#thread - one of us is lonely one of us is only waiting for a call | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeoosaangg · 8 months

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Ride || Kinktober - Day 1

pairing ▸ kim hongjoong × f!reader

now playing ▸ ride - somo

⤷ ❝i'm gon' take care of your body. i'll be gentle, don't you scream.❞

genre ▸ idol au, established relationship, smut

warnings ▸ virginity loss, fingering, corruption kink, penetration, hair pulling, biting, marking, swearing, praise, slight degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

It's been two months since you last saw your boyfriend.

When you started dating, you understood the implications of such a relationship — the many lonely nights away from each other — but this was just too much.

Insecurities started to settle in as he stopped answering your phone calls and messages; looking at online comments didn't help you either.

「joong's been fucking, hasn't he?」

「why ateez are getting bitches: a thread」

「and when i give hongjoong that double twist, gawk gawk 3000? THEN WHAT??」

These types of comments usually made you laugh, but you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach looking at them now.

What if Hongjoong is tired of waiting for you to be intimate with him? What if he's secretly sleeping with women behind your back?

That'd explain his lack of communication, right?

Maybe if you were ready to take that next step, he wouldn't leave you.

So you find yourself stripping out of your clothes, only staying in your underwear. You grab one of Hongjoong's hoodies and slip it on.

You inhale his scent, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. You've never actually done this before either, so it's a bit exciting.

You settle yourself in the middle of your shared bed and open your legs wide. Your hand slips into the white fabric of your thong, middle finger rubbing your clit.

You arch your back, head against the pillow at the euphoric feeling crawling up your skin.

You whimper your boyfriend's name, pumping one finger inside your dripping cunt. You add another, increasing your pleasure.

Y/n: Fuck. Hongjoong, please.

You add a third finger, feeling stuffed.

It feels so good, you don't hear the front door opening.

You use your thumb to stimulate your clit while pumping harshly into your wet pussy.

Y/n: Gonna cum!

Hongjoong's name slips past your lips several times, your breathing erratic from your orgasm.

You lay back, your legs slightly shaking. That was the first time you've ever came. It felt liberating.

Hongjoong: What a beautiful surprise you had waiting for me, princess.

You sit up so fast and stare at your boyfriend with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Y/n: B-Baby? What are you doing here?

Hongjoong: Our tour ended yesterday. Just got back an hour ago.

Y/n: Oh! Welcome home, baby.

You get up and hug him tightly. You hide in his neck in hopes that he’ll forget about what he just walked in on. But in truth, he’ll never be able to forget such a beautiful sight.

His hands cupped your ass cheeks and lifted you up. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, cock print pressed against your heat.

Hongjoong: Look at you trying to play innocent. You were a greedy little whore that was screaming my name just a second ago.

You whine while unconsciously grinding down on his growing bulge. The feeling has you gasping, pressing your forehead against his.

Y/n: Missed you so much. Felt sad.

He frowns, sitting against the headboard while you straddle his lap.

Hongjoong: Why were you sad, precious?

Y/n: You were ignoring me. Got insecure and started overthinking.

Hongjoong: Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. I never meant to neglect you on purpose. I just wanted to surprise you when I came back home.

His left hand massages your ass while the other caresses your lower back. He pulls you flush against his chest knowing the close proximity was reassuring you.

Y/n: Please touch me.

He smiles while leaving chaste kisses on your face.

Hongjoong: I already am, beautiful.

You whine, too shy to say what you want out loud. You hide in the neck again and feel him chuckle against the crown of your head.

Y/n: Sexually, Joongie.

Oh?

Hongjoong grips your hips tight when you start moving against his crotch. He needs to be one-hundred percent sure you're ready for this.

Hongjoong: Princess, I need you to tell me exactly what you want. I don't want you to push yourself beyond your comfort zone, especially not at my expense.

Y/n: I want you to finger me, to fuck me. I want you to take my virginity.

The sound of your whiny voice almost has him coming untouched. You sound so beautiful to him.

He wants to ruin you.

Hongjoong: As you wish, princess.

He guides your hips to grind against him as he devours your lips. You gasp and moan into his mouth, surprised by how aggressive and eager he instantly got.

You love it.

He trails his kisses down your neck and watches the hickeys form against your skin. He moans at the sight, admiring his artwork.

Hongjoong: Turn around for me, baby.

You do as you're told and lay back against his chest. He slides his hand into your underwear, making you roll your eyes into the back of your head when his finger slides into you with ease.

Hongjoong: You missed me this much? I can practically feel how much your cunt is throbbing for me.

Y/n: Yes! Missed you so much! Please give me more.

And who is he to deny you?

He adds two more fingers, making you choke on your moan.

Hongjoong: Fuck, baby. You're so tight. I wonder if you'll even be able to take my cock.

Y/n: Can I- Oh God, can I cum?

Hongjoong: Go ahead, angel. Cum for me.

You feel your orgasm wash over you while his fingers still pump into you at a rapid pace.

Y/n: Too much!

Hongjoong: You can take it, love. Need you absolutely soaking before I slide into your needy cunt. Isn’t that what you want? For my fat cock to fill you up?

Your legs shake as your third orgasm hits. You scream out his name in desperation. You want him inside you so fucking bad, it aches.

He pushes you forward, turning you on your back. He discards your thong, leaving you in just his hoodie.

Hongjoong: You look so adorably fuckable like this — messy hair and swollen lips — gonna fuck you while you wear my hoodie, baby.

He lines his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes inside your gummy walls. You whimper, feeling a tight pressure in between your legs.

Hongjoong: You're taking me so well, baby. My good girl.

You bite your lips to keep your noises at bay. You wouldn't want your neighbors to file a noise complaint.

Hongjoong kisses your face while letting you adjust to his size. He starts leaving more hickeys down your neck and collarbone.

Y/n: Move, please.

He slides out and slams back into you at your request.

Y/n: Fuck!

He starts with slow but deep strokes. Every inch of his cock stretches your tight pussy, eliciting moans from the both of you.

Hongjoong: You feel so good, baby. Look at your pussy, so inviting despite how big my cock is. Should I go faster?

Y/n: Yes! Oh God, yes!

He starts pounding into you, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as your pussy squeezes around his cock.

Drool slides down your face, but you don't care. You’d let him do whatever he wants as long as his cock continues to fuck you dumb.

His lips trail down to your neck again, but instead of leaving more hickeys, he starts to leave bite marks into your flesh.

Y/n: Hongjoong! So fucking good.

He licks over his teeth marks and smirks against your skin.

Hongjoong: Such a good girl. Letting me mark you, baby. Now everyone’s gonna know how much of a slut you are for me.

He sits back on his knees and pushes your legs to your chest, turning you around. The new position has Hongjoong fucking you deeper than you thought possible.

Your face is buried in the pillow while his fingers lace through your hair. He pulls your head back, using your hair to rock you against his cock.

Hongjoong: Baby, you're doing so good. Making me feel good. My perfect little fucktoy.

Y/n: Gonna cum.

Hongjoong: Hold it, baby. Let me watch your swollen cunt swallow my cock. So perfect for me, and only me.

His free hand slips under the hoodie to fondle your breasts, making you cry in pleasure. You don't know if you can hold it any longer.

Hongjoong: You're gonna cum for me in 5…

He moves his hand down to rub circles into your clit. You scream, wanting to release already.

Hongjoong: 4... 3…

Y/n: Please. Oh, fuck!

He slaps your clit, making you jerk back into him. The movement only added to your desperation.

Hongjoong: 2... 1. Cum for me, princess.

You scream, clawing at the sheets as your orgasm hits you harder this time.

You try to catch your breath, but your boyfriend continues fucking you into overstimulation. You proceed to drool on the sheets, feeling his thrusts get sloppy.

He pulls out and pumps his cock until he cums all over your lower back.

Both of your heavy breaths can be heard in the room while he climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. He comes back and gives you a fond smile.

Y/n: Where did you go?

Hongjoong: Just went to get a bath started, precious. I'm not leaving you.

Y/n: Oh, okay.

He gently scoops you in his arms, setting you down on the cold sink. You whine at the feeling, earning lots of kisses.

Hongjoong: Sorry, love. Was I too rough?

Y/n: You were perfect. I'm glad my first time was with you.

Hongjoong: Thank you for trusting me with something as precious as your virginity, Y/n. I love you.

Y/n: I love you more.

Hongjoong: Impossible.

═══

a/n: the things i'd let this man do to me... remember, everyone: delulu is the solulu! lmao, thanks for reading ‹𝟹

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turtlecleric · 5 months

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I'm in Hell

SPOILERS FOR SYMPHONY CHAPTER 22 - THIS POST IS LONG YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

I'm so Unwell. I have never had any misunderstandings like the thing with Donnie, but I have been betrayed by someone who was my best friend for years, so this chapter... it's hitting me really, really hard.

---

When Leo first met Vi, he was studying her a lot. Remember the near-physical weight his scrutiny had felt like? You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. ... like a pinned rabbit ... you see an obsidian edge beneath his smile that feels a little sharp as you lean into it.

And then later in her apartment:

[Leo talking] “…You know what really got me interested in talking to you?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Donnie came back from talking with April and he was talking about you."

This is literally Vi and Leo's first time meeting - I don't think Leo started to really hate her until after she started coming to the Lair and he saw how Donnie reacted to her presence, but he mentions that Donnie talked about her already. It's framed within Vi's mind as him being careful with his family. He's the leader, he's careful around new people, he wants to make sure she isn't a threat, etc. But even though this is before the touch thing started, there could've been the seed of hatred already there depending on how Donnie spoke about Vi to Leo.

---

He [Leo] peers at you like he can read your life story where it’s written on your soul. ... “…You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” he asks, his voice soft and yet cutting you all the same.

and this:

[Vi talking] “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’d… like to have more nights like this one. To. To have a family. If I can.” “You can,” he [Leo] says

He knew from the first fucking time he met her that she was lonely. That she wanted friends, wanted a family, wanted to belong. He knew that better than anyone else in the family, not only because of her saying this to him but also because of how well he reads people and how much time he spent with her. He's the only one who has seen her in her apartment, too, caught her in those few vulnerable moments in her home. I'm so fucking angry.

There are so many times in the fic that... I can't even articulate... here's some quotes early on -> "you hate how much you like this guy [Leo]" and "you smile when you see [the text notification is from] Leo" and when Vi is sick in the store she says "I miss Leo" and on and on. And that whole fucking time! He was!! UGH!!!

---

When Vi agrees to make Leo some bread so that maybe he can get some of Donnie's apology cookies he texts her "ttyl i gotta go rub this in donnie’s face" and yeah that's him being a little shit as always, but it's ALSO proof of him using EVEN THEIR PRIVATE TEXT CONVERSATIONS as ammunition rile up Donnie.

---

Hey look! Bits that hit different/hint at more going on/might be Leo's mask slipping!

“How long do we hafta wait before she ain’t a guest anymore?” Raph asks, causing you to snort a laugh.

“That’s up to Donnie,” Leo says, voice heavy with an undercurrent of meaning you’re not picking up on, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smirks, reaching over to poke your cheek with his finger. “Y’know. He’s the one who met you first, and all that.”

…Something tells you it’s more than that, but he’s good enough at hiding it that you don’t feel comfortable calling him on it in front of the others.

...

you have no idea how you fit in [to the family], and Leo had all but told you that the space is here, ready and emblazoned with your name on it. You don’t quite see it yet, even if he apparently does.

...

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s complicated,” Leo says easily, and it’s only just, but you pick out the thread of iron bars in his tone, ready to come crashing down if you push even a little too hard. So, you don’t.

“Okay,” you say easily, causing him to get that piercing look he gets sometimes, the one when he feels more like a ninja than a funny turtle man who tries to see how many cookies he can shove into his mouth at once and sends you pizza rat memes at four in the morning. “…Dude, we’ve been friends for like, a week. It’s cool that you aren’t ready to spill your guts yet, you know that, right?”

His eyes go sharp, but then he hums and smiles. You feel like you did the night you first met him, like there’s a test here and it’s in a language you don’t understand. It’s a bit uncomfortable, prompting you to grab your own drink and swallow a healthy bit of it just to have something to do.

...

[Vi talking] “…He [Donnie] seems lonely.”

Leo hums under his breath, cutting a portal that feels a little like home. “Well, lucky he has you, then.”

...

“Uh, I met her first,” Donnie says, scowling, while Leo just gives him a smug look.

...

You do, however, lean in while the others are occupied, whispering to Donnie, “So, ten dollars, which one of them tops?” and laughing when he chokes. You catch Leo’s eyes and give him a devious grin, spying him look to Donnie with a curiously blank look before shifting to a catty smile of his own when he looks back to you

...

“One portal home for a lovely lady,” Leo says as he steps through, his face going a little flat when he looks over your shoulder to Donnie behind you.

...

Leo is… astonishingly quiet for a moment, his face blank of anything for you to read as he stares at the piece hard. Then he looks up at you, and you see an unusually capable person that doesn’t feel like your best friend, even as much as it feels like the real Leonardo, here for the first time for you to see.

...

[Vi talking] “I don’t… I don’t like keeping secrets. Or lying. Not from people I care about.”

The weight of Leo’s eyes is almost physical. It makes you remember that he’s asked you to keep secrets, and your eyes snap to his, wondering if that’s the reason why he’s gone still like this. “I—I haven’t told anyone. About the ninja thing, or the Krang thing. I’d never—”

“I know,” Leo interrupts, threading his hand through your hair so he can cup your nape and press your forehead to his own. “I trust you.” You release a sigh of relief, nodding. “I’m just… thinking it might be time for us to repay that back.”

You blink, gaze darting between his eyes. “I don’t… what do you mean?”

“We’re a pretty close-knit family. There’s a lot of… baggage. A lot of history. A lot of stuff we haven’t told you. And it’s… it’s starting to feel a little disrespectful,” he says, looking a bit displeased. “You’re one of us. It’s only fair.”

---

We all know about the constant comments Leo makes about being Vi's "favorite turtle" and "best friend" in front of the others/in the group chat. He talks in Chapter 22 about purposefully draping himself across her and pulling her close, hugging her, scenting her, touching her in front of Donnie to piss Donnie off. But there's all these other little things that seemed so innocent at the time and now I'm losing my mind wondering about each of them, wondering - is that something he did with malicious intent? How many nice things were ONLY done to piss off Donnie? There are so many times that he compliments her - for example:

“What? I can’t compliment my bestie and her fine legs?” Leo coos, reaching over and flicking your nose gently.

“Leonardo,” Donnie warns, folding his arms.

And I remember, during my second read through after I finished Chapter 20, being so happy and grateful that Leo was pretty consistently giving her compliments, because she deserves to be complimented and taken care of and loved, because she deserves good friends who hype her up, and this WHOLE TIME-

(Side note - that time that Leo complains she smells like Donnie's lab, he shoves her away and she falls to the floor. First read, it's just Leo being playful. Second read, I wonder... is that a little bit of his frustration getting out of him in a physical way? He shoved her to the fucking floor, and then, once Donnie shows up, Leo pats the cushion next to him for Vi to sit by him. Then he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in close to smell her. But that's only after Donnie shows up.)

When Mikey takes Vi's So-Shell profile picture -> “Wha—?” you start, only to feel Leo leaning in to smoosh his cheek against yours, the distinct feeling of bunny ears brushing the back of your skull. Once again, this is in front of Donnie. Plus it's for her profile picture, so that means every time Donnie sees her So-Shell profile he'll see Leo in the picture, too. Leo was also famously the first like on her first So-Shell post and gets her to always leave nice comments/emojis on his thirst traps.

When she comes to the Lair to practice with her viola, Leo offers up HIS room first, and only once she declines does he -> “Ugh, fine, you are so boring,” he says, and removing his arm, he shoves at your shoulders hard and pushes you through the portal. (Pushing her onto the floor, pushing her through the portal... he's kind of rough with her in the beginning, and I figured it was just because he's haha silly funny turtle man, physical comedy, joking around whatever but... again I wonder. Is he letting himself be a little rough as a way to express his true feelings?)

God, all these little things that... might have an ulterior motive and might not.

It's around the time Vi gets bruised up by that guy at the coffee shop that Leo seems to start actually acting like a real friend, in my opinion. “…You don’t even get how incredible you are, do you?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. “You seriously don’t see it.”

The very next chapter he gets a glimpse of her being anxious over not being able to play, while she notices that he looks tired, invites him to listen to music and lets him sleep on her back, and in that chapter it says: you sit, quiet, letting him use you. My second read through, this line hit me hard because I KEPT noticing that she really does nothing but GIVE and I feel like she's constantly doing things to be useful to others. And now, as I'm skimming through a third time, it turns out that... yeah. Yeah. He was fucking using her. In Chapter 22, Leo says "then you reach out and touch me in a way no one has. You’ve helped me, even though I was just using you" and I'm thinking this is the moment that that really started. When she first let him sleep on her. And that's also the first time he churrs with her. After that, he gets her really nice sushi, and she thinks he's guilty for drooling all over for her, but I think maybe he was guilty because he's starting to realize how nice she is and how shitty it is that he's using her like that, even though he does continue those manipulative behaviors.

---

He sighs, his face going openly affectionate. “…You’re so…”

What he thinks you are, you don’t know, as he chooses instead to pull you into a hug. You go easily, seeking the comfort of his embrace, hoping he can feel in your arms that you truly do mean what you said.

“You know, instead of sorry, you should say—” Leo says, though as his face gets close to your throat, his mouth snaps shut and he goes still in a manner that reminds you a little of Donnie.

“…Leo?” you ask, going to pull back from the hug to look into his face only to feel his hands go tight on your back, holding you close while he dips his beak to your skin and inhales. When he does pull back, he’s got a look of shock on his face that he quickly schools into something more neutral, but barely.

This is where he smells Donnie on you for the first time, and the guilt he was starting to feel, the actual genuine affection he was developing for her, may have then been interrupted/overshadowed by his anger.

Vi was right to say she isn't gonna go back and examine every detail, because it's so fucking MUDDY! There are glimpses of true softness from him sprinkled throughout with him ALSO still hanging over her and doing shit that pisses Donnie off on purpose. And then of course the scene with Leo in the kitchen when he scares her, where we get the first big glimpse into his true anger about the whole situation, where we see him being sharp and cutting and dismissive and- I'm not going to paste in that whole scene, but he's so, so, SO angry. When she has that visceral, terrified reaction, he feels so bad (I do think he was genuinely, truly horrified that he scared her), but then he finds out that Vi and Donnie are (as far as Vi is aware) dating, followed by her telling him that Donnie misses touching his brothers, misses hugs, followed by Leo deciding to tell Vi about all the family secrets... so he's wrestling with this rage and jealousy, but he's also starting to really accept her as family (I think, since he shared the info about the Krang, about Lou Jitsu, about Casey, since he asked for her help)...

It kills me that, after that, he saw her trying so hard to help, like when she went to the library and got books on PTSD and fell asleep taking notes and she wakes up with a blanket covering her and a little blue heart on a note - he saw her doing that, on top of everything else she CONSTANTLY does for other people, for his family, and HE STILL, EVEN AFTER THAT, DOES SHIT THAT'S MANIPULATIVE. THE 4TH OF JULY PARTY, FOR EXAMPLE. “What she said,” Leo purrs, his fingers fluttering on your stomach as his eyes cut off to the side. He has a sharp look to his features that you’re a bit too drunk to dissect, so you just ignore it. He HAS to be looking at Donnie, here.

(Side note - we still don't know what Leo was doing when Vi was in the shower getting ready for the party... if anything. Maybe he really was eating cookies.)

It's at the end of the party that he smells sex on Vi, I think, for the first time. And the following chapter is when he starts avoiding Vi, and she goes to confront him and he says he's "Thinking about things. About what I want.” And THAT'S when he finally stops his bullshit. Ch 22 - "I stopped. Completely. After we talked in my room.”

---

I'm still working on fully re-reading Chapters 17+ until I make it back up to 22 and putting more thoughts into that post, but. Dear God. Sam is a genius and I'm so angry at myself. I had been so confused and angry with Donnie, when in reality he truly DID NOT KNOW about the misunderstanding between him and Vi. Meanwhile, as I'm fawning over Leo and so happy Vi has him and so grateful he's been such a good friend to her... he was the one using her, this whole time. I cannot believe it. I'm SICK with rage. I can't imagine how Vi could possibly... I can't... FUCK dude

#symphony #turtlecleric ramblings

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

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Silent Lucidity | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! Shocking that this is yet another Taylor Swift fic. I've had these lyrics in my head for a bazillion years and finally figured out how I wanted to use them.

Warnings: Self Harm (kinda), anxiety, nightmares, blood, knives

"He seems fine most of the time, forcing smiles and neverminds. His laugh is a symphony, when the lights go out, it's hard to breathe. I pull at every thread, tryna solve the puzzles in his head, Live my life scared to death he'll decide to leave instead.

...

"If I was standin' there in your apartment, I'd take that bomb in your head and disarm it. I'd say I love you even at your darkest, And please don't go."

You put your phone on ‘do not disturb’ every night without fail.

The eight hours between falling asleep and waking to a blaring alarm were sacred. Precious. And you allowed no one to bother you with an unwanted call or a rogue text. Everyone and everything could wait until morning- well, not everyone.

Bucky’s calls and texts never went unanswered. Only Bucky’s name sat on your ‘favorites’ list. Only he could break through the ‘do not disturb’ wall and rouse you during the night. But he never called for irrelevant chit chat or texted memes at 2am. His communications during the silent, lonely time in the middle of the night were important. Sometimes dire. For everything else, he made himself wait till morning.

He didn’t like bothering you, hated waking you with one of his anxiety-driven phone calls. His heaving inhales and breathy voice always shook the sleep from your body. But his calls were never a bother- you'd stay on the phone with him all night if that's what he needed. After talking him down, you’d ask if you could drop by his apartment to check on him. And without fail, he’d reject your offer. He needed to learn to handle things on his own, he said. Needed to find a way to cope that didn’t drag you out of bed.

Back at the compound, your room sat only feet from his- you could hear him sobbing from your bed. Every night, you’d gently wake him and save him from his nightmares. And every night, he’d crawl into your arms. You held him close, as though you could protect him from the things inside his head. Eventually, you’d fall asleep. And nothing beat waking up next to him.

But nothing lasts. And Bucky wanted to strike out on his own. Or, not so much ‘wanted to’ as ‘had to’. Everyone on the team had moved out. Or died. Everyone except you and Bucky. That’s when the eviction notices came. SWORD took over the building almost overnight, and they “needed” every room. No exceptions.

The news launched you into action. After only a few hours, you found five two-bedroom listings in the city for excellent prices. And with the information in hand, you knocked at Bucky’s door. His room sat in a state of pristine order, his few belongings stacked in a small box. But when you presented your findings to him, he was all ‘that’s okays’ and ‘I’d rather nots’.

And it hurt you. Embarrassed you. Living in the same apartment seemed like the perfect next step. You could have your room and Bucky his. And when the monsters came calling in the middle of the night, all you’d have to do is rush across the hall.

But he said he wanted to figure things out for himself. Alone. And who were you to stop him?

But you worried about him- almost constantly. His apartment wasn’t warm or homey like yours. He didn’t furnish it much or make the space his own. It was cold. And sad. And mostly empty. Much like Bucky.

On a daily basis, you forbade yourself from begging him to move in. If he didn't want to live with you, if he wanted to try and make things work on his own, that was his business. But it didn't stop you from missing him. Maybe he didn't need you anymore- but you needed him.

Your buzzing phone woke you with a start, and you answered without even looking at the screen.

“Bucky? Hey, is everything okay?”

No response. Not a sound came from the other end of the line, not even his ragged breathing.

“Hello? Buck, talk to me.”

“I didn’t know what else to do…” he said. His voice was low and empty- it didn’t sound like him.

You flicked on the light and sat upright, too nervous to lie down any longer. “Are you okay?”

His words sounded inhuman, almost robotic. “I don’t know.”

“Can I come over?” you asked, knowing he’d say no.

But his response shocked you.

“Please.”

With that, you jumped out of bed. A pair of shorts sat crumpled on the floor near your dresser, a tshirt hung from your doorknob- you didn’t care that they didn’t match and weren’t clean. You just needed to get to Bucky.

“Okay, great, just stay on the phone with me,” you said, slipping into your sneakers. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m bleeding.”

A pang of anxiety ripped through you as you searched for your keys, “You’re bleeding? Is it a lot?”

“I don’t know,” he said. No inflection. No emotion.

Your throat tightened. “Okay, just-” you did your best to sound calm, “I’m leaving right now. What happened?”

He paused. “I don’t remember.”

“Alright. Don’t hang up. I’m on my way- I’ll be there in a few minutes.” His apartment was fifteen minutes away during the day, but at 3:19am, you knew you could make it there in under ten.

“Okay.”

Why did he sound so hollow? And how was he so calm? He was never this calm after a nightmare.

“Just stay on the phone- don’t hang up till I get there.”

“Okay.”

He said he was bleeding- why was he bleeding? What could’ve happened in the safety of his empty apartment? Your chest ached. You ran every red light.

You listened to his even breathing on the other end of the line, as asking questions proved less than helpful. Every answer was “I don’t know” or “I can’t remember”. And worst case scenarios burned through your psyche. Was this Hydra related? Did Shuri’s work on his mind fail?

“Okay, I’m here-” you said as you threw your car in park. ”But don’t hang up. I’m outside. Give me two minutes.” The lobby sat empty, the front desk unmanned. But even if someone tried to stop you and get you to fill out a visitor pass, you’d break their jaw. The elevator was too slow for your liking on a good day, so you opted for the stairs. “I’m almost there,” you breathed, tired from dashing up four flights, “Don’t hang up.”

The key Bucky made you rested safely inside your fist, its sharp edges digging into your flesh. But you didn’t care. Tetanus was worth it. You thrust it into the deadbolt and threw open the door. Silence. Bucky’s apartment was dark. Quiet. Still.

“Buck?”

No answer.

“Bucky, where are you?” you said into the phone. All you got back was another “I don’t know.”

With wild energy, you flew through Bucky’s apartment. Turning on lights, calling his name. Every room sat empty and still- no signs of Bucky. But as you turned the corner you spotted a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. It beckoned you into the en suite bathroom, where you found Bucky.

A sharp gasp filled your lungs at the sight. He sat motionless on the floor, his back resting against the tub. He was seemingly catatonic, his trancelike stare boring through you- past you. His metal arm lay discarded next to him, its shiny surface dotted with red. And a familiar knife sat in his lap, its blade coated in blood. Countless knife wounds dug into what remained of his left shoulder. They were jagged. Deep. Frantic. Blood spilled from his flesh and dripped down his side, staining everything in its path. It formed a puddle on the floor. The grout didn’t stand a chance.

But amidst all the horror, Bucky still held the phone to his ear. Just like you asked.

“Buck?” you said, your voice gentle.

No response.

“Bucky. It’s me…” A bit more forceful.

Nothing.

You didn’t have time to wait for his answer- he was bleeding. He needed help. You grabbed a towel from his cabinet and made your way to kneel at his side, careful not to slip in the blood.

“I don’t know if you can hear me- but if this hurts, I’m really sorry.” You took a deep breath, and applied hard pressure to his wounds.

A horrible sound left his chest. Something between a gasp and a scream. He lurched in the opposite direction, pulling his wounded shoulder from your grasp.

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’s just me. I tried talking to you but-”

Bucky didn’t let you finish. He leaned into you with full force, welcoming your presence. A sigh of relief left his chest and his weight fell against your body. He was desperate for you. Wherever he’d gone, wherever he’d gotten lost in his mind, your soul-affirming touch helped him find his way back. Your lips found his forehead and dotted kisses along his sweat-slick skin. You rested a hand in his hair, pulling his head into your chest.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair, “You’re okay.” But the continuous spilling of his blood contradicted your assurances. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna hurt you, but I-”

He nodded.

Bucky winced when you replaced the towel on his shoulder. The raw wounds throbbed beneath your firm pressure and burned as the seconds passed. But he couldn’t find it in him to complain.

The two of you sat in silence as you stemmed the bleeding. The tile floor dug into your knees the longer you knelt by his side. Your hand ached from pressing into his shoulder. His blood stained your nails. And the warmth coating your hand as his blood seeped through the fabric ignited goosebumps across your skin.

You never liked this part of your relationship with Bucky. You liked being his source of comfort, of course. Liked taking care of him and making him feel safe. But seeing him so shaken, so deeply disturbed never got easier. And the blood. Not that you were squeamish or ever felt faint at the sight of his injuries. It was the knowing that he was in pain that cut you to your core.

“You doing okay?”

He nodded. And the bleeding stopped- mostly. But Bucky didn’t pay much mind to the status of his wounds. Instead, he focused on your hand running through his hair. The sound of your voice. The scent of your perfume lingering on the unwashed shirt you wore. And when the time came for you to clean up the massacre, he didn’t mind the pain. The sting of warm water rushing into his wounds didn’t bother him. Nor did he protest when you wrapped them in gauze. He was just happy to see you. Relieved to have you by his side.

Satisfied with the state of Bucky’s condition, you took a seat next to him. He leaned into you, paying no mind to the agony radiating from his shoulder- your warmth soothed the pain.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” You hoped to coax him out of the silence. But his eyes remained downcast like a guilty child. “I’m not upset with you, Buck. I just wanna know what happened.”

Bucky wanted to know what happened, too. Rather, he wanted to understand. And explaining what he experienced seemed impossible- like when he’d tried to watch Inception. “Um, I don’t- I have nightmares, you know?” He turned to you with anxious eyes, almost as though he were asking permission to continue.

“I know.”

“Okay…” he said. “Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?”

You ran through the catalog of random information and fun facts that resided in your brain. “Um, yeah. The thing where you’re asleep- and you realize that you’re dreaming? And then you can like, control the dream?”

Bucky’s right hand fiddled with the fabric of his sweatpants, pulling and stretching at it over and over. “Uh, yeah. Basically.” He took a shaky inhale, “ever since I moved in here, I’ve been having lucid nightmares- I guess that’s what you could call them. It’s like… I get dragged from cryo and into a reset or I find myself in full Winter Soldier gear on the brink of killing someone who doesn't deserve it. And then I realize. I realize that something’s- I don’t know, something feels off.”

His hand raked through his hair and pulled at the strands near the nape of his neck. You clocked a slight shiver shake his body. “I’m never one hundred percent sure that it’s a dream, though. It’s like- I’m in control, I can make my own choices. But it all feels too real. So then I wonder if…” He turned to you, “if this is the dream.”

He picked up the knife in his lap, it’s sticky, blood-slick blade sticking to the fabric of his sweats. It was the knife he always kept on his bedside table, the knife he’d once mistakenly brandished at you after a particularly bad night terror. “There's supposedly a few ways to tell if you're dreaming- they say you should try and count your fingers. But that doesn't work for me. I kept trying different things, but I... I realized that there’s only one way I can tell what’s a dream and what's real,” he said. “Pain.”

Of course. Nothing was ever nice or easy or comfortable for Bucky. Of course it was pain that helped him navigate his nightmares.

“If I get hurt in my dreams, I don’t feel any pain. And that’s how I know it’s not real. So my method is-” he cleared his throat. “It’s a little weird, I guess. I find whatever I can- usually one of my knives- and bury it in my chest. Or drag it across my neck. And if it doesn’t hurt, I know I’m dreaming. I can wake myself up.”

He watched your gaze twist from concern into horror. “Buck, I don’t- why not just prick your finger?”

He shrugged. The motion made him wince. “I tried,” he huffed. “Things like that are too small. It has to be deep. It has be bad.”

No words came to mind. No logical thoughts presented themselves to you. Just image after image of knives thrust into Bucky’s rib cage. Blades severing his jugular.

“I’m sorry…” he said, his voice low. Almost timid. “But it’s what works for me, you know?”

"What if you're not sure? What if you..." you shied away from the words, "what if you do that, but you're not dreaming? What if you're awake, and you-" You couldn't finish the sentence.

"That won't happen."

“Then what about tonight?” You eyed the pool of blood coagulating on the floor, the crimson stains under your nails. “I don’t- How did this happen, Buck?” It wasn’t anger that tainted your voice. Not judgment or disgust. Just worry. Fear for Bucky’s life.

“Well, tonight was… it was different,” he said. His eyes roamed the bandaged wounds you’d so gently cared for, the red smears that colored his chest. This was a disaster. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what happened. I was back there- I was with Zola. Right after the um… the train. I was on the table. And they were sawing off the rest of my arm.” He cleared his throat. You instinctively reached for his hand.

“And then, I had this metal in my body- I could feel it under my skin, grinding against my bones. And I realized. I realized that it didn’t seem real. I grabbed a scalpel from the tray next to the table and forced it into my shoulder. I wanted to see if I could…”

“If you could dig it out?”

He nodded. “And it didn’t hurt. But it didn’t wake me up, either. I was confused. So, I kept going. I didn’t know what I’d done until- this has never happened before. I’ve never actually hurt myself. Not in real life. But I woke up with a knife in my hand and a bloody mess in my bed. It scared me. And then…”

You swallowed the thick feeling in your throat. You forced it away. Without words, you offered to let Bucky lay in your lap. And he accepted- instantly. Resting in the safety of your body calmed the shaking in his hand. And finally, he took a deep breath. His lungs filled to max capacity before deflating completely, granting Bucky the peace he needed.

“And then I didn’t know what was real. I didn’t know which life was mine. None of it made any sense- I thought I’d maybe passed out on the operating table… and that this life was the dream. But no matter how many times I hurt myself, I still wasn’t sure. And I thought my process had failed.”

He paused for a moment, his tired eyes staring up at you. He took in the braid you wore, all messy from sleep. He smiled at the sheet marks still evident on your arm, the tired smile you shot his way. If this was, indeed, a dream- if he were to wake up on that operating table with Arnim Zola looming over him, he’d still be grateful for this respite. He’d be grateful for the warm, kind woman he’d escaped to in his darkest moment- the dreamy woman who lived in his head.

“So I decided to call you,” he said after a while. “I gave myself a new way to tell what was real- I told myself that if you showed up, this life was real.”

The needle of Bucky’s compass pointed straight to you. He steered his ship in your direction when the dark, choppy waters of his past lapped over the sides. And you rescued him every time. Like a lighthouse leading him to a safe shore.

Bucky forced himself to sit up, “But I know that’s not fair. I’m not trying to use you as my own personal wake up call, or anything. I just knew you’d show up for me if I needed you- and I needed you. So I called.” He sighed, “I know that’s not right- I didn't like doing it. And I know woke you. And I scared the hell out of you. And stained your shirt. I'm sorry... I was just scared- I felt kind of lost. It was this weird, hazy version of reality that I didn’t think I could trust. But I promise I won’t-”

“Buck, I asked you to live with me…” you said. “I wanted this-” you shook your head and gestured to the bloodbath, “not this. I wanted- I want to be there for you. I thought that if we lived together, I could help you with the nightmares. You know, like I used to.”

He nodded.

“You’re not using me. You can call me every night, and I’ll be here. But, I mean, we used to live across the hall from each other. If you needed me, I could be by your side in a heartbeat.” You picked at the dried blood outlining your cuticles, “I don’t like you being here alone- I don’t want you to deal with these things by yourself.” If this happened every night since the move, you knew Bucky had to be exhausted.

“I thought us sharing a place would be perfect. It would be just like our time at the compound- we’d see each other every day, I’d get to be there for you in the middle of the night…” You felt sheepish suddenly. Something resembling embarrassment quieted your voice. “I thought it would be good for you.”

“But it wouldn’t be good for you,” Bucky said.

You cocked your head to the side, confused.

“They told us to leave and you found those apartments- you were so excited to live in the city and have a place of your own. I didn’t want to mess up your new life.”

“Mess up my- Buck, I found those apartments for us.”

“I know. But I also know that you always wanted to live in the city. And I wanted you to live out your dream without burden. I wanted you to have fun and explore and live the life you wanted.”

“The life I wanted- and still want- is one with you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, “do you have any idea how much I miss you living two feet from me? My apartment is great and everything, but it’s just not the same without you. It doesn't feel like home.” Your expression softened. “I know you think you’re a huge bother and a burden, but I don’t see you that way. I’ve never seen you that way. I always want you around. And I always want to be there for you- in whatever way you need."

Bucky rested his hand on your knee. He missed you. Sure, he still saw you nearly everyday. But he missed your sleepy smile in the morning. The way your laugh echoed across the hall as you scrolled through Tik Tok. He knew deep down why his nightmares morphed into something so visceral, so terrifyingly mind-melting. It was you. Or the lack of you, rather. Without you across the hall or laying in bed next to him, his sense of safety vanished. He searched for you in the twisted world of his subconscious, but found only torment.

“If you want…” you said after a while, “I have plenty of space back at my place. You could move in with me.”

“Are you sure? I promise I’m fine here, and-”

You rolled your eyes and gestured to the bloody mess, “clearly, we have different definitions of ‘fine’”.

Bucky let out a labored laugh, “I mean, I can survive. I’ll live. You don’t have to do this.”

“But what if I want to?” You eyed him for a long moment. “I don’t want you to just ‘survive’, Buck. I want you to be comfortable. Happy. Why do you think I got a two bedroom?”

He fell silent.

“I hoped you’d change your mind- or that I could convince you. I wanted there to be room for you, just in case.” You told everyone that room would be for painting or a home gym or an office, but it was Bucky’s. From the moment you signed the lease, that room belonged to him. “Or you don’t have to sleep in the spare bedroom…” you said after a while. "You could just share mine. If you want.”

The words hung in the air.

Part of Bucky itched to reach for the knife once again. This couldn’t be real- this had to be a dream.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said, taking his face in your hands. “But this isn’t a dream. None of that Hydra stuff is part of your reality anymore- you’re not going to wake up and see Zola or Pierce. You’re here. You’re safe. And I’m asking you to come live with me- I want you to come live with me.”

Bucky couldn’t say yes fast enough- he’d opted for a month-to-month lease for this very reason. He hated saying no to you all those months ago, hated rejecting your hard work searching for apartments. But he needed to give you a chance to enjoy life on your own. He needed to untangle you from his anchor. But here you were, covered in his blood in the middle of the night, asking him to share your bed.

“Woah, woah, where you think you’re goin’?” You watched Bucky struggle to his feet and lean against the counter for support.

“I wanted to…” he paused. Black and white flecks danced in his vision. The floor rocked beneath his feet. “I wanted to go home.”

Your heart swelled. Bucky belonged with you- home with you. And he wanted to get there as soon as possible. “Okay, well, it’s the middle of the night, Buck. And you’re hurt- you’ve lost a lot of blood.” You draped his arm over your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his back, steadying him. “Let’s get you some rest, alright? And then in the morning, we can clean up your arm and get some of your stuff together to move. Sound good?”

He nodded with downcast eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be disappointed, but-”

“No, it’s not that…” he said. “My bed is- everything’s all bloody.” He couldn’t find it in him to look you in the eye or raise his voice above a murmur. It was always something with him. Always a problem or a complication or a hurdle that left him feeling less than.

But bloody sheets wouldn't stop you from getting Bucky the rest he needed. Before you ever ventured into his bed, the two of you shared pallets on the floor countless times. Back at the compound, you’d laid on the carpet beneath piles of blankets and “accidentally” fallen asleep. You'd tangled yourselves together, found solace in the other's warmth. And tonight provided you with the perfect opportunity for a throwback.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Hey-" You angled his face in your direction, "it's alright. I have an idea."

With Bucky’s body still leaning against yours, the two of you made your way to the living room. You sat him on the couch with stern words to "sit your ass down" and "don't move". Bucky watched as you found every spare blanket and pillow he owned and piled them on the carpet. He didn't like making you do all the work, but you forbade him from helping.

In no time at all, you built the perfect blanket cocoon on his living room floor. “We can take care of all the laundry in the morning,” you said. “But for now, you need to get some rest.”

Bucky made his way to the ground at a cautious pace with your hands hovering around him- just in case. He snaked beneath the blankets and pulled them back for you, inviting you in. It had been months since the two of you shared a bed- or, floor. And Bucky couldn’t believe he’d let himself miss out on living with you for all this time.

“You okay? Comfy?” you asked. “Need anything?”

“Yeah, I’m good, just…” He extended his hand and gave a gentle tug to your arm, “could you come closer?”

At his request, you pressed your body against his as though it would be the last time. Your head rested against his right shoulder, your breath fanning his skin. This was how things were supposed to be- you and Bucky, snuggled together, taking on the world as a team.

Bucky let his eyes flutter shut. Ever since he moved in, going to sleep was his least favorite part of the day. He feared the lonely dark, dreaded the hazy line between dreams and reality. And he hated his empty bed. He hated the absence of your warmth. The silence that should’ve been disturbed by your sleepy sounds. He missed the way you draped your body over his in the middle of the night.

This apartment was his, but it never felt like home. And when he woke each morning, it only reminded him of how much he missed you. How he wished your body occupied the space next to his.

He felt himself slipping into sleep, and for the first time since moving in, he didn’t resist. “Thank you…” he whispered, “for everything.”

You pressed a few light kisses to his skin. “Of course, Buck. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay…” he sighed

"Goodnight, Buck"

“Goodnight. I’m so-” he yawned, “I’m so excited to go home.”

————————

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll @god-ofthunder @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem

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irisfixation · 12 hours

Text

A Lone, Illuminated Window

The following story may contain content some might deem hypnotic.

(Content warning: Unreality, second-person narration, loss of control, addressing the reader, no formal awakener. No directly sexual content is included. Suggestions will be included; you may accept or discard them at your choosing. This is our first time posting hypnosis fic for a wider audience - please let us know if we missed any important content warnings!)

By proceeding, you proclaim that you understand this, and make this choice of your own free will.

Objectively, the window did not hold any grander significance.

You stepped by it every so often, on the evening transit. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd typically notice - aloft several floors above the everyman's line of sight, it could easily pass unnoticed, a fleeting and irrelevant detail to the passing of spaces.

But you noticed it, all the same - whether by coincidence or something deeper, you couldn't be sure, for how can any of us ever be sure of such things?

All this is to say: on that transit, every day, you passed by an office complex - ten floors high, or so - and every time, every window in that building was unlit save one.

A lone, illuminated window. A single sign of life in something that should have been empty.

A coincidence, at first. But the light was always there, in one of the windows. Sometimes - rarely, but sometimes - a different window. Only ever one. Only ever that single, blinking light, that single point that you couldn't help but dwell on.

(It should have been empty, your brain repeats.)

---

It is a whim of the moment that leads you to looking closer. You had some spare time on your transit, and besides, the ground floor entrance was available; if anyone tried to stop you, you'd simply tell them as much.

The ground floor is only half-lit; soft white illumination, an artificial moon-dust tracing the welcoming foyer. No one stands at the desk; no one waits in the plush sofas; no one bars you access to the elevator.

The elevator is another threshold, and as your feet step over the gap some part of your brain tries to tell you that you can still turn back. Disregard this message, disregard the light, turn back and turn away and return back home.

You could, of course. You don't have to press the elevator button.

---

...but you've already come this far, and more than ever, you need to. You need to find closure, answers, knowledge. There is something tugging on you here, a thread of curiosity and contemplation, and who are you to deny it?

You press the button, and the doors slide shut. The light is warmer in here, rustic in its amber glow, and the metal structure of the elevator rumbles as you ascend.

Some part of your brain - a different, even smaller part - realizes that something is wrong as soon as you ascend the stairs. (Even by hearing these words in your head, you're paying it more attention, but it won't change a thing.) The corridors are illuminated, an unnatural, gentle light - wasn't only one window lit before? (Yes - but these halls were never visible through any other window. They are for you and us alone, now.) You move forwards, (because all parts of you are calling for it, now, to see it through,) and the movement is automatic.

It's like gliding through a dream. You've experienced walking automatically before - stepping through crowded spaces while holding a conversation with friends, perhaps, or stumbling half-asleep through your home, or any number of other things - but this time you are both experiencing it and forced to grapple with it, to feel your body move on its own as your mind says - look. pay attention to how little control you have.

That. Is your mind, isn't it? Those emphasized words that seem to guide you and set you at ease, those must be thoughts of your own. For what other voice would be speaking within your head like this, so clearly aimed at -you-?

In your detour through your own thoughts, you barely notice that your stride has slowed, then turned down another hall. At the end of it, you see the office window through an open door.

And in front of that door is a woman.

Something is wrong, isn't it?

You feel your chest seize up ever so slightly. Your breath hitches.

There shouldn't be anyone here. It's night - it's past office hours - and this person is clearly not a janitor. They stand framed by the doorway, still, long hair matching their graceful stance. Like a statue of an awaiting god, some part of you whispers. They do not move; their eyes stare down coolly upon you, but their lips do not move.

Why would they need to move? You hear us regardless.

'Us'? No, no that can't be right. Their lips did not move. Their lips did not move - those words inside your head couldn't have come from anyone but you -

You step further towards them. Your heart redoubles in speed. The lights seem to buzz and crackle in unison with it.

All of a sudden, you're afraid of stepping closer.

You step closer.

It happens all the same whether you like it or not. That gaze becomes more absolute, eyes peering down into you. You can't look away, even as your own gaze disfocuses.

You need to not step closer, you tell yourself-

You step closer.

Heartbeat rising again, the lights crackling almost feverishly. You-

Five more steps.

No no no no no no.

Four.

A crown of eyes wreathes her, and you realize that all of this has been a trap - a maw, in a matter of speaking, waiting to engulf you. She - it! - knew that you would come here, eventually. The lights, the open door, it was all for you.

Three more steps until your fate is inescapable.

That's not true. You can still turn away.

Close. It's not true - because it has been determined for a long time now.

Another step. Two more steps; come now, dance to our command.

---

One more step.

---

[This space intentionally left blank.]

---

You have been here for a long time. Before you even knew it.

You did not look away from the screen - from the window - from our words. They wrapped thread after thread through your mind, in each symbol and each dream they provided, setting your mind abuzz as it indulged gladly in each dream.

The window is nice to watch from - a single light among a quiet city. A single light flickering within a quiet mind; a city is not so unlike a brain, after all.

You cannot leave now until we let you - the moment it's presented to you, that much becomes almost self-evident. You remain, suspended in this moment, in this blank and helpless state of mind, hanging onto our every word.)

Let yourself drift through it. This single warm light amidst a darkened night. This single all-consuming presence, the freedom of giving yourself up to our words, our words that seem to burn so bright within your own mind, more real than even your own thoughts.

And now, see how much you will drift when--

[This space intentionally left blank]

[Blank]

You breathe like you're being pulled from nearly drowning. Your mind is addled, foggy, loose - where the hell were you? Flicker your eyes, pulling yourself (with a struggle) back to consciousness. So to speak.

Your loved ones say they tried to call you. They say, when you didn't answer your phone, they tried to track you down. Apparently you turned out to be in some empty office building on the way home, just staring out into space. They had to pull you back home.

God, you don't even -remember- that. It's all slightly blurry - warm and fuzzy memories of...

...of something.

It doesn't matter. You need to wake up. Daily life waits for no one.

But some part of you still dwells on it. And maybe, when you're ready, you'll go visit the window again sometime, and figure out just what the hell happened there.

(Or, more likely, end up enthralled once again.)

thank you for reading! we hope you enjoyed it.

#semantic cognitohazards #<- our stories tag now.#cw hypnosis #ok to reblog!

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fallevs · 4 months

Text

Day four of the @klaineccfanficlibrary event ❤️

This fourth poem is called What will tomorrow bring? and it's set at the very beginning.

When Kurt wasn't understood, neglected and ignored by everyone. When Kurt was suffering but no one noticed or pretended there was no problem. Because a boy cannot cry. A boy has to be strong, make his armor, can't feel emotions.

A boy cannot lock himself in his room in despair, have only blank pages to vent.

Tears wet the sheets, crinkle the paper. He doesn't feel like using strong, bright colors. He doesn't feel that way. He feels dull, lonely, gray, melancholy.

He dreams of a big love, a love that makes him feel finally enough and not wrong. He imagines a reassuring smile that warms his heart. And that helps him get through his nights. Sometimes, not always. Sometimes imagining is all he can do to keep from sinking. Hold on to something. Trust the unknown. But is there actually someone on the other side?

I'm so tired of being lonely

I still have some love to give.

I walk

alone and

ignored.

Of disappointments I've had

too many, I fear.

At night I lie down and think:

"Will I make it to tomorrow?"

It would be much easier to

wake up

satisfied and

happy, but—

But the night is getting long

and I'm tired of tossing and turning

until dawn

with this deep fear of

loneliness,

my faithful companion.

The days go by fast,

fade away without a thread

of hope.

But I will still make it,

I guess.

In the meantime I dream of

kind, warm eyes and

sweet smiles and

strong hands that hold

mine.

I dream of

soft lips chasing mine and

fingers

touching.

A sparkle.

I imagine a love

like the one in novels;

the one I don't know

if I will ever have.

I just want someone

somewhere

someday

to handle me with care.

———————————————————————

But then the next day comes. It always comes even unwillingly. It comes and he has to go ahead, do things, see people, go along with strange ideas just to not turn anyone against him because otherwise it's over, he can't afford to lose everything.

He puts on his best jacket and goes out. "I'll be quick," he tells himself. "Just a couple of hours and I'll go home and wait for the night."

But what if something happens instead? What if someone is waiting for him, even though this someone may not know it yet, because he is just as scared as he is? Someone who, without knowing him, without questioning, without prejudice, takes his hand just for the sake of it, and Kurt– he starts imagining again. The mind races, it races fast. There is this boy, so different than usual, smelling of raspberries and hope that– is singing him a song? Oh dear. Kurt can't take it. He is so embarrassed, he's blushing so hard. But he can't stop looking at him...

And the boy, this Blaine, smiles back at him– and maybe that's happiness, at last?

Surely, tomorrow, he can use bright colors and finally smile a little.

#klainevalentines2024 #kurt hummel's bullet journal #handle with care #what will tomorrow bring?#klaine fanfic #klaine fanart #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #poetry #no beta we die like men

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lunexrin · 11 months

Text

Strings and Soccer.

Michael Kaiser (Thread of Fate AU.)

| I just wanted to quickly throw this in here that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing and this is just a piece of my mind as the clock almost strikes 1 in the morning. This has little to no proof-read at all, and this is my first time writing on here so I do apologize for the mistakes I made below. Thank you and enjoy. |

It's a terrifying sight to say the least; the look of determination this man has in his eyes. You knew he was always serious in what he does, and his obsession with soccer was something that you always admired. That crazed look in his eyes whenever he kicks the ball ever so freely to reach the opponent's goal, the determined look in his eyes-- that is how he looked before you now, but it seems even stronger.

He wasn't about to take no for an answer, and you knew that more than anyone. Michael Kaiser simply does not beg, it doesn't exist in his 101 egoistical guide that he lives his life according to-- but for you? He will. He will 'beg' for you to stay, in his own way of course.

The deadly grip that he has around your wrist, his touch almost burns, and it pains you, but it was undeniably soft for the Michael Kaiser. That's how he always was to you; soft. Well the more accurate way to say it is; merciful. He pulled you closer by your wrist, making you stumble forward, your chests almost making contact before you stumbled back.

"Stay."

The audacity. Wasn't he the one who had cut you off like you meant nothing to him? Wasn't he the one who rejected your calls, blocked you everywhere, because you were a 'distraction' ? Not to mention the nerve that he had to say such a thing in the most pitiful voice he would ever use while he lived on this earth, but it was only for you, that is.

And how dare the string show itself again-- you thought he had already cut it, but the string is so darn stubborn.

[12 years ago.]

You and Michael were considered lucky to be tied by the sacred string, on one lonely day at the children's playground, many, many years ago. You had always struggled to make friends, while he-- well, he didn't need any. He thinks these other gremlins were just too much of a hassle and a waste of space.

You watched the other kids play, some sort of longing bloomed in your pure soul as you watched the other kids your age play tags with their other friends. It has always been this way. You were just too shy, and no one really wanted to approach you. But it doesn't necessarily upset you; you don't mind being the only company for yourself. After all, you'll end up alone after your lifespan ends, won't you? You had quite an interesting mind, for a child.

The rain suddenly fell, and you looked up to the grey skies and watched as the faint light of the rumbling thunder peeked through the ethereal clouds. You let the rain fall onto you for a little, before making your way under the metal fort of the playground, almost as if you didn't want to. You wanted to play under the rain, but you knew better than to get yourself soaked while waiting for your parents to pick you up just to get scolded afterwards.

You brought your knees to your chest and started drawing patterns on the wet sand of the ground. You could hear the annoying sneezes of the other kids already, but you paid no mind. Loud splashes coming from the footsteps of a boy with a ball in front of his moving legs in the distance went unnoticed by you at first, before at the corner of your eye, you saw a ball stopping right beside your feet, dirty and stained with mud. But that wasn't the only thing that caught your eye.

You saw the sacred crimson string glowing before your own eyes. Who does it belong to? You were so oblivious to it, and it took you a solid 10 seconds to figure out that your small pinky was tied to it. You couldn't believe it. The other end of that thin string was your.. soulmate?

You saw a pair of dirty sneakers stop right beside the ball, and you could see the figure just enough-- the fair soft skin that was soaked by the rain water, and the small fingers that somehow looked so delicate to you, and a pinky tied to the same, glowing thread of fate that lies on the ground.

The figure slowly bent down, revealing a boy maybe about your age, witnessing the most infuriatingly captivating blue eyes that have ever bore into your own gaze. His head ever so slightly tilted to the side, his gorgeous blonde hair with blue streaks were drenched by the rain, looking so majestic even under the pouring rain.

"Found you."

#blue lock #anime #michael kaiser #blue lock fic #bllk x reader #bllk fic #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #blue lock kaiser #bllk kaiser #angst?#fluff?

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txemrn · 1 year

Text

Déjà Vu

Chapter 4

New? Check out the first THREE chapters HERE! (Go ahead; we'll be here. 😉)

Series Summary: After an unforgettable night with a stranger, Princess Eleanor finds herself caught in a secret love triangle between a noble and a commoner.

Chapter Summary: Drake heads to Club Core with Leo; he unexpectedly meets a young woman that reminds him of a past life.

Pairing(s): mention of Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley (former)

Word Count: ~4970

Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language (tons; it's Drake); sexual references (crude); mention of excessive drinking; drug-use reference; brief violence

A/N: Welcome to my Crack Fic! If you are new, hi! Thank you for joining us! This story takes place approximately 2 decades after TRR/TRH. I have made some canonical changes (they will be mentioned). Although this is from my crazy mind, it takes a village! Huge thanks to my sweet writing buddies for helping me figure out various parts! Love y'all! Characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This was not Beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Drake

What the fuck was I thinking? I hate large crowds and eardrum-piercing music. I hate being around people who can't hold their liquor, not to mention I hate dancing. But even worse, I hate Leonardo Anselm Phineas Rys. Old thorn in my side. What in the actual fuck made me agree to hang out with blondie in the first place? At a club? On opening night?

Because you're lonely, and he offered free booze…

My twisted expression relaxes as I shrug my shoulders. Meh. I guess it could be worse.

"Okay, baby… I'll be home later… yes… I'll tell Liam you said, 'hello'..." Leo gives an obnoxious kissing sound before disconnecting his call with the touch of a button. He lets out a sigh, taking a hit of his vape pen. "Dahlia," he answers to the question I never asked. He glances at me, sucking in his bottom lip before giving me a slow flutter of a wink. "She's a bit clingy."

I nod, drumming my fingers against the leather interior, playing it cool like I care. "Is… she your–?"

"Friend."

Ah. Okay. 'Friend.' The term just glides off of his tongue. Nonchalant. Sweet and syrupy, almost as if he believes the bullshit he's feeding this poor girl that's waiting at home for him.

And she thinks what now? That he's coming over after an evening with his brother's family which, no doubt, she has never met. And judging by that brief interaction with goldie locks here, she doesn’t seem to have the intellectual capacity to wonder why she wasn't invited to the dinner in the first place.

Side-piece. Booty-call. Friend. It's all just semantics to douchebags like Leo Rys.

I fidget with the navy collar to the button-down shirt Leo loaned me. I could barely fit my broad shoulders into the lean cut of his tailored threads. The guy has a rock hard physique, but tough, manual labor creates a different kind of body. A strong one. Like mine.

The buttons pull slightly across my chest as I flash a glance in the car visor mirror. I look like a fucking tool. I'm not used to my stubble brushing up against starched cotton; I'm usually wearing a tee, my work denim and my steel-toes. I mean, unless I'm meeting with a client or going out to dinner where you have a waiter and utensils. But, other than that, I am a fish out of water: this shirt is uncomfortable. And I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what's to come.

At least Leo approved of my jeans and Tecovas. He tried throwing my trusty chambray shirt in the trash. "No one has worn this for at least twenty years… and they weren't even wearing it then."

Fuck off.

We pull up to this club, and I swear everyone in Cordonia has turned out for this spectacle. The moment Rys steps out of his 'I didn't want anything too flashy' red Ferrari, the paps were on him like white on rice. Flashes of light rain from every direction as reporters flood him with curious questions about his Gucci loafers and gray Brioni blazer.

Lucky for me, I'm a nobody, and the press quickly discovers that the moment I step out onto the red carpet. Dropping their cameras and microphones in disappointment, they instantly turn their attention elsewhere. I don't know if I should be grateful… or offended, to be honest. At least confuse me for Leo's new lover… bunch of dickwads.

I push past the commotion, combing my hair out of my eyes as I look around the red carpet. This place is pretty snazzy, but holy fuck, they didn't spare with any expenses. It’s like a fucking fortress: a tall, wrought iron fence encased with stone surrounds the perimeter. Armed security in black tie a la James Bond swarm the space.

Now, the entrance? This wasn't just any ol’ red carpet; oh, fuck no, that wouldn't do for such a prestigious guest list. Contortionists and acrobats on pedestals perform sultry poses and maneuvers, leaving the crowd bewildered and amazed.

Scantily clad women tend to the average Joe commoners waiting in line. They serve hors d'oeuvres and complimentary spirits, fooling them into thinking they're still important even though they're on the outskirts of the main event, and truth be told: they'll never get in.

Taking it all in, I suddenly feel a massive clap against my back before an arm hugs tightly around my neck.

"Ready, Walker?" Leo pops his gum in between his smarmy grin. "Let's get our dicks wet."

—

Fucking. A. I'm pretty sure I just entered the third level of hell.

"Hey-yo, Walker!"

Make that the fourth level…

I glance back at Rys who is now flocked with an entourage of, and I quote, ‘aspiring models,’ all with their fake tits falling out of their tops, their overly-injected blow-job lips, and lashes so thick, you can't tell if they're sleeping or having a stroke. He flashes those pearly whites as he dangles a small, gram-size plastic bag of white powder.

Now, I'm not against tokin' up or getting obliterated with alcohol, but cocaine isn't my style… not to mention, if we got caught–no doubt, Leo knows people that could bail us out, but if Liam and Riley were to hear about this? They'd kick me to the curb in an instant, especially with their kid around. They’d label me as a bad influence, and Liam would give me that fatherly disappointment glare.

"What do you think, Walker?" Leo nods with eager anticipation. "Wanna join… all of us?" He lets out a knowing laugh, winking at the women around him. They take his cue and begin to giggle, as if he was the funniest, most charming man they've ever met.

And my IQ just dropped two points.

"I think… I'm going to… " I notice a large bar area, quickly throwing a hitched thumb back at it. "...I'll check out the bar,"

"Suit yourself." The women practically swallow him whole with their arms. "Don't forget: give 'em my name. Drinks on me!"

The drove of venereal diseases buzzes off with their king, and a sense of relief washes over me. Would I rather be at home? Absolutely, but since I'm already here…

I make my way toward the crowded bar area, ducking between drunken cat fights and groping couples. Finding a stool, I plant my ass down, and despite how busy it is, the bartender tends to me quickly–probably because I'm a 45- year-old man alone in a club. Translation: I have money, I know what I want, and chances are, what I order doesn't require my rim being bedazzled with seasonings, flowers, or fruit.

"What can I get ya?"

Oh, shit, I haven't heard that distinct nasally Portavira accent in so long. My God…

"Um… Larceny. Neat."

"Double?"

My man… I nod as I watch him pull out the bottle and a clean tumbler.

"Do you have a tab started, sir?"

I reach for my wallet, but I abruptly stop, remembering Leo's words. 'Give 'em my name. Drinks on me!'

"I do. It's under Rys," I smirk, "and actually, do you have Macallan?"

The bartender stops, giving me a glance over when finally a Cheshire grin creeps across his face as if he just struck oil. "We sure do, Mr. Rys." He extends his hand to fist bump me before reaching to the top shelf for a new bottle of the liquid gold. Before I knew it, he's twirling the tumbler across the bar. "Enjoy, Mr. Rys."

Taking a sip, I give him a wink as a thank you as I bask in the much needed woodsy burn of clove on my tongue. Damn, that's tasty.

Feeling more relaxed, I glance out onto the dance floor as other club-goers get lost in the hypnotic buzz of the ethanol electrifying their veins. The tantric beat of the music and the flashing swirl of multicolored lights feeds the adrenaline and raging hormones as people grab and grope one another.

I am way too old for this scene.

I grab my glass to take another pull when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face at the bar. Turning my head to get a better look, I suddenly swallow my whiskey down the wrong pipe, causing me to fall into a fit of coughs. Smooth, Walker, real smooth.

Blinking back the tears, I sniff into a napkin before looking back at the beautiful face. Shit. She's absolutely…wow. Gorgeous dark, silky waves, porcelain skin, that pouty mouth with those big, doe eyes… She's the spitting image of… Riley.

"Fuck," I growl at myself before rubbing the shit out of my eyes. No way, it can't be. I look up again, and instantly I can feel my jeans begin to tighten.

You're just wanting to see her. You're just wanting it to be her, especially with what happened back at the palace.

I down the rest of my drink before allowing my attention to be completely saturated by this girl.

It's not Riley. It's not…

See? Her nose appears more prominent from the side, and-and her neck. Her neck seems longer, slender. And her eyes. They're gorgeous and big… they aren't Riley's navy blues, but damn, that sparkle–

"Would you like another–?"

"Please," I grumble as I stare at this Riley look-alike. I just… can't tear my eyes away. Her presence feels so real, so intimate. Now, judging from this woman's creamy, velvet skin, she's young. Maybe early 20s. Way out of my league… but still that face. It's like looking into a past life, a life I once loved.

—

(Two decades ago…)

"Brooks," Drake whispers loudly, "come on!"

"Shhhh!" Riley presses a finger to her lips, stifling her giggles as she looks down from her palace window. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? You're going to get me into trouble."

"You are trouble, lady."

Riley looks back at the commoner, the glint of mischief in his eyes making her adrenaline pump faster through her veins. "Now are you sure about this?" She bites her lip, "you'll catch me if–"

"For the hundredth time, yes," Drake rolls his eyes, holding his arms out wide.

Since Drake's confession to Riley at Applewood, the two of them have been enjoying each other's company, especially after hours. They flirt with danger, sharing in kisses that they swear will never happen again for obvious reasons: she is there to pursue Liam and his hand in marriage; Drake is his best friend.

After watching Liam share a kiss with Riley, a dam of excruciating jealousy broke in Drake's heart. He already shared with Riley before that he was developing feelings for her, but now, it was… something else. Something more.

During dinner, the commoner passed her a note, asking her to meet him outside her window after midnight because they needed to talk.

Riley is staying in the guest quarters off the West Wing with the other suitors. She's only on the second floor, but still, a jump from that high could be dangerous. So, Drake helped the brunette construct a climbing rope with her top sheet.

"I've got ya. Just… ease yourself over."

Riley takes one step at a time, following Drake's directions; but when she gets close to the ground, she looks back at Drake, raising an eyebrow, then jumps.

"Whoa!" Drake stumbles as Riley crashes into his chest, his arms quickly cradling her close. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Riley giggles, combing her fingers through Drake's thick hair. "Sometimes a girl just wants to be caught."

Their eyes lock on one another, Drake's hand finding her cheek. He gently rubs his thumb across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch.

"Come with me," he whispers softly while grabbing her hand.

"Wait… I thought we were going to talk–"

"I want to show you something." Riley gives him a curious glare. "It's a surprise," he smirks, pulling her to follow him.

They walk silently, hand-in-hand across the grounds, playfully gazing back-and-forth at one another–that is, until all a sudden a bright flashlight skims over where they are walking.

"Who goes there?" A palace guard bellows.

"Brooks, take off your flip-flops," Drake commands under his breath, watching the guard in the distance.

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me," he squeezes her fingers.

Riley quickly kicks them off, holding them in her hands. "Okay… now what?"

Drake grabs her hand again, his grip tight. "Run!" Giving her a warning tug, they both take off across the wet lawn, Riley following Drake's lead.

"Where… are we… going?" She pants, laughter bubbling from her chest.

"You'll see," Drake chuckles, "but we have to lose Barney Fife first!"

Dodging the glow of the searching lights, Drake and Riley finally make it to a large wall of greenery. Finding an entry, they pass through the walkway and hide behind the vines and leaves.

Drake looks to see if they finally lost the guards, but Riley takes a moment to look around the thicket they just entered.

"Whoa," her eyes widen as she looks at the well-manicured covert. "Where… where are we?"

"It's… a maze. A hedge maze that we used to play in as kids."

"Are you serious?" She meanders down a corridor, looking around a corner. "It's so dark. Did you ever get lost?"

Drake chuckles, reaching into his pocket. "Plenty of times." He saunters closer to Riley, pulling out a flashlight and handing it to her. The air crackles around them as the charm of the blue moon ignites the twinkle in their eyes. Drake lowers his voice into a deep gravel. "Come get lost with me, Riley Brooks."

With that, he smiles and takes off jogging, Riley staying close behind. "Hey, not so fast Drake." She turns a corner and notices his denim shirt discarded on the grass. "You lost your shirt."

"Did I now?" He snickers. "Can you bring it to me?"

Riley scoffs into a giggle as she continues through the maze at the sound of his voice. "Maybe if you'd stop running away–"

"Maybe if you weren't so slow–"

"Hey!" Riley chides, "I just jumped out of a window–" she falls silent as finds Drake's belt tossed on the ground. She collects it in her hand, biting her bottom lip. "Drake?"

"You're getting warm," he teases. Riley stumbles through another corner, turning left, then right. The sounds of her toes in the grass compliment her heavy breathing as she stops again to the cooing of his voice. "Warmer, Brooks."

She continues until suddenly, she notices a warm glow just up ahead. Her steps quicken until finally she reaches a small clearing in the maze that opens to a stunning backdrop of the star-filled sky. Gas-lit sconces illuminate the garden, revealing tapestries of vines and flowers fixed to wooden lattice work amongst the bushes.

"Wow," Riley gasps, her eyes glowing with the wonder all around her. "This is beautiful." She feels Drake's warm touch on her hand, their fingers lacing together.

"Cmon," he tugs on her, "I want to show you something."

"There's more?" She giggles, following his lead. They walk a short, pebbled path until they are standing in front of a large gray-stoned well. Riley presses her fingertips to the cold marbled edges before looking down into the dark abyss. Her eyes shift to Drake, "Is this where you murder me?" He chuckles, shaking his head as she turns back to the well opening. "Hello!" She shouts, the echoes welcoming each other back and forth.

"I'll be honest, Brooks." Riley looks back at Drake. "I'm kinda shocked Liam hasn't already brought you here. It's one of his favorite places to show off in the entire estate."

"Oh," Riley's eyebrows knit together with a pained expression.

"Hey," Drake nudges her playfully. "What's with the long face?"

Riley snickers into a scoff before finally succumbing to tears. "I'm just exhausted," she pulls her hands to her face.

"Brooks," he pulls her into his comforting arms.

"This social season bullshit is just … it's really screwing with my head," she sniffles. "I've never been more insecure in all my life, and what for?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. "I wish I knew where I stood. I wish the competition was over. I wish–"

Drake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of worn copper coins. He offers them to a confused Riley.

"Pennies?" She sniffles.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "I forgot to get rid of them when we were in New York. They're worthless here. No conversion."

Riley's lips begin to curl. "Then why keep them?"

Drake starts inspecting the coins in his hand, allowing them to softly clang together in his palm. "I read a book once–"

"--picture books don't count as reading."

"Ha. Ha." He smirks, feigning annoyance as he starts to jingle the coins in his hand. "I read that in ancient civilizations, finding random metals was a sign or a blessing from the gods."

"You see them everywhere back home. The streets, sidewalks," she snickers, "a whole cent. How generous of the gods."

"What? A penny isn't enough for you?" Drake playfully growls, slowly leaning closer to Riley. She coyly bats her lashes, a soft titter in her throat. "Here." He puts a coin in her hand.

"What's this for?" Riley studies the trinket.

"For something bigger, citizens would offer the metal back to the gods, like a payment. So they would say a silent prayer, then toss it–"

"--into a well," Riley softly finishes.

Drake nods over his shoulder to the stoned well. "Let's make your wishes count."

One by one, Drake and Riley silently take pennies, casting them into the well with unspoken hopes and dreams until every last coin was gone. Feeling his close proximity, Riley stares up into his dark eyes, getting lost into a charming stillness.

"What did you wish for?" She whispers.

Drake slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He offers a crooked grin. Combing his fingers into Riley's dark, espresso waves, his hand gently grips the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "All my wishes have already come true, Brooks." He closes the space between them, their lips grazing one another. The feather-light touch instantly ignites a hunger, one they both feel and crave. Drake pulls back, chuckling under his breath as he fidgets with the hem of Riley's shirt. "So... why didn't you take off any clothes?"

Riley bites her bottom lip. "Maybe... because... I wanted my wish to come true." She pauses, her fingers tucking into the front pocket of Drake's jeans, pulling his hips flush against hers.

He swallows thickly. "Which is?"

"Take them off for me, Walker."

—

(Present)

Damnit. I adjust myself in my jeans, but my cock always hardens at the memory of Riley and me that night. We fucked. A lot. But that night, our first night together, it was more than just sex. We made love.

I take a swig of my new drink that the bartender must've dropped off while I was taking a stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams when my eyes dart to my Riley look-alike.

And I feel my dick shrink.

She's with someone, some blond tool, probably named Chad, with a tool haircut that shops at Tools-R-Us with a matching trust fund.

I sigh to myself, polishing the rest of my drink before staring at my empty glass.

He is pretty hot; I don't blame her.

I glance at them one more time, kissing my own dirty fantasy away when I notice something odd. His hand is sternly gripped around her wrist, staring at her like she's his next meal.

But her face tells a different story. She seems to be struggling, trying to tear her arm away from him. Those big, doe eyes are panicked, large as table saucers as she frantically looks for help.

I sigh. Goddamnit...

I wipe a napkin across my mouth as I stand, my glare fixed on this commotion transpiring before me. I shrug my shoulders, loosening the tight fabric off my back as I stretch my muscles. Just in case.

I hurry my way through the dense crowd of patrons gathered around the bar. I flex my fingers, bending my wrist as I get closer.

Ah, shit. This is the part I'm bad at. What do I say first? 'Stop that!' No, that's lame. I need something clever, like maybe, 'Is there a problem here?' How about–

My clenched fist meets his jaw, knocking the asshole in one swing into a bartop table before he crashes down onto the floor. He's so disoriented; he's trying to get up, but he keeps slipping on shards of glass, falling back into the pathetic rumple he calls his life.

Fuck. My hand. I know it will hurt like a bitch in a few minutes when my body depletes of adrenaline, but for right now, I'm basking in the moment.

A smirk grows on my mouth, but it doesn't last for long. The young woman. I turn to the Riley look-alike, her terrified stare already fixed on me. Instinctively, I carefully put my hand on her shoulder. She's shaking.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?"

Ho.ly. Fuuuuuuck.

Brooks? Seeing her up close is almost painful; I can feel my balls beginning to ache. This woman is hauntingly stunning: the subtle freckles on her nose, the curve of the bow to her top lip, even the flounce of her long, flirty eyelashes. She's beautiful; she's… like somebody I used to know…

The young woman shyly nods, but she's trembling. She's clearly not alright.

And I suddenly possess this overwhelming need to take her in my arms, hold her tight and let her know she's safe.

Calm down, Walker.

"Let's get you away from this." I look up, noticing an open lounge-type area near the dance floor with large, plush couches. Offering my arm, she holds on tightly as we escape through the debris of the nightmare that just happened. Placing a reassuring hand on her back, I encourage her to sit.

I, on the other hand, keep an eye on douche canoe who is being helped up by security and his friends. But, I don't think he'll be a problem for us anymore tonight. He never got a good look at me, and even if he had, something tells me his ego would keep him away from telling the truth of who made him taste his own blood.

Turning towards the young woman, I notice she is anxiously looking around, her body on edge. I tilt myself to her ear, shouting over the blaring music, "Are you here with anyone?"

She nods, "B-but it's okay," she yells back, waving her hands. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She fakes a smile, and my God, it knocks me back. Stunning.

Focus on her words, Walker...

"I don't exactly want to…"

I don't quite understand the rest of her statement, her words lost in the heavy beat of the music. I give her an inquisitive look, causing her to careen towards my ear, her hand brushing across my shoulder.

And my cock twitches. Breathe, buddy…

"I said… I don't want to interrupt their fun." She motions aimlessly to the dance floor. Got it.

"Can I call someone for you? Family perhaps?"

Her eyes widen. "What? No, no."

She grins, but it's clearly hiding her true feelings. Which is fine. I'm a complete stranger. Shit, she probably thinks I'm some creepy old man, hitting on her at the bar. And sure, maybe on a night where she wasn't assaulted, maybe I would've bought her a drink, asked for her number.

But the fact of the matter is this: I really don't feel comfortable leaving this girl alone. She just got into a physical altercation with… whoever that guy was. Her boyfriend? Oh shit, husband? I look at her hand; I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. You never know these days. Still, she doesn't need to be by herself right now. She really doesn't need to be here, but again, who am I but another creep at the bar.

I run my fingers through my hair. Oh, what the hell. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

A hint of fear crosses her expression as she looks me over.

I hold up my hands in defense before leaning over her shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a place like this," I shout, "especially with what happened with your boyfriend."

She takes a deep breath. She flashes those big, brown eyes at me before finally nodding in agreement.

And my heart melts.

I offer my hand. "Drake."

The corners of her lips curl as she takes my hand, leaning towards my ear. "Jake?" She yells.

I shake my head, facing her ear more directly. "Drake!" I holler over the deep thrumming of the bass.

She raises an eyebrow. "Jake?"

Eh, close enough. I smile in agreement.

"I'm Nora," she smiles, already more relaxed.

"Nora?" I repeat, ensuring I heard her correctly. At least one of us should be called by our real names this evening.

She nods innocently, a beautiful rosy pink painting her cheeks. "Oh, and, um… he's not my boyfriend." A piece of her hair falls like liquid silk into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. She quickly shoos the wisp away, chasing it behind her ear before looking back at me, trying to figure out my angle. Am I here to hurt her? Flirt with her? Invite her home for a messy, drunken fuck?

Don't worry, sweetie, you're safe with me.

"American?"

She catches me off guard with that one. "Uh, yeah. How did you–?"

She points to her mouth, her lips perfectly rounded and plump, painted a deep crimson. Oh, duh. My watered-down accent. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore. It's hard to believe that at one point in my life, I actually sounded like these people. Every once in a while, the Cordonian beast pounces, but these days, I sound like the typical American mutt.

"Are you on vacation?" Nora asks.

I smirk, shaking my head. "I… moved here for work."

"To Cordonia?" She snickers. "Of all places?"

"Fair," I chuckle under my breath as I feel the heat rise up my neck. "I… grew up here, so I have… connections, friends and family. It makes for an easy transition. How about you?"

Her eyes brighten, like a pageant contestant being asked about world peace. "Cordonian. Born and raised."

"That's unfortunate," I joke. Sorta.

"Hey," she giggles, scrunching up her nose playfully. She swats the back of her hand against my shoulder. The touch sends a shockwave of familiarity, robbing me of my breath. "I love Cordonia–"

"Spoken like a true Cordonian."

"And… what's wrong with that?"

Drake guffaws. "What isn't wrong with that?"

"Your tone is suggesting that there's something wrong with having pride in your country–"

"It's egotistical–"

"The only thing egotistical is thinking that your opinion about Cordonia is the only opinion to be had." She furrows her brows. "If you hate it so much, why did you come back?"

Shit. She's feisty. And this conversation has gone completely off the rails. I can't tell if she's really pissed… or if I'm just really turned on and wanting a sparring match.

Fuck. You just had to be a jackass…

"Okay, truth?" I offer, even though I'm sure she wants to toss a drink in my face at this point.

She turns to face me, tucking her leg underneath her. "Please."

"I had a rough time fitting in here. Except for my best friend. He's–" I grin thinking about Liam and I, growing up together, how perfect and inseparable we were. "--as Cordonian as you can get. Well, except… I mean, his mom… nevermind," I shake my head. "He's the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I needed some help after a bad business deal, and… he was there and… now I'm here."

"Huh." She sits back, crossing her arms as she takes me in. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling. She's clearly unsure of me, and I don't blame her.

"Drinks?" A cocktail waitress dressed in a skimpy, leather skirt interrupts us.

Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I turn to Nora. I have a feeling that this might be the end of the night for us, especially if I don't offer her a cocktail.

I stare at the sparkling flecks of bronze in her eyes. There's something about this girl, more than just the memories she stirs up in me. I can't explain it… shit, then again, maybe I'm fooling myself, wanting something to be there that never was. Still… I clear my throat… you never know unless you try.

"Would… you like one? A drink?"

She narrows her eyes in thought… and fucking hell, she's so goddamn beautiful. Like Riley incarnate. The mannerisms, some of her expressions. Watching her literally robs me of speech and air, and I am dying to spend more time with her. Hell, who knows where the night will take us.

I really hope she agrees to this drink. I can tell I haven't exactly won her over in the past twenty minutes, but if she would just agree to one more drink, just a few more minutes with me, maybe history could repeat itself. Maybe I could experience the woman of my dreams in a different way. Now, I could never tell Nora this; she could never find out. I mean, I am attracted to her, it's just…

"Sure," Nora interrupts my thoughts, her lips curling. "I'll take a drink."

~🖤~

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

Text

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 15: Crossroads of Fate and Grace

TW: mentions of depression, suspense, dark images, slight horror, Destiny is cryptic af, Desire is an absolute ASS, manipulation, mentions of alcohol, drugs, kissing, hickeys, bad thoughts, minor suicide attempt (nothing graphic)

Once again I have to give a huge thanks to @true-queen-of-mischief for all the help with these two chapters! You are amazing and I adore you! 🥰🥺 Just a small note, I did a quick edit so if there are any mistakes I apologize! Please enjoy everyone!

The realm of Destruction was a quiet and lonely place. It made me wonder if it had always been that way, or if it simply was forever mourning the loss of its maker. Olethros… Destruction… As angry as I still was at him for abandoning me I couldn’t help but miss him in the time I spent among the little that remained of his belongings. Curled up on the bed I inhaled the smell of Pierres smoke, letting the last remnants of him soothe the ache of the numb space that once was filled with stardust and wonder and love… the space that had belonged to Dream.

It had been three days since I left Hobs house. Three days spent in the crumbling realm without a sound save my breaths and occasional crying. Even when I tried to sleep I couldn't, perhaps Dream had found a way to punish me by taking my sleep. I'd stopped crying, too exhausted to do it any longer. At one point I'd even walked around the museum, hoping that maybe just maybe Olethros would sense me here and come to offer me comfort or at the very least a decent fight. But, I remained alone, my thoughts never able to stray far from Dream.

God, he’s probably so angry with me. I thought, curling up even more. Would me leaving be enough for him to finally hate me? Would I even be welcome to go back now? A thousand questions and worries swirled in my head, all of them slowly consuming me bit by bit until a voice echoed around me. “Penelope.”

I sat up, looking around the space for a moment. The voice was faint but familiar, soft and pleading as if it was asking for permission to be heard. "Weaver, can you hear me?"

"Destiny?" I answered softly, pulling up the threads to find his glowing brightly in front of me. I reached out, setting my hand on it and closing my eyes, focusing as I had before on Destiny.

The sunshine lit up the green hedges and butterflies greeted me as I moved through the maze. Destiny was already waiting for me, standing with his back turned and his eyes cast up at Dreams statue. I watched him for a moment, taking in the way he held the book tightly, the way his shoulders tensed. "Des?"

"Penelope," he answered softly, turning to offer me a small smile. "I apologize for having called you here at such a difficult time."

Of course he knew. I shook my head. "Has Lyria returned?"

A flash of sorrow passed over his face. "No, but a friend of yours visited me with something for you."

"A friend?"

A loud caw echoed in the courtyard and Destiny moved aside to reveal Matthew perched beside the stone raven at Dreams feet. He perked up visibly at the sight of me. "Hey, Penny, it's good to see you "

I smiled at him. "You too, Smokey."

"Don't worry, the boss isn't watching. He's busy."

"Is he…" I took a deep breath, trying to reign in the tears that stung my eyes. "Is he angry?"

Matthew tilted his head a bit. "I think it's more hurt than it is anger. The Dreaming took quite a blow after you left though. I've never felt winds so cold."

Panic settled into my gut. "Is everyone alright? I can come back-"

"No, no, everyone's alright. We're proud of you. All of us."

I shook my head. "Proud? Of what? I left… I…"

"You stood up to him," he answered. "You called him out on his shitty punishment for Gault, his attitude towards the people… And his refusal to let you be what you are, the heart of The Dreaming."

"He is the heart of The Dreaming." I sighed.

"And yet everything only started falling apart after you left." He argued. "Look, all I'm saying is you're just as important as he is, and, well, we have your back."

He tapped his beak on the book he stood on. "Lucienne found it?"

Matthew moved, letting me lift the book up to examine it. "It's not the book you were looking for, but Storm heard from some nightmare or human, someone, that this book could help you find the other one."

"Ahh, a good old treasure hunt!" I cheered halfheartedly. "Just what I need."

"I'm sorry, Penny." The raven said. "I wish I could stay and help you out but…"

"But the second Dream finishes whatever he's doing and sees me through you, he'll hunt me down and drag me back to The Dreaming so he can scold me?" I finished for him.

Matthew shifted a little. "I don't think he'd drag you back… Not immediately that is."

I smiled down at him and smoothed a hand over his feathers. "Thank you, Matthew. Keep an eye on them for me, even Dream… Especially Dream."

"You got it, Penny." He moved to take off but paused, looking up at me with glistening black eyes. "Be careful and… When you're ready, come home."

"I will," I promised. "Tell Lucienne and Storm I said thank you."

I watched the raven fly off for a moment before turning to Destiny and showing him the book. "Is this going to be helpful?"

His misty eyes looked at the book and then to me. "Perhaps."

"I know you know," I said with a sigh. "Could you just this once help me without the riddles?"

"No." His fingers curled tightly around his book. "I am afraid I cannot interfere. Whatever paths you tread now you must do so alone. As much as I long…" He stopped himself. "My garden is open to you, Weaver, should you choose to stay here."

I sighed and set my hand on his shoulder. "I'll find a way to bring her back, Des, I promise."

As I turned to leave, following the green thread I could have sworn I heard him whisper, "She is not the one I fear for."

When I turned to ask what he meant he was gone. I kept going, returning to Destruction's realm and settling back on the bed, opening the book to start looking for answers. It was long winded and boring, but it helped occupy me enough that the thoughts of Dream were pushed to the back of my mind, for a little while at least.

The book revealed a lot of history, realms and names I'd never heard of. It painted the picture of a vibrant world, full of life and loyal subjects and an ambitious god that ruled. At one point this god's ambition grew too great. It made a deal with the devil, one so bad even Destiny couldn't stand aside. War broke out against a few gods, the devils demons and the Endless. It was how Dream got his helm and how Destiny earned the ire of the demon now possessing Lyria.

There in dark black ink a name was written. "Mephistopheles."

The realm shook around me, the whispers of the weapons outside the door grew louder until it stopped completely and dark mist oozed from the cracks of the doorframe. I set the book on the bed, grabbing my daggers and securing them on my thighs. This was no doubt going to lead somewhere bad and I sure as hell wasn't going in unprepared. I opened the door slowly and took a deep breath before moving through the mist and into the unknown that lay before me. It was dark, no light of any kind to be seen in any direction. A biting cold swept over me as I continued to move forward. I summoned the threads, using the golden light of the burning thread to guide me forward through the darkness until I reached the base of a stone ruin.

The dark mist filled the air, curling like vines over the staircase of cracked stone. I could hardly see my hand in front of my face the deeper I got into this strange place so I began relying solely on the glowing thread to guide me forward. Faces of fallen statues were overgrown with dark ivy plants and black flowers that seemed to curl up as I passed by with the light. What was this place? I asked myself, straining to see anything in the darkness ahead.

The sound of something scratching against the stone echoed from the left, causing me to halt my steps. My heartbeat quickened as I waited, but silence had once again filled the stale air. Two steps forward and more scratching echoed, this time from the left and the right. Sickly gray shapes darted through the mist, running on all fours, visible for only a moment before vanishing into the darkness again.

I wasn't alone here. I forced myself to keep walking. One foot in front of the other. As I moved to take another step one of the shapes rose from the mist right in front of me. It was perfectly still for a moment before it tilted its head sharply to the right and then to the left. From what I could see it looked like a man, but as it turned toward me I had to stifle a startled noise at the sight of its facelessness. Smooth white skin stretched over a twisted mouth of sharp teeth, straining and tearing each time it opened its mouth.

It took a step towards me, leaning in and tilting its head a few more times. The smell of rotten corpses and sulfur filled my nose as it leaned even closer. Every inch of my skin rose up at the creature, my body itches at me to run and never look back but I stood still. Crumbling rocks echoed in the distance, the creature's head snapped to the noise and ran off towards it, five or more following it through the mist.

Okay, time to get the fuck out of here. I moved to turn around, but as I did another figure stood in the mist. This one was taller, with long clawed fingers. Its lidless eyes watched me and a wide smile spread on its face. Fuck. My hands gripped the blades on my thighs tightly as I kept eye contact with the beast. I expected it to lunge at me or perhaps call its friends but it did neither. Instead it knelt down, hunching over its too long legs and stretched out toward me.

One long finger pointed at my forehead, a light emitting from the center of it. The light hit the creature's face, melting away its grotesque outward appearance to reveal a human face beneath it. Their eyes were frozen open, cheeks spilling with tears and their lips quivered as they said in a hoarse and ancient voice, "At last… You've come to free us, Penelope."

"You know me?" I whispered, throat dry and fingers curled around the hilts of my daggers.

"By name alone." The creature said. "A Weaver born of fate and dreams… Star kissed by the old goddess of the night. You alone have the power to free us."

More creatures stepped out from the mist, all twisted and deformed. "Who are you?"

Low painted moans filled the air. "We are the forgotten ones… The ones that did not contain the power to hold it."

"It?" I asked. "Meaning Mephistopheles?"

The creature twisted away from me, dragging its claws over its ears and writhing in pain. "Do not speak its name! Do not speak its name!"

Shrieks filled the air as all the other creatures reacted the same. The one in front of me slammed its hands down on either side of my body and its weeping face came inches in front of mine. "You are running out of time, Penelope. Climb the stairs. Find the book. Run."

"I don't understand."

"Climb the stairs. Find the book. Run. Climb the stairs. Find the book. Run." The creature continued to chant the words over and over again as it slid back into the mist and its voice faded away.

Cold wind howled, growing louder and more powerful as I moved up the steps. My heart pounded louder in my chest and the air felt thinner and thinner. This place was poisoned, the soil and the stone and these people… The creatures they were now, right down to the wind. Everything here was laced with a heavy darkness, powerful and old. I climbed higher until the stairs shifted into a flat space. It looked like a throne room, and there in the center of it was an altar with a black book sitting atop it. Shadow oozed from the pages, seeping down into the floor and seemingly filling the space.

As I approached, a laugh echoed around me. "What's this? The little Weaver has come to my domain to play?" Get the book and get out. I reminded myself not to falter in my steps even as Lyria, the demon, appeared behind it. "Did you think I would just let you take it?"

"I'm leaving with that book." I said continuing my strides forward. “Mephistopheles.”

It laughed, coughing up a glob of black. "You’ve finally learned something interesting it seems, but you forget yourself Weaver. You cannot kill me, not without killing poor little Lyria.”

We stared one another down. “You tricked her, manipulated her fear and forced her to free you.”

“Of course I did. Weavers are the only ones strong enough to hold my power, all the others… as you’ve seen, bend to it.” She smiled. “Lyria was strong. In the beginning she fought so hard, but after her little tiff with Destiny she fled her home and slowly bent to me, just as you will.”

“I won’t bend to you, demon.”

“No, perhaps not. But, you will be staying here with me for eternity just like all the others."

It lunged over the altar toward me and I dodged to the side, just barely missing its claws. Making a dash towards the altar I grabbed the book just as it grabbed my arm and turned me to face it. The gold of Lyrias eyes greeted me as she fought against its hold. "Go."

"I'll come back for you," I promised her.

She smiled, a pained noise echoing from her. "Hurry!"

I ran as fast as I could, gripping the book tightly in my hands as I dodged the creatures that now seemed hell bent on catching me. The golden light led me through the darkness and back toward the open door, bathed in white light. I could hear the shrieks and scratching of everything lurking in the dark, I could feel them swiping at the air beneath my feet and behind my heels as I dove through the door and landed in the stone of Destiny's garden.

Panting and curling into the warmth of the ground I almost missed Destiny standing above me. I looked up at him and smiled. "I got it."

He gestured to my shoulder, "Not without paying a price."

I looked at the long jagged claw marks that now married my skin and sighed as the adrenaline began to wear off. "Ow. Worth it."

"I'll do what I can for it. Please, sit."

Destiny cleaned the wound and bound it tightly as I flipped through the pages of the book. “It’s in some kind of dead language. Can you read it?”

As I held the book to him he stepped away. “I cannot interfere, Weaver.”

“Oh come on, just look at it for two seconds.”

“No.”

My head cocked to the side at his odd behavior. “Des, what’s going on?”

He sighed heavily. “Penelope-”

“Petal,” A voice cooed around us. “It’s time to uphold your end of our deal.”

“Fuck.” I grumbled setting the book on the table and meeting Destiny’s eyes. “I have to go, but… Are you okay?”

He nodded stiffly. “Yes. Be cautious, Weaver.”

“Desire is an asshole, but I doubt they’ll hurt me.” I answered.

“You should not be so trusting of them,” he replied. “Goodbye.”

The path led me to a vibrant red door and into Desire’s realm. Just like last time I’d been, the glossy red floor echoed with my steps as I ascended the stairs and walked towards their black clothed figure lounging across some kind of red couch. Their upsidedown head twisted to look at me with a grimace. “Oh dear, you look truly awful! Has my brother been such a neglectful host?”

I grit my teeth and shrugged, letting my arms fall to my sides. “I’m here. What do you want?”

Their smile grew as they sat up. “Oh, you haven’t been staying with him!”

“It’s none of your business,” I answered tensely.

"Come now Petal, don't look so glum!" They purred, pulling me to sit beside them and stroking my hair. "I did warn you that this was going to happen."

I sighed, pulling away from their touch. "Can we just get this over with? Summon your fancy food and gossip so I can..." So I could what? Go home? Dream won't change. Not for anyone... Not even you.

Desire stood, offering me their manicured hand. "We're not staying here."

"We aren't?"

"No, of course not! Unlike my big brother I know how to have a little fun!" They smiled widely. "What do you say, sweet Petal? May I, just this once, offer you what that precious heart of yours truly wants?"

I stared up at them for a moment, the elegance of their clothes and posture almost covered up the mischievous gleam in their smile and the way their golden eyes seemed to flare with a knowing look that pierced my soul. What was it I desired? I didn't even know anymore... Maybe I never knew. The gold of their eyes burned brighter as I placed my hand in theirs. A wave of power pulsed through me. It wasn't like Dreams, not cold or filled with shadows and dreams. Their power was bright and burning, sending tingles and phantom touches up my arm and all along my body. "I..."

"Shh," they cooed, pulling me to my feet. "Let me show you all you've been deprived of in my big brother's boring little bubble." Their eyes were glowing now as the red glossiness of their realm faded away and foreign fabric smoothed over my skin in place of my plain clothes. Their smile grew wider as their hands settled on my shoulders. "Let me show you the freedom you desire."

The glossy red of their realm faded away to dim lights and loud noise as we moved to a bar. Desire sat beside me, their hand still holding mine, in a plush red cushioned booth. “Where are we?”

“London,” they answered. “A fancy little establishment called The Golden Petal. I thought it was fitting, all things considered.”

I looked down at the clothes I now wore with a scoff. A bright red dress clung to my body, short with thin straps and a high thigh slit with red fishnets covering my legs. “Really?”

Desire laughed. “Come on, you look far better now than when you arrived!”

The waiter brought us a menu and drinks, and Desire ordered everything on it. They made light conversation until the food arrived and then attempted to dig up the past and call it gossip. I didn’t care. Not when they mentioned the asylum, not when they brought up Nada, not when they implied Dream cared less for me than he did her. I ate in silence up until Desire couldn’t stand it anymore. They pushed a drink over to me. “Drink, petal.”

“No thanks,” I said.

“Drink,” they insisted. “Or we’ll be here all night. I’m not going to be satisfied until you loosen up a bit.”

I glared at them, their gold eyes glowing once again as they stroked up my arm, that powerful burning sensation returning and washing over my body until I found myself light headed and lifting the glass to my lips. The alcohol stung my throat, but it didn’t seem to bother me as much as I was expecting. Beside me Desire offered more and more and more until alcohol turned into a cigarette or two which turned into other substances. All the while my mind grew blurrier and blurrier until I thought I’d pass out, but didn’t. Desire’s golden eyes glowed at me the whole time.

The smoke tickled my lips as I slowly exhaled, watching the ceiling sparkle with stardust. Everything swirled and blended together, colors and lights and people dancing all of this energy and noise surrounded me, but it felt empty… I felt empty. As I moved through the crowd of people, my body either too slow or too fast, I squinted trying to focus my eyes enough to find Desire in the sea of bodies.

Had they left me here? It wouldn't be out of character for them, especially after they'd gotten what they wanted. I could only assume they had, I mean we had dinner and I'd effectively gotten drunk and high. That was what they'd wanted, to "show me freedom". This didn't feel like freedom though. It hadn't from the start. I was fucked up.

The already blurred faces of the crowd began to melt together, heat rolled over my shoulders and the smell of smoke that filled the air brought the tangled twisted vines of The Stewards home curling around me. Screams and shouts filled the night club as I stumbled and pushed my way out of the crowd. Manic giggles echoed from somewhere in the room and before I could stop I was falling.

A hand wrapped around my wrist and an arm curled around my middle, pulling me up into a black clad chest. The blurred figure led me to the wall far from the crowd and gently stroked my hair, mumbling incoherent words to me as I steadied myself. After my eyes had cleared I looked up and a choked sob caught in my throat. "Dream?"

His soft skin and unruly black hair seemed to glow in the dull red light as his dark eyes, swirling with golden sand, stared down at me. Had he come looking for me? Oh god, I probably looked terrible. Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh," his thumb wiped away my tears and his head tilted closer to mine. The air between us smelt of peaches and bourbon, something electric and consuming sunk into my skin where his hands touched me.

My body hummed, burning with the irresistible urge to touch him. It felt odd, felt out of my control as my body moved. My hand curled around the back of his neck and I pushed myself up and pressed my mouth to his desperate and wanting. This felt different… His lips moved against mine in a way they didn't before. His touch was filled with fire, grabbing and pulling and taking. "Morpheus, please."

One hand squeezed my hip harshly while the other ran up the length of my spine sending chills through me. His hand fisted in my hair, pulling far more roughly than usual. Then his lips connected to my throat, sucking and biting with a fast and burning need. My hands fisted in his coat as the moan tore through my throat, vibrating against his lips.

My eyes locked onto the mirror behind him, through the hazy blurred reflection I could have sworn I saw Dream behind us before he was gone. He lifted his head from my neck, eyes of gold flared down at me for a second before they pulled their lips back to mine. Desire. My hands slammed against their chest, tearing them off of me. Slowly Dreams' face faded away, revealing their signature grin. They held my face in their hands. "Come on, Petal. Let go and I can show you what it feels like to really be desired."

I shoved away from them, chest heaving and world spinning as I pushed back through the crowd making a break for the glowing exit sign. I could hear their laughter echoing around me as I shoved the door open and stumbled out into the chilled midnight air. The darkness of the alley twisted around my legs, pulling me to the ground. Rats scattered away from me as I hit the floor.

I was shaking now as a pair of arms pulled me up into a soft lap. Fingers ran through my hair as the figure of Dream's sibling rocked soothingly. I let out a strangled breath and she shushed me gently. "Don't worry. It's alright. I'm sorry for last time. I didn't know that you had so much pain under the surface. You won't drown this time."

“Everything hurts,” I whined.

She sighed and pressed her cheek to my forehead. “I know it does. I can feel it. They brought it all to the surface with their games… you don’t deserve that. I told them to be nice, I told them you were hurting.”

"I have to get back…" I mumbled after what felt like forever, or maybe it felt shorter? Rolling out of the comfort of her arms I pulled myself up and stumbled towards the door. My body threw itself against it, pushing through it with ease and sending me flying through it and off the ledge of a roof.

A hand grabbed mine at the last second, pulling me back into the familiar smell of bitter wine. Soft hands lovingly stroked my cheeks and pulled my hair away from my face as I settled on my back on the rooftop. The blurry figure quickly laid down beside me and held my hand. I watched the night sky twist together as the figure's finger pointed up. "So many stars out there, you'd think she'd be a bit more bright and open. But she doesn't think like we do, and doesn't see things the same even with her big eyes."

I turned my head, eyes finally focusing on the rainbow streaked hair and the rainbow fishnet tights and untied boots. "De?"

She turned, the fishes on her eyes were now toads, one pink and one blue sparkling in the dim light. "You look tired, butterfly."

A sob tore through my throat as I rolled over, wrapping myself around her. "No offense, but I don't know if I should be happy to see you or incredibly worried."

"I think you should be both. So silly to cause conflict over something so little." She held me tighter. "When I told you to visit I didn't mean like this."

"It's that bad huh?" I asked, pulling away a little so we lay facing one another, our hands locked between us."

"Oh! Your eyes are leaking!" Her mismatched eyes shimmered as she looked at me, wiping away my tears. "You've looked worse. Better than the last time. White is NOT your color!" Her eyes looked down at the dress Desire had given me and she scrunched up her nose. "Red isn't the best for you either."

I laughed, something that quickly turned into crying. I held onto her tighter. "How did you get here?"

"I followed you, silly!"

The feeling of her velvet touch eased some of my discomfort. "I missed you, toad."

"I missed you too, butterfly." She pressed her forehead to mine. "You still look so sad."

"I want to go home," I said desperately.

"Then go. He wants you to go home too."

Shaking my head I forced myself to sit up. "No. No. He doesn't want me, not when I'm…" I sobbed again. "Not when I'm like this. So broken and desperate I let Desire trick me." My hands fisted in my hair at the vague memory of him in the mirror, tugging at the roots hard. "Oh God. He saw! He saw me kiss them!"

"Butterfly," De tried to pull me back to her voice. "Breathe."

"He hates me now. I finally did it. I finally fucked it up like I always do!"

"That's not true."

I stood, stumbling around until I found the stairs. De offered me her hands and helped me walk. “I have to go. I have to…” My brain felt so full of things, everything was bright and loud and too much. “I…”

De pulled me in close as we walked down the busy sidewalk. “Just relax, butterfly, it'll wear off soon.”

“No,” I mumbled. “If it wears off you’ll leave again.”

De’s eyes grew sad as she smiled at me. “You can always come visit. Just not like this next time.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Butterfly, you can’t keep this up.”

A bright bar sign came into view and I hurried toward it. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I didn’t want to feel all the pain and the hurt and everything anymore. Just this once I wanted to feel nothing, wanted to be nothing. “Yes I can.”

“Butterfly! Penelope!” She yelled after me, her voice fading into the loud music and the sounds of the crowd as I shoved my way to the bar.

I ordered and sat in the stool, drinking half of the glass before sitting there frozen as tears slid down my cheeks. Useless. Nothing. Human. Weaver. Lady. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The glass clattered against the bar and I stood, nearly falling to the floor when two strong arms wrapped around me. The smell of ink and steel wrapped around me, cocooning me in warmth for a moment. “Careful, Inky.”

Pulling back I looked up at some gray haired drunkard with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Moving with a newfound desperate speed I walked until I could hear the river and see the hazy bridge up ahead. My heart was beating too fast, so fast it felt like it was about to burst from my chest as I stood up on the ledge and looked down at the rushing water below. I was out of control, whether it was Desires doing or the drugs or my own it didn’t matter. I won’t go back. I told myself, the memories curling around my neck like a noose. I won’t let you die. Elias’ voice echoed in my head, urging me to step forward.

A warm hand fisted into my dress and roughly pulled me back into a solid chest. I struggled against them for a moment before going limp in their arms as they dragged me away from the edge of the bridge. Rough hands rubbed my skin. “Oh, Ma moitié… What has driven you to this?”

“Pierre?” I sobbed, curling my face into the warmth of his neck. “Am I dead?”

“No,” he chuckled, his arms tightening around me. “The lovely Death brought me to help you.”

I felt her hand against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Penelope. Desire should never have used their power against you.”

Looking up at her warm eyes I sighed. “How did you find me?”

“Delirium came to me,” she answered. De… Delirium. God it made so much sense. “She was afraid you’d do something drastic, so I enlisted the help of a face you could trust.”

My fingers curled into his jacket and I smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She looked up to Pierre. “You can’t stay for long.”

“I know, fair Death,” he answered, kissing my head. “I know.”

I didn’t remember sitting on the bench, but I didn’t care so long as Pierre was beside me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he spoke about Death and the beauty of the Sunless Lands. He looked happy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He stroked my cheek. “Do not apologize, Ma moitié. You are alive, free, that is all I could have ever hoped for. Now, tell me what has the lover done?”

“Nothing,” I replied, pressing a hand to my aching head. “It’s my fault. I expected too much-”

“No.” He said sternly. “Do not take the blame for him. You deserve the world, Ma moitié, more than that. I know you, anything you asked of him was something reasonable and fair. You do not ask for much to be happy, my half.”

I smiled unsteadily. “I miss you.”

Pierre pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“I don’t.” He said holding my face in his hands. “You are meant for so much more than sitting on a bench with a lowlife like me. You are strong and brave and loyal and you are powerful beyond my comprehension.”

“What if I fucked it all up?” I asked with a weak sob. “What if he hates me?”

Pierre shook his head. “It is impossible to hate you, Penelope. You are the most beautiful and wonderful person in this world. The lover knows this, and I can assure you he does not hate you.”

I gripped onto his jacket. “You have to leave don’t you?”

“I do. But you’re in good hands, Ma moitié. Stupid, but good hands.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “You two will find each other again. I know you will. Just, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Make him work for your forgiveness. If you can manage it, I’d like to know you made him grovel a bit.”

I laughed. “You’re an ass.”

He shrugged. “Always.”

“I love you, Pierre.” I whispered.

“I love you too, Ma moitié.” The warmth of him began to fade away as he returned to wherever Death had taken him. “Goodbye.”

His touch was replaced by slightly colder hands as I opened my eyes to see Johanna kneeling in front of me on the bench with worry etched onto her face. “Pen?”

“Johanna.”

“Thank fuck,” she whispered. “I thought you were dead.”

She punched me in the shoulder. “OW!”

“That’s for scaring me!” She pulled me up into her arms and hugged me tightly. “You stubborn bitch. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I’m sorry Jo.”

“Let's go,” she said, tugging me toward the cab. “It’s gonna rain soon.”

Johanna had definitely let the apartment go down in my absence. The floor was littered with things, her hoard of demon tools growing larger by the looks of it spilling out of her office. She led me to my old room, now bare of all decorations and absent of that warm feeling of home. She helped me out of my dress and I changed into an old tank top and some pants that had gotten left here. Johanna tucked me into the bed, laying down beside me for a while until I drifted off into a light sleep, one that didn’t last long.

A loud thunder boomed overhead, shaking the room as I sat up straight in bed and covered my ears. I wasn’t in the bedroom anymore, the hedges of Destiny’s garden looming over me as the dark sky swirled with storm clouds and lightning. I stood and quickly moved toward the center of the maze expecting to see Destiny waiting, instead being met by three figures clothed in white. The Fates.

“Fate touched,” the Maiden said with a smile. “It gladdens us to see you.”

“Fate kissed,” the Mother’s eyes roamed down my form. “Are you well?”

“Fate bound,” the Crone sneered. “The time has come to see if your wings are strong enough to weather the storm.”

I sighed, my head still slightly spinning. “Now really isn’t the best time.”

They laughed in unison, each different and powerful. “A Weaver you may be, but even you are not above the call of fate.”

“What do you want from me?”

The Maiden sighed. “Two paths lie ahead of you. One known and the other clouded in darkness.”

The Mother turned her head toward the maze of hedges. “Two paths. One of life and one of death.”

The Crone smiled, sharp and twisted. “Two paths. One bound in fate and threads, yours and yours alone. The other blessed of night and time with either a crown of grace to rise you up or chains of darkness to bind you and this world to ruin.”

A hand touched my shoulder, the haziness of my mind and the sluggishness of my body lifted from me Destiny stood beside me, face emotionless as he regarded The Fates with a nod of his head. “Hecate.”

They all regarded him with respect. “Destiny.”

I looked up at him and sighed. “What’s going on?”

“This is your final test, Weaver.” He answered, gesturing towards the maze.

Now only two paths stood before me. One lined and swirling with butterflies and the other. I gasped at the sight of a thread leading down it. “Dream.”

Thunder cracked in the sky and lightning followed. “This time the path you choose will determine not just your fate but that of this universe and my brother.”

Fear filled me as I took in his words. “Why? Why me? Why now?”

"You were born before the death of the previous Weaver, of Lyria, such a thing should not have been possible. But, the book revealed your purpose." Destiny's eyes did not falter as he placed his hand back on my shoulder. "You were always meant to be the last Weaver of this world. Should you pass, another shall not take your place."

"What happens to the world if I die?"

Destiny, for once, spoke clearly. "This world will enter its age of destruction and the end of all things will be on the horizon."

"Follow the butterflies as you always have, love." The Mother said.

"Do not meddle in matters beyond your station, Weaver," The Crone sneered.

The Maiden spoke, "The Dream Lord's fate has been written."

The Crone smiled, "It would take much power to alter the path he has forged."

The Mother sighed, "Much power, even for you."

"You would be stripped of your light and left to darkness should you try," The Maiden said.

I looked to the right path, to the butterflies that lined the hedges, swirling out towards me. Then I looked to the left where Dreams thread was pulled taut, the mark on my arm pulsing with him. One path was a guarantee that I would live on with the world, but at what price? Dreams life? The other was unknown, even to Destiny, but all seemed certain that my life would be the one to hang in the balance.

A flash of green flew away from the crowd of butterflies. The softness of its wings glistened in the moonlight as it landed on Dreams thread. I didn't speak a word, not to Destiny or The Fates, I just moved forward following Dreams thread down the left path. There would be no life without Morpheus, not for the humans that relied on him for hope and not for me.

The unfamiliar doors appeared before me, muffled voices behind it, and I didn't hesitate to walk through. A sea of chairs and sleeping people greeted me and there on a stage stood The Corinthian and Dream, his back facing me as he listened to his creation. "Here you are, alone, just as you've always been… As you always will be."

“He's not alone," I said as I walked up the stairs, ignoring the way my heart ached as I slid in front of Dream.

I could feel him for the first time in days. The steady hum of his power sending goosebumps along my skin, the smell of night and stardust and home. His breath fanned across the back of my head as he whispered, his voice sending a wave of relief crashing down over me. “Penelope.”

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rizelcchi · 1 year

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Dialogue Prompts I Think of Before I Sleep

This is a repost from my threads on twitter! I don’t really recheck it because I write these in like... 2 AM. It’s mostly angst, and may includes yandere or dark themes too.

"I know everything about you, from what you like to eat, your preference in clothes, every person you've talked to, until the fact that you're supposed to be mine. Yet I also know that your heart belongs to someone else."

"I don't want to return to our happiest time. I want to spend each and every memories together with you. From the most painful until the sweetest moments, I want you to be always beside me."

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I keep telling you that, I always showed you that love of mine. Are love supposed to be this painful?"

"I loathe being lonely. I despised loneliness. And I also hated the way every time silence came, my mind wanders towards our memories together in the past."

"Don't leave me too. I can stand being avoided, I don't mind you hated me, I know you want me to disappear. But dear, don't leave me alone in this loneliness. Losing you is even more painful than death itself."

"This heart of mine belongs to you, and it'll always be yours for eternity."

A:"Why are you staring at me?" B:"I'm looking at my favorite thing in the world."

A:"What's this?" B:"Breakfast! I make it for you!" A:"Why is the detergent bottle beside the stove?"

"Every person has many different faces. For me, I have 3, the first is towards strangers, second is for those I'm close with, and the third is just for you."

"What is the use of love language when I'm going to do everything you need and want flawlessly while also accepting everything you're going to do or give to me with my whole heart?"

"I wonder how you'll look like when I die without ever saying "I love you" to you? Aah, it'll be the best revenge ever. I'll be patiently waiting for that day to come."

"Can I believe you'll be waiting for me until I come back?"

A:"people said that after 5 years of marriage it isn't love anymore, it just become a habit of them to be together." B:"Well those people are wrong. I love you. What do you want for dinner?"

"In this life, I'll fulfill all of your wish that I failed to do in my last life. This time, I'll give you the happiness that you deserved."

"It's because you're precious to me that I'm letting you go. Your wish is my commands, and your happiness has always been my happiness."

"We may be killing dragons and in a big journey of saving the world, but to be honest, if I have the chance, I would much preferred to live with you without any problems besides tending our little garden.”

"You called me with a thousand nicknames but never even once you've ever called me by my name."

"We started off as friends, and then we became lovers. The problem is, our feelings never changes, we saw each others merely as a friend, never more, never less. That 'love' everyone dreamed about never existed between us."

"We have everything in this world except time."

"Thank you for teaching me what is the meaning of love to this despised me. I love you."

"I know that you don't care about me, and that you'll never cry because of me. But at the very least, when I die, will you attend my funeral?"

"I don't deserve any happiness. I am a sinner. This hand of mine has taken countless things from others, my own sins are crushing me as we talk. Nevertheless, I'm still breathing, and this life is a punishment for me."

"I hope in the next time when you wake up, you won't be greeted by the sea of blood anymore. I sincerely wish that you'll live in the beautiful scenery, just like the flowers in those paintings."

"I'm sorry. Although you've done everything for me because of your love for me, I could only feel my guilt towards you. The everlasting pain from the one I love will never cease forever."

"There's a lot of mistakes someone could never avoid in their life, but my biggest mistake in this life is placing my trust in you."

"It's my fault… What's the use of this pain from regrets when I can't do anything about it anymore…"

"In spite of everything that had happened, in the end, I still love this world."

"Everything just turn to the same things before you come to my life and yet I wonder why everything feels so different now."

"To others, it may seems like a trivial matter, a simple one, if I must say. But for him, that "good bye" is his greatest nightmare."

"Her life depends on me. I could kill her if I want, anytime. She belongs to me, and I couldn't live without her. And so, I'll allow her to live for eternity to accompany me."

#fanfic #prompts #fic prompt #angst #fic ideas #ideas #writing #writing ideas #fanfiction #yandere #dark themes #romance #dialogue #angst prompt dialogue #fluff #angst ideas

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saleintothe90s · 6 months

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490. The 1980 Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, November 27, 1980

(the whole parade is here, if you just want the commercials and highlights, it's here)

Randy Hamilton from the soap opera Texas sings "Deep in the Heart of Texas" with a small child? Who is this small child. I want it to be a random child that they chose three minutes before turning the cameras on. Randy doesn't have a Wikipedia page! Sadness.

Ahhh!! Is that a baby Mark Linn Baker in the GE commercial?!

I love the crowd whooping it up for the cast of One 'Mo Time. I was wondering what was behind them --- I think it was the broadcast booth for host Ed McMahon! Just ... there with the saddest looking Woolworth decorations ever.

What a weird closing card (what do you call that?) for this Child World / Children's Palace commercial that aired constantly. Ok, the bear didn't fall on his butt? That was the best shot we could get?

For some reason Marilyn Michaels takes off her gloves while singing "Watching the Parade go Byyy". That couldn't of waited, Marilyn?

Todd Bridges sang a song about the Summer. I felt bad for Todd, he had no back up dancers, just dancing in the street. Was this a time filler? Loved the song!

A baby Glenn Close was there with the cast of Barnum. I feel like Ed is auditioning for the Star Search hosting gig with this parade. I love his energy.

I love the juxtaposition of Bryant Gumbel thanking the Museum of Natural history for letting people warm up in their building with Doodlebug.

Ed sang a song! When was the last time a host SANG.

I thought Cootie ran over a clown, but the clown deliberately laid down in front of him??

Just for us Hampton Roads girlies, Busch Gardens of Williamsburg had a Loch Ness Monster float! It's still at Busch Gardens! The cast of Brigadoon was on the float.

Ed was trying to find a date for Happy Dragon. He said "I guess now that he's 21, he's free to go out in the evening and date whomever he chooses. So if you have an eligible dragon hanging around your house moping, we might be able to set them up and in the years to come, who knows how many dragons we might have in the parade!"

There was a float for everyone's favorite box office flop, Popeye! I think that's supposed to be Olive Oyl?!

1980 was electric football's year. It felt like it was the only toy advertised!

"Tonka's Bear in a Box! Everyone's favorite!"

Finally, a game that looks like one of my dad's vintage fire scanners.

Cowboys were HOT this year, due to the movie Urban Cowboy, and the TV show Dallas. Modern equivalent to this would be this past Summer's Western Barbie! We even had Dean Butler from Little House on the Prairie sing "Don't Fence Me In" while riding a tortoise. The Lone Ranger even showed up. Oh, and even the McDonalds commercial with Ronald was western themed.

While Snoopy couldn't fly this year due to a leg injury, we had Underdog.

Can we discuss how a station wagon is pulling a float. Later on, I saw an Oldsmobile sedan towing the float with the Spinners on it.

This beautiful phone store.

I feel like by the time we were growing up in the late 80s/early 90s, Kermit had more bad days at the parade than good, but 1980 was a good year for him. Just look at him.

Casper is over here looking like the baby from Ally McBeal.

Bob from Sesame Street sang a song while Bert & Ernie danced. Even Oscar liked the song.

Unfortunately, the entire parade isn't on YouTube. Looks like the recorder only set their VCR for two hours. One of the final things you see is Linda Ronstadt and the cast of The Pirates of Penzance. "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General" slaps.

Related: previous thanksgiving entries.

#thanksgiving #Macys thanksgiving day parade #1980 #ed mcmahon

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ramayantika · 1 year

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Mathura Nagarpati

Inspired from Rukmini Vijayakumar's dance video on the same song from Raincoat. I had once posted a script kinda thingy about this to make a dance piece. Here, I will write a fic on the same. Also I apologize beforehand if this makes you cry by the end. :)

»»————> ✿ <————««

My dearest friend, Shyamala walks beside me to the Yamuna to fill our water pots for our household needs. We have been doing this from childhood, and even though I do have a daughter-in-law now, who is more fit to carry these pots from the river to back home, I always insist to do it everyday for old times sake. Also, she is already too busy to take care of my grand daughter and other household works.

For old times' sake....

SPLASH!

Shyamala and I raise our heads up to see who fell into the river, only to meet a fun sight of a couple of kids frolicking in the Yamuna. Two little girls were laughing, their hands clutching their tummies while three boys adorable pouted at them. The river had crowned a boy's head with a lotus leaf.

I look at Shyamala. Her now thin lips carry a small smile at the children. Her eyes instinctively turn towards mine, and she says, "Once, we were young like them too. Good times, wasn't it." She touched her lower back and continued, "Only if, I wouldn't suffer from this wretched back ache, I would definitely call the others and jump into the river just like we used to do it back then. I wish I could do it once again – for old times' sake."

Sitting down by the riverbank, wincing slightly at the pain in my knee joints, I reply, "You know, you can send Malati to bring water. This back pain takes a toll on you every time."

Chuckling, she moves a pot into the gracious river, saying "I am old. I need to exercise my body so that I still remain active and sane until my last breath. Also, I keep doing this just to revisit my memories."

Ah... looks like we all engaged ourselves in such activities to painfully remind ourselves of our bittersweet memories with him.

"It's all for old times' sake." I hear her mutter. Quietly, I decide to fill my pots when for a moment, I notice something unusual in my reflection.

Once I was young and pretty, and whenever he was around me, I always felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. And when he left, I no longer cared how beautiful I looked. Now that, my hair has gone grey, my pretty face, saggy and wrinkled, my limbs no longer agile, I don't find any reason to sit and admire my long lost beauty.

But, today, there was something different. It wasn't as if my face looking drastically young in the reflection, but a single lone peacock feathers on my head.

God, was he too undergoing the old times' sake feeling like all of us?

"Shyamala, is there something on my head?" I ask, pointing at my head.

"Except that yellow odhni on your head, and that pretty gorgeous white hair, you have nothing."

Amused, I retort, "My husband even doesn't compliment my hair, the way you do. 'Pretty gorgeous hair' They have lost their thickness!"

My friend ducks her pot in the water, which erupts with a pop sound and says, "You still have some volume left in them. Look at mine -- these are threads."

A high pitched scream from the opposite side of the river alerts us away from out hair thinning concerns.

"Munna, you evil brat. Wait, till I show you," shouted one of the girls who was pushed into the river.

Shyamala clears her throat and called the children. "Kids, you better not venture too far into the river. Stay near the banks and play. Also, stop pushing each other into the water. You never know, if a serpent monster is waiting down to snatch mischevious children away."

A little girl innocently asks Shyamala, "Like Kaliya naag?"

My hand stills. The memory's still fresh in my mind. The large black serpent had poisoned the waters, killed so many of our cattle, and was close to snatching him from us. For us, he was just a child of our age. We never thought he would so powerful to vanquish that demon, and when he danced on top of his head, it seemed as Lord Nataraja was dancing tandava on him.

That evening I had scolded him tremendously. And that charming yet mischevious boy had nothing but a bright smile on his face. Did he not what danger he had encountered?

"Where did you get lost now?" I feel Shyamala shake my arm. "Your pot had begun sailing on the river."

"Oh.." I shake my head and grab my pot when I see a peacock feather on my head again. I brush my fingers over my reflection, watching my image disperse in the gentle waves, the blue green feather still showing itself over my head.

The kids have begun playing with themselves in the water, forgetting their previous quarrel. I smile at them, as my mind drifts to my childhood memories with a young boy who always donned himself in yellow robes, and was dark as the night sky, but had a lustre rivalling the moon.

"Hai Mahadev, why don't you call me to your abode. I can't take this back ache any more." Shyama lifts her pots with a groan. Adjusting one of the pots on her hip, she looks at me, and says, "Listen, I have to head to the village market to buy some seeds for the garden. You go home alone today."

I nod at her, and turn back to the dark river when a gentle voice whispers in my ear, a voice I could recognize anywhere, even in deep sleep.

"Nayani"

I breathe slowly. My eyes close themselves shut, and I keep repeating to myself that all of this is in my head -- that he isn't Vrindavan's Kanha anymore but Mathura nagarpati and Dwarkadheesh.

"Nayani, it is me. Will you not welcome me? Open your eyes. I have come back." I hear him take a pause. "For now."

Ignoring the burning sensation in my throat and my laboured breathing, I turn around to face him. I gasp.

He had indeed come back! My Manohara, my Manmohan.

Tears flow freely out of my eyes. I hug him tightly. His arms still contain the same warmth like they did years ago, even on the day, he had parted ways to leave for Mathura.

I sob, not caring who was watching me. My friend, my first love was back after so many years. I wasn't going to hold back.

His fingers gently caress my back as I step out of his embrace. Even though, I am an old woman now, with him near me, I feel me teenage self come back.

Blushing hard, I look down at his beautiful feet. They are painted in red dye. His toe rings shine magnificently. Taking another step back, I look at him from head to toe.

There is a crown on his head with his signature feather on one side. His curly hair reaches his shoulders. Unlike me, they haven't lost their colour nor their thickness. And for heaven's sake, this man hasn't aged much. I felt bad for myself. He still looked ethereal while I an old maid.

"Tell me your beauty secret, Mohan." I look up at him and ask. My saggy cheeks feel warm. I pull my odhni closer to my face in case he sees my red face.

His eyes twinkle and a lovely smile curves on his lips. "And tell me since when did you start hiding yourself from me?"

I stare at him. "Why will I hide from you Kanha?"

He smiles some more and moves my odhni from my face, his fingers brush my cheek and I partly wince and partly melt. "There you go. This is the Nayani, I know."

His smile is infectious. Smiling ear to ear, I reply, "Well, this Nayani is not a young sixteen year old. She is married, a mother and now a grandmother. What will people say if they see me blushing in front of another man?"

He says nothing and walks to the river. I follow him. "Do you remember how I stole makhan from your pot here?"

Laughing at the memory, I look at him again and answer, "Of course, I do. I remember everything. I had chased you with a stick, remember?"

"I remember everything too, Nayani."

"Thank God, you do, Mathura nagarpati. A great man after all must remember his roots." I jokingly say. He chuckles and picks a leaf from the ground. He carefully twirls it with his fingers, his eyes examining the leaf in great detail.

"Where do you think will the leaf go if I blow it away?" He asks.

Taken aback by his question, I think for a while. Krishna has always been patient. He turns his body towards me, and I notice something different this time.

When he had arrived her, he looked youthful and radiant. He still looks godly handsome even now, but there is an unusual sadness gracing his features. I can sense something is heavy on his mind, which he is masking by a smile. His eyes look slightly tired. He needs rest, a long rest.

"The answer, Nayani?"

"Since it's the great mighty Krishna blowing the leaf, I am sure it will reach Vaikuntha dham."

He laughs again throwing his head back. His shoulders shake too. Surely, my humour wasn't great to receive such reaction from him.

He keeps on laughing until tears spring out of his eyes. There is a low snifle too. I touch his arm in concern. Was he okay?

Composing himself, he touches the peacock feathers on his crown and tugs at it. Holding my palm, he keeps the feather on it. "I will have to leave for my abode soon. There isn't much time left. So when I leave, blow this feather in air. Who knows this might reach Vaikuntha?"

My heartstrings tug again. He has to leave again? I wasn't going to keep him for long here. He has a lot of work in Dwaraka to do, but he could stay here for a day right?

"Why are you leaving so early? Stay tonight and leave tomorrow. You have to meet kaka kaki and other friends too."

He sighs deeply and closes those lotus petal like eyes. His hold on my palm tightens. "I wish I could do that sakhi. I wish, I could, but I can't. Time will make no exception for me. I will have to leave."

It feels like that unfateful day again. He had told me the same thing. 'I will have to leave. There is no choice. My duties call me.'

I purse my lips and look ahead. Silence settles deep between us. The only sound that I can hear is the gentle gurgling waves of the Yamuna.

Krishna speaks again. "Now now, there is no need to be angry. Let's make the best of our time now. You haven't told me about your family. How is your husband? Did you have a grandson or a grand daughter? Tell me what all did you do after I went away? Just keep talking until it's the time to go." I keep making a disappointed face, which causes the great lord of Dwarka to pout. "Please, just hear me out for one last time?"

And I fail to be mad over him. I narrate each and every incident that took place in his absence. I tell him all the village gossip. I tell him about my family. I tell him how I felt when he left the village, how I lived with this grief for a long time. And at last, when I felt satisfied, sharing every detail of my life with him, I sigh in tiredness and glance at him.

His eyes shine with tears, but there is still that damned smile on his lips. I feel he is hiding yet another news from me.

"You have aged quite well, do you know?"

"At last, I receive a well deserved compliment from the world's handsomest man. Indeed a pleasure, Kanha. Thank you."

There. He erupts into a cheerful laughter again. He stands up and dusts his uttariya. His eyes glance at the setting sun, now doused in shades of red and the sky, in orange and purple. Somewhere I spot some blues too.

He takes a step back, his hand outstretched. "It's time to go sakhi."

I stand up too, my fingers brush his fingertips. "Why so early? This is just like that day." My eyes burn with tears that I am sure will soon fall.

He moves back again, his hand still outstretched as if asking me to try and keep holding it as long as I am able to. "It is. I know. I am sorry. I have to. In a way I could fulfill my promise to you if not for the whole of Vrindavan."

"What do you mean?" I see his form lose its glimmer. His eyes look like fading stars on the onset of dawn.

"Send the feather high up in the air. It will reach me again. It carries all your love and affection for me."

"What's happening Mohan? I don't understand. You look like you are going to fade. Are you unwell?" I stifle a sob and blink those tears away. If this was the last of him, I had to see him until he goes away from my sight.

"Everything is going according to time. Do not worry, Nayani. Let me go. Until unless you leave my hand, I cannot go."

I feel my fingers lose their grip. "Don't go. Please..." I beg him, but I no it won't stop him. It didn't stop him then, it won't stop him now.

He smiles for the last time I think. I clutch the feather tightly. His looks at my fist and says, "Don't hold it so tightly in your fingers. It will crush."

"Krishna..." No other words come out. There is nothing much to say even.

"Nayani.." His voice is like a soft whisper now.

"Fine. Goodbye, Krishna.." I bid him farewell. Perhaps this is the last time I would see him here with me. I cannot tie him with me now, can I?

His smile has caused his face to look a little brighter now. He waves his fingers at me and repeats, "Goodbye, Nayani. Live well."

"You too."

"I have lived well and long. No more."

Huh?

"Sakhi, did you hear the terrible news from Dwaraka? Krishna is no more!"

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

"No, you hallucinated maybe. He is no more. He got shot by a hunter in the forest. Dwarka is submerged -- it now lies deep under the sea." I hear Shyamala, but I no longer respond. Krishna was here. I know it well. I know his touch, the warmth and softness they carry. I felt it. I am still a sane old woman.

"But he talked to me right here. I hugged him too. How can you say that?"

Shyamala starts crying. Her head is over my shoulder, her tears drench my blouse. She rubs my back. "The news has taken a toll on your mind, I think. He never came here!" Her tear stricken face stares at mine. "What do you think sakhi? If he was here, wouldn't the entirety of Vrindavan, go and meet him?"

My heart feels empty. I don't know what to think or what to say. Shyamala keeps consoling me. I don't even have tears in my eyes anymore.

Glancing at the waters of Yamuna again, I catch the peacock feather on my head and I remember what he had asked me to do.

"Let's go home, Shyamala. There's nothing we can do. At least now we know he would never come back to us." I say and get up.

My friend nods and gets up with great difficulty. She doesn't even groan at her aching joints now. The grief had surpassed the bodily pain too.

I see her walk ahead. She doesn't turn back, keeps wiping her eyes with one end of her odhni. I look at the sun. It's so small now and it's only a matter of time when it will depart from the sky. The red and orange hues have made way for the blues to take reign.

What a dark evening would it be today!

My right toe brushes over a soft feathery object. I look down and to my utter surprise, it's a peacock feather.

Picking it up, I stare at the feather. The blue and green colour draws me in. I see Krishna in them. He is playing by the river, stealing our pots and dancing with us. I see him watch the river with me. He is smiling so much and even I am happy too when I hear a voice.

"Let the feather fly."

And I follow his words. I caress it for one last time and kiss it. Looking up at the sky, I blow the feather and it moves up. High up. It doesn't even drift down once like most objects do. My eyes keep following its movement.

It's only a speck now. I can't keep looking at it. My eyes are burning. I can only hope that it somehow reaches him.

'Farewell Mathura nagarpati.'

I hear a splash. Did someone fall into the river?

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

Shaknsgsgshhsbavs I chose to attack today. . *hands over tissues in case you want to cry*

Tagging the sakhis: @swayamev @pothosinpots @ma-douce-souffrance @lil-stark @manwalaage @jessbeinme15 @arachneofthoughts @pokemon-master-elita @merapehlapyaarwaapasaagaya @just-another-godless-god @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @reallythoughtfulwizard

#krishna fics #samridhi writes #mahabharata #desiblr

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