parted, one slim shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“...because you are beautiful.” Deadpool didn’t mean to be honest, he didn’t mean to even be kind but something about Peter soothed his edges, calmed the anger in his soul and even just these few moments in the creator god’s presence had tempered the furious whisperings of Pain and Panic at his side.

Deadpool didn’t understand, but he was grateful all the same. “I took you because you are beautiful.”

“I think our answers are the same.” Peter held out his hand again and that damnable hope bloomed in Deadpool’s chest again. “Now then. You’ll walk with me around this place? Mirror of Olympus or not, I am hopelessly lost without my plants to guide me, and the last thing you’d want is someone like me wandering your realm. Imagine the chaos if I found Cerebus and tried riding them through your Kingdom.”

“Cerebus would never let you ride them.” Deadpool stated, fighting a smile, fighting the growing anticipation that perhaps his eons of loneliness could be drawing to a close. Peter wasn’t flinching from him, wasn’t running away, wasn’t acting as if he desperately wanted to leave. It was more than Deadpool could have ever hoped for after everything and maybe--just maybe the Fates had decided to grant him just a bit of happiness.

But still, he tried to temper his smile as he said, “Cerebus is vicious, Pete. They are more likely to bite your hand than allow you to pet them.”

Peter had no such qualms about hiding his smiles, and the room lit with his brilliance as he returned, “Are you sure? I’ve never met a dog I didn’t love.”

“You should be in a hurry to leave this place, you know.” Deadpool finally peeled himself off the throne and came down the steps, close but not too close to Peter, letting his his sleeves fall over his hands to hide the scars. “Not trying to adopt the guardian of the Underworld.”

“And you should be in a hurry to make me leave.” Peter countered, tipping his head back and back to meet Deadpool’s eyes, his hair falling loose and curled around his face. “Not standing here being so tall and tempting me to try and climb you like a tree.”

“Climb me like a--” Deadpool shouted with unexpected laughter. “Pete--!”

“Come on!” Peter laughed too, reached for Deadpool’s hand and clasped their fingers together, humming when the god shivered at the gentle touch. “Show me your world.”

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

Deadpool did not let go of Peter’s hand as they walked, even as the creator god dusted his fingers across various plants and tried to spark something green. Every once in a while there was a flash, sometimes even a burst of color but it never stayed and when it inevitably faded, Peter only shrugged and moved on.

And Deadpool didn’t let go of his hand, not sure if he even could at this point. The energy that rolled through Peter’s body was almost intoxicating, electrifying and Deadpool felt as if his fingers were nearly fused to the other god’s, woven together and unable to separate.

Before the beginning, creator gods were hidden away and protected from the Titans and the giants and Deadpool had only heard of them in theory, in passing, in whispers from the more lecherous of the gods as they talked about aphrodisia that hovered above sun warmed skin, lips stained red from berries and kisses.

He’d never been this close to a creator god, had never touched one, had never had one turn and offer him a smile or tease and flirt, or stare at him as if he gorgeous instead of cringe away as if he were hideous.

It was unbelievable and almost too good to be true, and when they stopped at the banks of the river and Peter knelt to peer curiously into the water, it was then that Deadpool caught sight of his own reflection and realized that it was too good to be true.

All the time he had been in the Underworld, Deadpool had never sought his own reflection. It was telling enough that the newly arrived souls shuddered in horror when they saw him, that even Charon would not meet his eyes, that Cerebus whined and ducked their heads when he approached.

Deadpool could see the scars on his hands and could feel the itch of pain on his face and didn’t need a reflection to tell him he was ruined.

Anthony had promised the Underworld would heal him, and as Deadpool stared down at the reflection of clear skin and nearly blonde hair, he suddenly understood why Peter hadn’t cringed away.

Too good to be true.

The creator god was drawn to beauty and somehow this realm allowed Deadpool to look how he did before the war, when he’d rivaled Anthony and Steven in looks and the goddesses and nymphs had fought over who would lie in his bed each night.

Peter didn’t see him, he saw the glamour the Underworld had afforded him and that was all it was, that was the basis for the attraction that flowed thick between them and the reason Peter didn’t drop Deadpool’s hand and run away.

Too good to be true.

“How long did it take the scars to heal?” Deadpool startled from his thoughts when Peter squeezed at his hands. “The stories all say the war ruined you, ruined your body, but I can’t see it. How long did it take them to heal?”

“They haven’t healed.” Deadpool looked down at his palms, at the rough patches and raised lines that only he could see, the awfulness of it contrasting so sharply with Peter’s flawless skin. “It’s an illusion, one I didn’t realize had taken affect. This is why you didn’t scream when I grabbed you, why you are drawn to me. I’m not healed but the Underworld has given me a glamour to cover it.”

“I wouldn’t stare in horror even if you weren’t glamoured.” Peter countered and Deadpool denied, “That’s easy for you to say that when you are not seeing it.”

Something like sadness flickered through Peter’s eyes, turning the honeyed brown almost black, and he turned on his heel to press his hand to the ground and whisper to the dirt, green rippling from his palms and then fading into nothing. “Damn. Not quite. Come walk with me some more and I will try again--”

“Leave it be.” Deadpool was still staring at his own reflection, a mix of awe and revulsion making bile rise in his throat.

This was why Peter was willing to stay, this was why the creator god was letting his power spark and form a connection that felt nearly intimate. If Peter were really seeing him, the beauty would have turned tail and screamed to be returned to the surface, he wouldn’t be flirting and teasing and insisting on holding Deadpool’s hand as they wandered.

“You are stupid for hoping.” Panic whispered and Pain chimed in, “This will be another memory to hurt later on. Let him go.”

“Tell him to leave.”

“You were banished here alone, why would you think the Fates would grant you someone so beautiful as company.”

“Do you hear that?” Peter tipped his head in confusion, and shook his head. “The whispers, are they constant? Is that the--” he gestured to the river. “--the souls? Or the wind that sounds like voices or--”

“You should go.” Deadpool dropped Peter’s hand and stepped away, hunching his shoulders and turning his back. “Go on. You have my permission to leave.”

“You told me I had to make something grow before I returned home.” Peter’s eyes flickered dark again but his tone was light, expectant. “I’m not leaving until I bring something beautiful here. Something beautiful besides you, I mean.”

He was flirting again and it hurt like nails raking down Deadpool’s cheek. “You are the something beautiful.” he said hoarsely. “The only thing beautiful this world will ever know. Now go.”

“Why are you hiding from me?” Peter reached for Deadpool’s hand and frowned when the god jerked away. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“You are being kind to me because you only see this form.” Deadpool said bitterly. “You creator gods, you are only drawn to beauty and if you saw me in my true form you would turn away from me. I thought perhaps the Fates---”

Deadpool shut up, wrenching his hand free from Peter and putting it over his mouth. “Leave. Get out. Consider this your permission to go to the surface and get out.”

“What did you say?” Peter reached for Deadpool’s hand again and matched the span of their fingers. “About the Fates?”

“I said nothing about the Fates and I told you to get out.” Deadpool couldn’t look away from their hands, the heat gone from his words and defeat evident in the slump of his shoulders. “May is no doubt unleashing some sort of awful Winter on the surface world as she searches for you, and you do not belong in this realm. Leave.”

“You don’t want me to go, and I do not want to leave.” Peter ignored everything else Deadpool said and stepped closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “What were you going to say about the Fates?”

“Only that they are cruel women to tempt me with you.” Deadpool whispered and Peter’s eyes tinted gold in understanding. “Leave before I make you stay. Please.”

“I’ll stay until I can bring something to life.” Peter said decisively. “That is what we agreed on and that is what I will do. But first you must tell me your name.”

“My name is Deadpool.” Deadpool’s emotions roiled over and his eyes flickered haunted red, the glamour fading from his skin and revealing the scars for one awful second. “Everyone knows that.”

“What was your name before you were Deadpool?” Peter lay his hands gently, so gently where the scars had shown on Deadpool’s arm and stood on his toes to make their noses bump, smiling when the other god didn’t pull away. “Who were you before? Who are you really?”

“Your name doesn’t matter.” Panic whispered, and Pain agreed, “He won’t care anyway. You will tell him and he will leave and it won’t matter.”

“Do you even remember it?”

“Are you anyone at all besides this monster?”

“My name.” Deadpool breathed out shakily. “...is Wade.”

“Wade.” Peter’s finger tips lit light green as he reached for the hood and pushed it further away from Wade’s face, drew his fingers to Wade’s temples. “Kiss me.”

“Pete--”

“Kiss me.” Peter said again and Deadpool grimaced away from him. “No, no I know what you’re going to say about how creator gods want to kiss everything, how we make love as easily as we make life, but this is different. Please. Kiss me.”

“I don’t think--”

“Just one.” Peter’s touch was soft and so so warm and Wade could have fallen apart beneath it. “What will it hurt? One kiss. Please?”

He had nothing to lose and it had been so long since Wade had known anything beautiful at all, so he gave in, bent down, leaned in to press his lips to Peter’s and swallow the quiet gasp the gorgeous brunette made.

“Oh-h-h--” Peter sighed and chased the kiss, the vibrant green at his hands heating until Wade’s entire body was thrumming with energy. “Wade…”

Too long Wade had been jagged pieces and sharp edges and but as their kiss lengthened, deepened, his brittleness melted into slow, caramel languidness that began and ended with Peter’s drugging mouth, the sweet taste of Spring and the verdant suddenness of sunshine--

--and somewhere in their place between places, the Fates wove a strand of gray so dark it was nearly black with a red as ruinous as blood, and put them together with a brown that shifted gold in the light and a lush, living green.

“Interesting.” One said to the other, and the other said to a third, “We did not see this.” and the third set the strands as stone and decided, “What Fate has brought together, not even the gods will tear apart. A creator will love a guardian of souls.”

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

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

There was no time in the Underworld, so it might have been minutes or it might have been days, as Wade and Peter wandered hand in hand along the paths of the god’s realm. It could have been an entire season or nothing more than an hour as they shared kisses that grew more and more heated with each pass, Peter’s power flexing in the air like aphrodisia, Wade helpless against the pull and not caring to try and stop.

Some things were meant to be, some fated lines were meant to cross, and though Wade knew the surface world was no doubt paying for his selfishness, for his boldness in snatching a god of Spring and Growth, it was difficult to care when Peter was laughing and bells were ringing, when Peter was teasing and Wade was whole.

It could have been a hundred years for all the time between them lasted, a million steps they took in no particular direction, a thousand quiet conversations that didn’t have to mean anything at all.

They went aimlessly through gardens every bit as grand as those in Olympus but empty, the vines brown and brittle, the ground littered with the remains of petals that had fallen before they’d even opened all the way. They explored the winding maze hat was nothing more than spindly branches and tangled hedges, paused at fountains that had never flowed, sat at benches that had never been used.

The orchards were empty and bare, the trunks twisted as if wrenched by force into horrid shapes and though animal eyes peered from behind walls and out of darkness, the shapes that separated from the shadows weren’t quite right, not quite normal, and Peter pressed a little closer to Wade as they passed.

The only creature Peter didn’t shy away from was Cerebus, in fact the creator god greeted the beast with wide smiles and awed exclamations and Wade didn’t know whether to smile or to curse when the three headed monster huffed at Peter’s clothing and then simply fell at the god’s feet and blinked up at him in adoration.

“Oh you beauty.” Peter crooned, getting right down on the ground next to Cerebus and patting at each head in turn. “What a lovely creature. There is nothing like you on the surface, nothing at all, you are magnificent.”

“He is a monster.” Wade disagreed and Peter scowled at him-- or gave the closest approximation to a scowl he could manage when he was flushed pink in happiness and laughing out loud as massive teeth closed whisper soft over his wrist as Cerebus demanded more attention.

“Just because he is different doesn’t mean he is a monster.” Peter denied and pushed his face into one of Cerebus’s foreheads. “There is beauty found everywhere, if only people would look.”

Wade felt the approval and acceptance from the creator god as healing balm on his skin and once Peter had murmured at least a hundred praises of ��good dog’ and relinquished his hold on Cerebus, he pulled Peter back up into his arms and buried his face in the curve of Peter’s neck.

“Alright?” Peter asked softly, holding Wade just as tight for just as long. “Are you ever so devastated that I’e ruined the guardian of the gates?”

“I’m sure he’s perfectly worthless.” Wade said dryly and when Peter laughed, he tipped the brunette’s chin up for a long kiss. “Walk with me, Pete.”

“I’m right here.” Peter scrunched his nose and kissed Wade right back. “You’re the one not doing the walking, oh god of the Underworld.”

Wade laughed which was-- well it was surprising all on it’s own, and tugged Peter further down the path, ignoring Cerebus’ whines and quiet growls at having their new friend taken away.

“May says the Fates always know where our lives are leading.” Peter said sometime-- maybe days?-- later, green sparkling everywhere he touched, there and gone again, bright and then dimming, flaring with life before succumbing to the call of death. Peter didn’t even seem to notice, his touches too casual to be purposeful, his eyes either on Wade’s face or on the creatures that flitted on the shadows. “And the harder we pull on the strings, the tighter the Fates draw them until we have no choice but to walk the path they design.”

“Are you saying I was fated to rule the Underworld?”

“Whatever you were fated for, it led to our paths crossing, even if it’s only for today and that is enough for me.” Peter yanked Wade in for a kiss that went on and on and on until the creator god was gasping and shivering and Wade was clutching at his sides with a sort of desperation he’d never thought he’d feel again.

“Peter.” he whispered, and the beauty smiled into another kiss. “Lovely, you practically bloom when we touch.”

“If we were on the surface there would be new flowers appearing every time we were together.” Peter decided and Wade left a gentle kiss on his palm. “I’d create entire forest for you, my love. Moonflowers and jasmine and night orchids. Beauty that you could enjoy without the sun hurting you. Which one is your favorite?”

“It doesn’t matter, Pete.” Wade denied but Peter insisted, “Tell me! I want to try to make something for you!”

“I--” Wade didn’t want to tell the creator god how badly it would hurt if even after all this time together-- or, the little time together perhaps. How long had it been? Had he loved Peter forever, or was it still only a few minutes?-- he didn’t want to tell Peter how badly it would hurt to love and to be loved, for it was certainly love brightening golden brown eyes, and then to see even that wasn’t enough to bring life to the Underworld, to bring beauty to this domain.

“Tell me.” Peter swept aside the folds of Wade’s robe and and pressed his hands to the god’s chest, humming and sighing when Wade leaned into the touch with a quiet moan. “Mmmm, do my hands feel good, my love? Like sunshine, isn’t it, but no pain?”

“No pain.” Wade tugged the sleeve of the chiton off Peter’s shoulder and mouthed over the glitter on the creator gods skin, reveling in the pleased sound Peter made, the way the brunette pushed tighter into his arms. “I only feel you, Pete.”

“What is your favorite thing in the entire world?” Peter pressed. “What is your favorite flower, your favorite fruit/ I want to make something bloom for you, don’t make me guess. Time between lovers should be spent learning each other but not all learning requires questions. I’d rather learn by touch, but first I want you tell me just one thing. Please?”

“...Pomegranates.” Wade could practically feel the strands linking his and Peter’s hearts and souls strengthening, weaving, settling as he admitted,“Pomegranates are my favorite and I haven’t had them since before the Titan’s fell.”

“Then that’s what I’ll make for you.” Peter decided and with one last kiss, he pulled away to crouch on the ground and rake his fingers into the dirt. “What this is between us has brought my power back to the surface, look.” he held up his hands to show Wade the brilliantly green glow. “Be still, my love. Be still and watch.”

This time Peter lifted his chiton above his knees and knelt on the ground, spread his hands wide and leaned over until his forehead touched the cold soil as well, and Wade held his breath--the Underworld held it’s breath-- in the places between places the Fates stopped in their weaving and waited--

--and Peter whispered something soft and sweet, gentle and coaxing, clicking his tongue and trilling under his breath--

--and the ground exploded with the force of life, a trunk shooting skyward and weaving together with supple limbs, leaves bursting from the tips and coloring gorgeous green, flowers unfurling in all the colors of sunrise and then fruit, ripening heavy and round and plentiful until the branches strained to hold themselves upright.

“Oh!” Peter fell back onto his heels and clapped his hands. “Oh, I did it! Wade, look!”

Wade was looking, but he wasn’t looking at the tree. He was staring at the creator god laughing in excitement, at the way Peter’s eyes were wide with wonder as if the pomegranate tree was the first thing he’d ever created, the way Peter kept glancing at him as if for approval.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” he whispered, and Peter’s cheeks flushed a surprised, pleased pink, his eyes sparkling gold. “Pete, you are the most beautiful wonder--”

“Taste.” Peter broke the first fruit in half and scooped the seeds from the inside, holding up his fingers to Wade’s mouth and gasping when the god sucked them into his mouth with a low moan. “How-how is it?”

“Peter.” Wade pushed the rest of the fruit away and crushed their mouths together, sharing the sweetness and holding Peter as tight as he could. Moonflowers and night orchids burst into bloom at their feet and Peter laughed again as his power surged between them in a blast of warm air.

Wade fell backwards onto a ground suddenly covered in thick grass and Peter landed on top of him, hands roaming and legs tangling and mouths meeting again and again and again. It could have been weeks, it could have been years while Wade remembered what it was to love and Peter proved how easy it was to learn someone with nothing more than touches and whispered yes and please and more, my love, always always more.

It could have been a hundred years lost in each other’s arms, an entire millennia while the strands of Fate wove tighter and tighter between them until Peter wasn’t sure where he left off and Wade began, where creation and life met death and end but it didn’t matter when their kisses were stained with pomegranate juice and their skin was slick with sweat and Peter was--

“Ah!” He cried out, breaking away from a drugging kiss and rolling out from beneath Wade, clutching at his head. “Ow ow ow--”

“Pete?” Wade sat up in an instant, adjusting his tunic to cover more of himself and reaching for the brunette. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“I can feel um--” Peter shook his head, dazed from the sudden drop of swimming in pleasure to nearly crying from pain. “I can feel May, feel her anger-- the surface-- Winter--”

“She’s taking her pain out on the humans because she can’t punish me for taking you.” Wade realized. “She can’t see in here to know you are fine.”

“I forgot you kidnapped me.” Peter managed a laugh, and shook his head. “I’ve been so lost in you, I don’t even know how long we’ve been here, I forgot how it all started. I have to go and see her so she stops unleashing blizzards on the surface.”

“--you have to go?” Ice cold reality crashed over Wade, rocking him to his core with a rush of horror, the woven strands that tied he and Peter’s souls straining at the thought of being apart.

Peter only sighed as if the entire thing was a simple inconvenience. “I’ll come back, my love. Give me time to soothe May and right whatever the Winter has ruined above and I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“But Pete if you leave, you can’t--” Wade started to answer but Pain dug it’s claws into his calves and muttered, “Better to let him leave.” and Panic whispered, “If he knows he cannot come back, he will feel obligated to stay, then he will resent you.”

“He will hate you and wither to nothing if you make him stay.”

“Wade?” Peter held out his hand and waited for Wade with raised eyebrows. “I’ll need your help to leave, won’t I? Come on.”

Wade got to his feet and clasped at Peter’s hand, swallowing back his fear as he said, “You have my permission to leave, Pete. You don’t need anything more than that. But--but you can’t take anything with you, or you’ll be bound to this place. If you leave now, you are free but if you take anything with you, you will be forced to return.”

“You don’t have to force me to return.” Peter said with a quiet laugh, pressing at Wade’s palm and falling into step beside him. “Look at the beauty we’ve created together! I’ll come back of my own will.”

But if you leave, you won’t be allowed back in.

Wade pushed the truth of it away, pushed away the Panic at the thought of losing Peter when he’d only just found him, pushed away the Pain of facing another eternity alone. “It’s very important that you take nothing with you, Pete. Being bound to this place is not like visiting, do you understand? It’s awful, and I won’t let you do that.”

I’d rather lose you forever, then bind you here against your will.

“I understand!” Peter insisted. “But stop worrying! You are staring at me as if I’ll never--” he frowned. “Wade?”

“Pete.” Wade cupped his jaw and forced the creator god to meet his eyes. “Give me the pomegranate.”

“Wade--”

“Give it here.” he ordered again and Peter gave another one of those put out sighs before withdrawing a handful of seeds from the folds of his chiton. “Pete, if you took these with you and ate them along the way, you would have to return. You wouldn’t have a choice, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

“You think if I don’t have a choice, I’ll grow to hate you and this place.” Peter realized slowly. “You want me to come back of my own free will to prove--”

“--not to prove anything.” Wade hastened to correct him. “No Pete, not like that. But I don’t want you to hate me. Whatever this has been, whatever we have here, I want it-- I want--”

“You think I’ll leave here and never come back.” Peter whispered. “Don’t you? You’d rather give me the choice of never coming back than let me be bound here with you.”

Yes.

No.

Oh god, please please stay with me.

“I think you’ll find the sunshine and forget about the shadows.” Wade said around the lump in his throat, around the strangle of the strands of Fate as they strained to nearly breaking. “You will find your other lovers and forget about me.”

“How dare you.” For the first time since Wade had snatched him below, Peter’s eyes dimmed, the glow disappearing from his skin. “You think so little of me, after all we’ve shared?”

“You are a creator god.” The words were ash in Wade’s mouth, bitter and painful but he said them anyway, spoke over the slither and hiss of Panic and Pain. “You love whoever is beautiful at that moment and then you move on. You think I am beautiful, but the truth is, I am not and when you return to true beauty, you won’t want to come back to me. It’s your nature and I will not try to change that.”

“No!” Peter came close to Wade and shook his head. “No, you are wrong. I know you feel it, I know you can feel Fate winding through us. This is not my magic, this is not my nature, this is truth and eternal and--”

“You have my permission to go.” Heartbreak, a new voice, companion to Pain hovered over Wade’s shoulder. “But do not feel as if you owe me anything to return. You’ve done what I asked and made something grow and now you are free to leave.”

“I don’t know if I should be angry with you for assuming I will forget you, or love you for giving me the freedom to do so.” Peter’s eyes were nearly black in sadness and the grass at the base of the pomegranate tree started to wither. “Will you kiss me before I go? One more time?”

“Peter--”

“Kiss me, damn you.” Peter threw his arms around Wade’s neck and yanked him down into a fierce kiss, crushing their mouths together and biting down into Wade’s lip until he drew blood and the other god cursed, held him tighter, kissed Peter back until neither of them could even breathe.

And then Peter’s eyes swirled gold with affection and a sweet sort of satisfaction that Wade didn’t understand, the creator god’s fingertips lit green as he brushed them over Wade’s temples and down along the line of his jaw. “You taste like pomegranates, my love. A taste and a beauty I will never forget.”

“Go on.” Wade said raggedly, pushing Peter away gently but firmly. “Peter go, get out. Get out before I change my mind.”

“I’ll come back to you.” Peter promised, but Wade turned his back and shook his head, and Peter went on his way.

Lost in the gathering darkness, hiding from the sight of the Earth opening to allow Peter back to the surface, Wade didn’t see Peter leave, and when Cerebus didn’t lift his head and howl in anguish as the Earth closed above them again, Wade knew even the dog was heart broken.

But he hadn’t seen Peter kneel by Cerebus’ post and whisper, “I’ve done a wicked thing, you lovely beast. I’ll see you soon.” and he hadn’t seen Peter pause by the pomegranate tree and whisper a blessing into the flowers.

Stumbling for his throne and slumping into the gloom, Wade Deadpool saw nothing but Pain and Panic, Heartbreak and Self-Loathing writhing around his feet--

--and clawing up his legs to get to his heart.

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

The Winter on the surface ceased as abruptly as it began, the blizzards easing and lightning calming the moment Peter stepped from the Underworld and reached out his arms for May.

“You are over reacting.” He scolded the goddess teasingly, letting his power flex and warm the frigid air, bringing flowers to bloom to make May smile. “I left to spend time with a lover and you devastate the human’s with an unending Winter! You cannot be so angry when I am reckless!”

“A lover.” May repeated in disbelief. “Peter, you were kidnapped! Taken from me! The Earth opened up and swallowed you and you-- you---” Peter raised his eyebrows and May cursed out loud. “By Olympus. Peter! You took Deadpool as a lover?”

“He’s very handsome, May.” Peter said absentmindedly, dusting his hands over the banks of snow and banishing them with a flick of his wrist. “Lonely, too. I would not wish a banishment to the Underworld on anyone, let alone someone who helped fell the Titans.”

“His body and mind could not survive the aftermath, and living in a place where time is still was the only way to save him.” May relented quietly, sadly. “There was a time when Deadpool was the most beautiful of us all, but the things he did in the war-- they ruined him, Peter. You have to be careful with this. It is in your nature to be drawn to those that need love but you have to be careful. Deadpool’s power might have eased his mind and masked his scars but that doesn't change who he is.”

“No.” Peter brought an orchard back to life with nothing more than a few words and a pulse of green from his palms, gold brightening in his eyes. “No, it doesn’t change who he is and yes, it is in my nature to want to love, but this is different, May.”

“Different.” May hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Peter, you cannot go back and see him.”

“Of course I can.” The wind warmed around them as May’s hold on the Winter eased even further, and Peter created a pomegranate tree from nothing more than his will, coaxing it from the soil and stretching it towards the sky. “What is there to stop me?”

“My child.” May’s face fell into sadness. “Oh, you think you can go back and forth to the Underworld, but you cannot. It doesn’t matter what connection you think you forged with the Deadpool or how wonderful your months--”

“Months?”

“--you’ve been gone for almost six months.” She confirmed and Peter’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I do not know how he fooled you for all that time, but you cannot return to him. Once the portal to the Underworld is closed, no one can come through unless it is time for their soul to pass by Cerebus and through to Charon. You will never see him again.”

“Yes.” Peter said firmly and May paled at the belief in his voice. “Yes, I will see him again. The Fates have woven us together and we will not be torn apart.”

“Peter.” May whispered. “Oh Peter, what have you done?”

Peter only touched his lips where they were stained with pomegranate juice and a remnant of Wade’s blood, and smiled.

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

All life failed in the Underworld.

Any humanity left in the souls that came to Charon flickered and fell away before they departed the ferry, the darker souls in the deeper places writhed in an existence that was only alive enough to cause pain and the rest was nothing but death.

The grass Peter had brought to green as they kissed withered away to chaff and scattered, the flowered hedges wilted and the orchards fell to ruin until all was black and bleak and bare again.

All life failed, and as the beautiful pomegranate tree lost it's color and then it’s leaves and the fruit rotted on wasted soil, Wade let his own power fail, let it seep away like blood into the cracks of the throne room, taking his glamour along with it and leaving him scarred and twisted and in body racking pain.

Everything hurt and Wade couldn't manage the energy to will it away. Pain and Panic roamed freely, not corralled by his will any longer, and Heartbreak and Self Loathing grew content in his psyche until Wade could hardly hear over the noise in his own head.

“You sent him away.” one voice hissed, day after day after day. “It’s your own fault you’re sad now.”

“You did the right thing.” another snarled for weeks at a time. “Perhaps you have some humanity left after all, to spare the beauty an eternity of your horror.”

“You are disgusting.” Abrupt and scathing, repeating for ages and ages. “No wonder the humans tell horror stories about you.”

“They call you the devil Deadpool, perhaps you should act like it.” Encouragement to awful deeds, unrelenting in his ear.

“Stop letting the souls circle in peace, force them to pay for their sins.” Coaxing, nearly pleading, non stop for more minutes than Wade could count.

“Stop standing idly by, command this place like the damnation it is.”

“He was a creator god, you made yourself into a god of destruction. Prove it.”

“Violence. Anger. Destruction. You are so good at it. Unleash it all.”

“Burn it all to the ground.”

“Get back at Olympus for what they did to you. They wanted you when you won the war and then forgot you here below.”

“The Fate’s spun those threads and then severed them just as quickly.”

“You are meant to be a madman, meant to be cursed, why don’t you enjoy it a little.”

“Burn it all to the ground.” “You are disgusting.” “He is never coming back.” “You should have forced him to stay.” “You should have forced him to love you.” “You should have forced him--”

“NO!” Wade fell from the throne to his knees on the unforgiving stone, dragged his fingers across the surface until they bled. “No no no. Please. Please--”

So long he’d been alone with the voices and the pain and after Peter had come and gone it all seemed worse. It was so much worse, it was so much worse, he couldn’t--he couldn’t--he couldn’t--

Warmth.

Wade froze when he felt the softest ray of sunshine on his skin, the barest puff of summer wind, the lightest hint of something floral and beautiful in the air.

“....Pete?”

There it was again, warmth and sunshine, summer wind and flowers and Wade forced himself to sit up and look and there-- there on the pomegranate tree was a single bud forming on the tip of the highest branch, turning from brown to green and then unfurling into a beautiful leaf as Wade watched in shock.

And then another, joining the first, a third joining those two and as the god’s jaw fell open in disbelief, the pomegranate tree leafed out entirely until it was green and healthy and glowing.

“...what?”

It had been so long, or maybe it hadn’t been long at all, but it felt like forever since Peter had gone and yet here was life, proof of the creator god, right here in the Underworld.

“Oh.”

“Pete.”

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

The pomegranate tree grew at something of a regular pace, the leaves lengthening until flower buds appeared, the flowers opening into brilliant colors a while after, the first signs of fruit coming along much later after that.

And on the day the fruit was ripe, Wade stumbled from his throne and lurched towards the tree, leaving Pain and Panic, Heartbreak and Self Loathing behind as he plucked a red pomegranate from a tall branch and broke it open to stare at the ripeness within.

“Are you going to eat that without me?”

Wade’s head jerked up when he heard Peter’s voice and when he tried to speak, the words failed the first time. “P--Pete--”

“I told you I’d come back.” Peter was almost painfully beautiful, his eyes a season wiser and skin a summer more golden, the green at his finger tips swirling in the air as if he couldn’t quite contain his power. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“You--” Wade glanced back down at the mouthwatering fruit then up again to Peter. “You aren’t allowed back in my realm without permission, no one passes Cerebus without my knowing. How are you here?”

“Oh my love.” Peter touched his lips gently. “I never really left. I carried a piece of you the surface and left a piece of myself here.”

“When you bit me.” Wade said numbly. “And I bled.”

“Only after we shared a pomegranate.” Peter acknowledged. “Something of me and something of you.”

“I--” Despair, not a new companion but one that had made itself so loud after Peter had gone the first time. He’s only here because he is bound to this place. “I didn’t want you to return to me because you had to, Pete.”

“I chose to stay because I wanted to.” Peter said simply, easily. “I’m not bound to this place, Wade. I’m bound to you. Willingly. My choice, not yours.”

And then with teasing smile, “I mean, you didn’t have to let me force feed you pomegranates and you could have pushed me away when I bit you. So I suppose this is sort of your choice, too.”

“My choice.” Hope, blooming unexpectedly and nearly taking Wade’s breath away and then all at once it was crushed when Self Loathing hissed, “Your scars. Your glamour is gone.”

“Oh.” Wade dropped the fruit and turned away, hiding his face. “Pete, I--”

“I thought you were going to kidnap me again.” Peter’s smile didn’t even waver as he ambled in closer to the tree, plucking a piece of fruit of his own and breaking it open, inhaling the syrupy sweet scent and smiling as he scooped the seeds free. “I even waited by the lake, sure you’d spring up and take me away.”

“You need to give me some time.” Wade mumbled, stumbling blindly up the stairs to his throne, desperate for the cover the shadows would provide. He needed a moment to gather his power, to flex his will and cover his scars and his ugliness. “Pete, please just give me a minute.”

“Wade.” The creator god might have just been light on his feet, it might have been his magic, but suddenly Peter was there right in front of Wade, pushing him back into the throne and crawling onto his lap to straddle his thighs. “Why are you hiding from me?”

“I--I--” Wade had thought he’d forgotten what it meant to be terrified, but right now he was terrified as Peter brought his palms up to frame his face, fingers stroking careful lines over his cheek and jaw. “Pete--”

“I’ve missed you.” Peter leaned in and pressed their mouths together, inching closer until they were touching everywhere possible. “Mmmm, my love. Haven’t you missed me?”

“Of course I have but--”

“But?” Peter bumped their noses together, slid his hands beneath Wade’s tunic and flattened his palms to the rough skin. “But what?”

“Do you see me?” Wade caught Peter’s wrists and held him still. “Pete, do you see me? This is me, this Deadpool, the scars and the--” he swallowed. “--the demons at my feet. My glamour is--”

“Unnecessary.” Peter glanced down to the foot of the throne and then kicked out at Panic and Pain until they scattered, waved his hands at Self Loathing and Heartbreak until they slunk away and said conversationally, “I had to compromise with May, you know. She is upset I want to be here, but I promised to be on the surface for an equal part of the year so the two of will have to learn to share.”

“Share.” It felt incredible to be the recipient of Peter’s smiles again, to feel the lithe body against his own and see the open, honest, affection in the golden brown eyes. Wade was still trying to understand it all, still tempted to cringe away from the light, but Peter was smiling and touching him and pressed close as if nothing was wrong and he didn’t see anything awful even when Wade’s glamour was gone.

“Share.” Wade said again and this time he tried for a smile. “I have to share with May? I don’t share well Pete, I don’t-- don’t think that will work.”

“You ancient gods are so selfish and petty!” Peter’s laugh was clear and bright and intoxicating. “But that’s why I left the pomegranate tree behind! When the leaves fall, I’ll go back to May, and when the fruit is ripe, I will return to you. It’s balanced! Learn to share!

Wade tipped his head back onto the throne and squeezed at Peter’s waist, trying not to let his roiling emotions spill out and over. “You’ll come back to me when the fruit is ripe?”

“Like the seasons, my love.” Peter promised, and then with a thoroughly enticing wiggle, “Now then, aren’t you going to tell how happy you are to see me?”

“I uh--” Wade pressed at Peter’s waist again and the gorgeous creator god came closer, sparking his magic until the air was filled with aphrodisia and Wade’s body was surging to answer the invitation. “I just barely got Cerebus trained to be vicious again, you’re going to ruin them.”

“Oh no, not a vicious Cerebus!” Peter gasped in mock horror, then tipped his head back and whistled, and in the distance, Cerebus answered with an excited howl.

“And um, if you’re going to stay, you’ll need a throne.” Wade said next and Peter’s eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Unfortunately there isn’t room for a second one in here so...”

“So, I suppose I’ll have to sit on your lap.” Peter said solemnly. “Any other complaints, oh guardian of the Underworld?”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Wade’s voice cracked then and Peter magicked a pomegranate blossom out of thin air and into his palm, dusting the petals over Wade’s lips.

“Never, my love. Never.”

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

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