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dontshootmespence · 3 years

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As I Watched In Sorrow

Summary: After experiencing an unimaginable loss, Y/N floats through life, living for...she doesn’t know anymore. When it all becomes too much, she’s greeted by a woman in black with a deal so sweet, she can’t bear to let her grief and her morals get in the way.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,864

Warnings: Probably one of, if not the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Please heed the warnings! Suicidal thoughts and near actions, death of a child, betrayal, a crisis of faith/hatred for Chuck/God, brief mentions of sex, knives, self-hatred. Lots of shit.

A/N: This fulfills my entries to @stusbunker Lie to Me in Melody Challenge - a prompt from a Carole King song, “As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared, A figure gray and ghostly beneath a flowing beard, In times of deepest darkness, I’ve seen him dressed in black, Now my tapestry’s unraveling - he’s come to take me back” and @covered-byroses 3k celebration with the prompt “shadow.” Shadow here is definitely more of an abstract than physical thing. Hopefully it works. Sorry to both of you that this took approximately 8,000 years. This takes place around season 8/9 solely for the fact that I needed the antagonist to have years of pent up rage toward the Winchesters.

Closed blinds did little to shield the slivers of morning light from burning her skin. As she tossed the blankets aside, she inhaled the stagnant air and closed her eyes against the sun. Though little, it was still too much. Turning off the lone lamp she’d forgotten the night before, she slowly ambled into the bathroom, popping open the familiar bottle and downing the necessary pills dry.

A glimpse in the mirror made her shiver. Her skin pallid and pitted, eyes sunken and dark despite the fact that she hadn’t worn makeup in weeks. Wetting her toothbrush, she propped the mirror open, unable to bear the reminder. Lazily, she pulled the brush across her teeth, more a societal necessity than a want or a need. She needed to grab food and it just wasn't okay to walk out of the front door without her teeth brushed.

Clothes didn’t matter though. The gray sweat-suit she wore to bed would do just fine. She dragged her gaze over the entirety of her bedroom, searching for her purse so she could go and get this over with. When the cursory glance didn’t lead to her bag, she began go through the other rooms - the kitchen, piled high with unwashed dishes and half-eaten tv dinners, the living room, where scattered dolls and a teddy dressed in a little pink tutu sat dutifully waiting for the return of their owner, the dining room, where she could practically still see her sitting, excitedly waiting for dinner. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Shuffling toward the front door, she looked in the coat closet, finding her hobo bag dangling limply next to the small, lavender windbreaker studded with unicorns. Had she not been in such a state after coming home the night before, she would’ve noticed it here, and put her bag somewhere else. She reached into the bag and opened the glasses case, slipping the oversized sunglasses over her eyes. Just because she needed to go out didn’t mean she needed or wanted to be assaulted by the sun. Why couldn’t it just leave her alone? Steady darkness had been her comfortable umbrella for weeks. Couldn’t the light just leave her be? Darkness was an old friend.

She stepped outside and locked the door behind her before heading toward her car. As a neighbor pulled out of their driveway, she glanced at a bumper sticker that hadn’t been there before.

When life gives you more than you can stand, kneel.

“I did,” she whispered.

----

Later that night, another half-eaten tv dinner was tossed on top of the already packed garbage can. Why was she even doing this? Continuing? Was there even a point?

She went through the motions, turning on the television to watch a TV show before she pulled the covers over her body once again. But it was useless. With more purpose than she’d had in weeks, she walked into the living room and reverently picked up the tutu-wearing bear, propping it underneath her arm as she gathered the remainder of her pills from the bathroom. She’d just refilled the prescription; it would be enough.

Slipping back under the covers, she placed the bear next to where her head would lay on the pillow and reached for the pill bottle slowly, but with no hesitation.

A faint whisper emanated from the behind her, where the overwhelming shadow of her apartment fought against the moonlight coming through the once-again closed blinds.

“I can help you.” A whispery voice said, clearer than before.

“Great, I’ve lost my mind.” She heaved a heavy sigh and twisted the bottle cap open.

With a quick flap of what could only be described of as wings, a woman appeared behind her, emerging from the shadows. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly, holding up her hands as a show of her promise. “I want to help you.”

“Who the hell are you?” She asked, getting up from the bed and backing toward the corner of the room. “Why are you in my house? Get the hell out.” To her disbelief, the other woman walked toward her, through the mattress, as if she wasn’t real. “I’ve gone insane,” she said, shaking, trembling fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve lost my mind.”

“You haven’t,” she countered.

“What the hell are you then?”

“I’m a Reaper. You can call me Tessa.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “What? Like the Grim Reaper?”

The brunette, wearing an unassuming combination of a leather jacket, black tank and ripped jeans, seemingly floated toward her, smiling. Softness radiated from her, welcoming, despite the situation. “That’s what you tend to call us,” she chuckled. “But we aren’t cold, hooded, evil figures. We’re only here to help you cross.”

Cowering in the corner, a realization began to come over her. “When we die. Is that why you’re here? For me?”

“No,” she replied, moving toward the bed and grasping hold of the teddy bear. “Truthfully, you aren’t supposed to die for a long time. I’m here because I think we can help each other.”

She shook with anger. “How could you possibly help me?”

Tessa lovingly stroked the teddy bear’s head. “I can give you back what you want most.”

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes glancing quickly at the worn stuffed animal. “That’s not possible. Why would you bring her back to me if your job is to ferry people to the other side?”

“Astute,” she replied. “Strictly speaking, it’s not something we’re supposed to do. Make deals with the living that is. As Reapers, we maintain the natural order, taking souls to where they remain for eternity because if they remain on this plane, many times, most times, they turn bad, shadows of their former selves. Order is what’s important.” Tessa paused, as if carefully considering her next words. “There are two men - brothers - that over and over and over again, defy the natural order.” The reaper’s voice became louder and louder as she spoke. “They cheat death. Time and time again. Those above me, my bosses so to speak, they don’t believe I can do my job anymore. And I’m at risk of losing it. You see, this is what I am. Without it, I’m lost.”

For the first time since this strange woman entered her home, for the first time in weeks, actually, she laughed. “So you’re about to lose your job and you want revenge on the people you can’t reap? Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” She ripped the teddy bear from Tessa’s hands and clutched it to her chest. “You take innocent five-year-olds from their mothers - to give to a God that strikes down someone so small and I’m-I’m-I’m supposed to care?!” She screamed, sliding down the wall toward the floor. “You and your God can burn.” Sobbing, she buried her head into the teddy bear, ignoring the looming darkness overhead. If she was to die right now, then so be it.

“Reapers have no allegiance to God. Frankly, I think he’s a heartless bastard.” She continued matter-of-factly. “But he is who he is and our job is simply to make sure these soul’s stay pure. Some we take to heaven, some to hell. Wherever it is they belong.”

“My baby?” She asked, chancing a glance at this creature disguised as a human.

“Heaven. I promise you.” Tessa crouched down to meet the woman’s eye. “Everyone has their own personal heaven. In hers, you’re there. Playing with dolls, snuggling in bed together, reading books. She’s happy.”

She clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle another sob. “Why her? She was just a baby. Why did I have to watch her wither away? Why?”

Tessa caressed her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I don’t know. I can’t begin to understand His logic. But I can bring her back to you, just as she was, free of sickness. You can live a happy life together.”

“But you need me to kill someone.” The prospect hung heavily in the air. What did these men really do besides cheat death? Was that really such a bad thing? Wasn’t in human nature? Did they deserve to die? Her heart raced with possibilities. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Tessa held her hand out. “I’ll bring you to where her soul rests.”

Instantly, she was transported, at Tessa’s side, from her dim apartment, to a never-ending expanse filled with light. Doors came into focus. “You’re kidding,” she said. “Heaven is full of doors?” Tessa quickly walked her around corner after corner, ensuring they weren’t seen by anyone else, until they came to her door. “My baby.” Her fingers slid over the name on the door. And dates. 2008-2013.

“She’s in here,” Tessa whispered.

Beyond the blinding light, a park came into focus - one she recognized. One she’d taken her baby to time and time again. From behind the playground, she ran, screeching with delight as her mother chased after her. She barely recognized herself. “This is her heaven,” Tessa said softly, her arm link with yours, almost like a friend. “She plays with you.”

“Can she seem m-?”

“No. Not the you standing here. That one is her projection of you.”

Filled with a resolve she hadn’t know since the moment her baby was placed in her arms at the hospital five years ago, she turned to Tessa. “What do I have to do?”

Tessa smiled, a small sigh of relief escaping her. She pulled a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. “This man will come into your life. I need you to let him in. He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts. You need to be one of those people. Once you are, I need you to kill him. He disrupts the natural order, and we...have a history. He doesn’t trust me.”

“Why do I need to get him to trust me first?”

“That’s for me,” she admitted. “This history...he’s the reason I am where I am. It’s purely revenge on my part.” She loathed to admit it.

“But I-”

Exasperatedly, Tessa held the woman’s face in her hands. “He has cheated death over and over again. And your daughter couldn’t. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” she seethed, taking the paper from Tessa’s hands. “How long do I have? I’m assuming I’m on some kind of a timeline.”

“One year,” Tessa replied. “If you can’t do it, the deal is void and I’ll find someone else who can help me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise,” she whispered. Before she knew it, she was back home and Tessa was gone. Unfolding the paper, she read the seemingly innocuous name.

Dean Winchester.

----

The following morning, she woke in her apartment, the teddy bear still firmly in her grasp. “Worst dream ever,” she whispered, sitting up in bed. She glanced toward the nightstand, where a piece of paper sat. Dean Winchester.

“It wasn’t a dream?”

This man will come into your life.

So he’d just cross her path? She had to sit here and wait?

Tired and dumbfounded, she pulled the laptop toward her lap and typed in his name, searching for some record of the man she was supposed to let into her life. A few Dean Winchesters came up, a character in a book series, a teacher out of the Midwest, an escaped convict accused of killing a number of women. Wonderful. None but the convict made an impression. Could this man, doing his best impersonation of Blue Steel after being accused of murder, truly be the one who crossed a Reaper? Cheated death?

Closing the laptop, she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. What the hell was she doing? How was she supposed to kill a man? A man she didn’t even know? “No, I can’t. I can’t,” she said emphatically. “This is insane.” It wasn’t real? Right? As if to prove her wrong, she felt a darkness at her back, heavy and insistent, but leading her toward the light nonetheless.

----

For the first time in weeks, she shrugged her army green coat on and headed out to the nearest bar instead of taking a bottle home from the supermarket and falling asleep after downing near all of it. Warm light bathed her as she walked through the door and sat at the far end of the bar. Her usual bartender, Zach, seemed surprised at her presence. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. What brings you back?”

“The quality booze,” she replied dryly. Some people wanted to pour their hearts out to their bartender, not her though. “Sick of supermarket wine.”

Thankfully, he didn’t push, instead bringing over her usual. Maker’s Mark neat. Sipping, she quietly hissed the burn, its warmth feeling different now, teasing. Maybe it was the fires of hell licking at her insides for what she was contemplating, the lengths she would go to in order to see her little girl again.

The familiar, high-pitched bell chime alerted her to the presence of yet another patron of the bar. He came to sit a few seats away, ordering a whiskey on the rocks. When she looked up, she saw him. The Dean she saw in the mug shot - Mr. Blue Steel.

Tipping the rest of her drink back, she swallowed her morals down along with the booze and eyed Zach for a refill. When Blue Steel caught her eye, she smiled and gave him a soft wave. He was cute. She could do this. She had to do this. Without her baby, there was nothing. He walked over, taking a seat on the stool next to her. “Hey. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Hi, Dean,” she said softly, taking the refill from Zach’s hand. “I’m Y/N.” She frowned into her drink before she continued. “My friends and family call me Sunshine.”

----

Dean was easy to talk to; smooth, like the bourbon she’d been sipping on for near an hour. He was open yet guarded. Secrets lay behind his eyes, just as they did hers. Though they hadn't spoken for more than an hour, she could tell he’d gone through more in life than others did in 10. Behind his mega-watt, ladies man smile sat years upon years of pain. “So Dean,” she started, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. “What brings you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

“Bad day on the job...” He replied, gulping down a hefty swig of his own drink. “Really bad day. Just need to forget, you know?”

She nodded, understanding settling into the marrow of her bones. “More than you know, Dean. If you want to get anything off your chest, I’m all ears. Think of me as a sponge.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.” The nickname sounded foreign on his lips; she hadn’t heard it in so long. But from his pouty pink lips the name sounded comforting. She wanted to lean into it. “I’m not sure it’s something you would understand. I don’t mean that in bad way. Just...I don’t think you’d believe me.”

If the previous night’s happenings hadn’t occurred, she might have been shocked, but she wasn’t sure if she could be shocked now. This Tessa wanted Dean dead, so presumably Dean was involved in all manner of shit that she would’ve never imagined. “I’ve seen some shit,” she replied, tipping the last of her drink into her mouth.

Dean’s eyes scanned her quickly, as if assessing how much she’d actually seen and whether or not she could be trusted. “D’ya wanna go for a drive? There’s a lake about 10 minutes from here.”

This was stupid. Following a man she didn’t know, having seen his mugshot before, but there was an aura about Dean and it drew her in. Plus, she had to do this - for her baby. When she nodded, he held out his hand to her and smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t be a good man. Maybe she would be doing the world a favor. Something told her she wouldn’t be so lucky. As they walked to his car, she felt the darkness, the guilt, the shame, clawing at her back.

----

Outside the bar, the moon hung near full in the sky. “This is my Baby,” he said proudly, running his hand along an old Impala. “Through everything, she’s been my constant.”

Dean opened the passenger side door for her and slammed it closed before sliding into the driver’s side like a hand into a glove. She could see he was made for this car.

As the engine roared to life and they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean asked the one question she didn’t want to answer. But if she was going to get her back, she had to. “So, what brought you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

Taking a deep breath, she said her name. For the first time in almost two weeks. “My daughter.” She spoke so softly Dean almost couldn’t hear her over the rumble of the Impala’s engine. “I lost her 43 days ago. Cancer. She’d just turned five.”

“Fuck.” Dean smacked the wheel of the car. “I’m so sorry. No one should have to watch their kid go through that.”

A tear fell from her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “No, they shouldn’t. I hope you’re not a religious man, but...if God’s up there. He’s a dickhead.”

“I’m not a religious man,” he laughed dryly. “I have faith in humanity, most of the time, but God’s a vindictive asshole.”

She laughed and let her head hit the headrest just as they pulled up to the lake. The moon seemed closer here, silhouetting them as they walked toward the pier. “D’ya wanna talk about her?” He asked. “I’m all ears too.”

Sitting on a bench near the lake, she told him all about her baby girl. Her father hit it and quit it, leaving as soon as she found out she was pregnant. “I was petrified to raise her myself, but I wanted to be a mom,” she said, voice catching in her throat. “I brought her into this world by myself. I raised her myself. Worked two jobs to make sure I could give her the life she deserved. She was diagnosed with leukemia just after her 4th birthday.”

At first, she’d tried not to cry, but it was no use. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Raw still?”

“Yea.”

“I get it,” he replied, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She leaned into it, a warmth she hadn’t felt since her daughter insisted on a goodnight kiss the night God took her away. He wrapped his arm around her like this is exactly where they were supposed to be. “Anyway, she knew what was happening, even though she was so young. She was the one that kept me sane. Somehow. You wanna know what she said to me the night she died? Her last words?”

“What’d she say?”

“She’s the one who called me sunshine. She said my smile reminded her of sunshine. Before she fell asleep, she took my hand in hers and said ‘when I go to sleep, look at the sun and think of me. Then I’ll be with you every day.’”

She heard Dean sniffle and turned her head to see a tear fall from his eye. “It sounds like she was wise beyond her years.”

“She was.” Shaking her head, she pulled herself together and changed the subject. “What about you? What happened on the job that brought you to a random bar in the middle of the night?”

He was hesitant at first, asking if she believed in things that others thought impossible - ghosts, vampires, demons. Before Tessa, she would’ve said no, but now it seemed plausible. “I do.”

“I hunt them. The things that go bump in the night that no one believes in. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

Her heart ached for him. Only a tragedy could get a young boy into such a horrific line of work.

“Tonight, my brother and I lost a father and son because we couldn’t move fast enough.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she said softly. She felt this innate desire to comfort him, to tell him he’d probably done all he could, but something in her told her Dean wasn’t the kind of man to rid himself of guilt with so few words. He carried it with him. “I really am.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.”

----

For the first time in weeks, she awoke the next morning to the burn of the sun, but her instinct wasn’t to shield her gaze. Instead, she craned her neck backward, hair slipping against the cool leather of Dean’s jacket. They’d fallen asleep on the bench. “Morning, Sunshine,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean for us to fall asleep on a park bench.”

“Me either,” she replied honestly. “But honestly it’s been the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

Dean grumbled in agreement. Apparently, he wasn’t much of a morning person. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

She hesitated a moment before her stomach entered the conversation. “I’d like that.”

At the diner, she ordered bacon and eggs and toast to Dean’s pancakes and bacon. Then they ordered an extra side of bacon to split because neither could get enough bacon. They didn’t speak another word of her daughter or his job. “Favorite color?” He asked. “Mine’s red.”

“Green. Three favorite foods? Obviously bacon is one.”

“Pizza and a big fat juicy burger.”

“Pizza and bacon, and then probably really good sushi.”

Dean made a face and they laughed. He liked grade-B horror movies and Disney movies, though he wouldn’t admit to the latter to many. She loved psychological thrillers and gross out comedies. “The really stupid ones that make you question your intelligence,” she laughed. “I like turning my brain off.”

As they paid, Dean pulled her close. “Maybe one day, we can watch one of those together. Order a pizza.”

“Meat lover’s?” She offered, handing him her phone so he could give her his number.

His smile shone brighter than the morning’s sunrise. “Is there any other kind?”

With ease, they strode out of the diner and back into the worn leather seats of the Impala. She still didn’t know this man, not really. He was a monster-hunting, leather jacket-wearing lover of bacon, pizza, crappy horror and Disney, but she didn’t know him. Yet, she gave him her address without a thought and allowed him to walk her to her front door. “Sunshine, with my job, my brother and I are kinda all over the place, but I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s more than okay with me.”

Dean returned her soft smile and slipped his fingers between hers, tugging her gently until her lips were mere millimeters from his. She glanced at them, inviting him to kiss her. Whatever she imagined him doing, he took her by surprise, pressing the most of chaste of kisses to her lips before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you soon, Sunshine. Okay?” He squeezed her hands in his, a further affirmation of his promise.

When he began to walk away, she called after him. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Anytime.”

----

It was nearly two and a half weeks before they saw each other again, but in the time apart, they texted and called nearly every day, each time letting the other in on a little more of who they truly were outside of their first meeting. “What do you miss most about being a kid?” He asked, voice low and whispery.

“Sam sleeping?”

“Yea,” he replied with a yawn. “I’m not tired yet.”

“You sound it,” she said. “Would it be too cliche to say not having to pay bills?”

Dean chuckled. “Yes, I mean something that tells me something about you.”

“There was a lake nearby my house when I was a kid. Well, not nearby, more like a couple hours away. But my parents would take me there a couple times a year. We’d build sand castles and look for seashells. I miss that. What about you?”

“I didn’t really have much a childhood. I was learning how to hunt before I turned 10. When we were young though, I read to Sammy a lot. Help him get to sleep, you know? I miss that.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t be. It’s in the past.” This time he yawned so hard he could no longer deny that he needed to pass out for the night. “We’ll be passing through in a couple of days. Can I take you on an actual date?”

Smiling sadly to herself, she rested her hand over her tightening chest. “Looking forward to it.”

----

As promised, Dean showed up at her door two days later with a bouquet of flowers in hand. “How did you know these are my favorite?” She asked, inhaling the sweet scent.

“Educated guess. Now, we’re gonna go to one of my favorite burger joints-bar-tavern things in the area. They have this killer bacon cheeseburger with an egg grilled into the middle of it that you have to try. They also have pool, so I can teach you how to play.”

During one of their nightly phone calls, she asked them how they made a living doing what they did. Hustling pool, the occasional credit card fraud. You know, the usual, he’d laughed.

You’ll have to teach me.

“Sounds amazing.”

Reaching into the closet for her jacket, she glanced at the small purple coat, still hanging there, and felt her heart skip a beat. How was she able to go out and smile and have fun barely two months after losing a piece of her heart? It felt so wrong. And yet being with Dean felt so right, so natural.

He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts.

She swallowed back bile and quickly pulled her jacket out, closing the door against realizations and realities she couldn’t indulge. Plastering a fake smile across her face, she slipped the jacket over her shoulders and allowed herself to believe for one moment that life wasn’t as cruel as it seemed to be.

----

“Sunshine, I think you might be the perfect woman,” Dean laughed.

At that moment, she was acutely aware of the grease running down her chin. “What this whole, chipmunk look with food in my mouth, guzzling beer is a turn on for you?”

Dean licked his lips and took another bite of his own burger. “Yup.”

“I can’t help it, this might be the best burger I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.”

“I told you,” he laughed. It didn’t take long for them to finish their food. “Burger is filling, but they have killer pie too. Wanna split a piece?”

She nodded and watched as Dean easily flagged down the waitress and asked for slice of “good ol’ apple.” “The best one they have, followed closely by cherry.”

Dean looked horrified when she grimaced. “Not a big cherry fan. Blueberry, peach, apple. That’s about it on the fruit pies.”

Less than two minutes after the pie came to the table, it was gone. “We should probably go,” Dean said, craning his head back to the door where a line of hungry dinner guests were waiting. “I think our waitress might kill us if we stay any longer.”

Chuckling, you stood up and reached for your wallet before Dean insisted he pay. “First date, remember?”

“Thanks, Dean.”

Hand in hand, they walked out the diner and toward the Impala. It was so easy to be with him and more often than not he found herself smiling when he was nearby. But she didn’t have the luxury of falling in love, not if it meant she never got to see her daughter again.

Tessa said he needed to trust her before...before she did it. “Up for a surprise?” She asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “Sure, I never get surprises anymore. Where to?”

Without telling Dean what she was up to, she directed him where to go. Less than five minutes later, she approached a park - the same one she used to take her daughter to. “I used to take my daughter here,” she said, zoning off as a vibrant picture played before her eyes. A little girl in a yellow dress ran across the grass and toward her favorite slide. “Sorry. Got lost in a memory.”

Dean’s easy-going smile from earlier faded away when he saw the sadness in her eyes. “We don’t have to be here,” he offered, looking back toward the car.

“No, it’s okay.” It really wasn’t. But it was a reminder of why she was here, why she was doing exactly what she was doing despite the darkness eating at her from the inside out. “I wanted to share. There’s no one here at night.”

Dean chuckled and pulled her in to kiss her before running onto the playground set like a giant child. He ran up the metal slide and stuck his head out through a tube. “Come on! Let’s play!”

Allowing herself the opportunity to let go, if only for a moment, she ran up to meet him and chased him around the small area before she tripped and fell, bringing her down with him. “Been a while since I’ve been a kid,” he said, helping her up. They sat on the wood mulch of the playground underneath the slide and he pulled her close. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” For a moment, she hesitated. “You said you used to read to Sam right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did anyone ever read to you?” When she looked back, she saw sadness in his eyes. “No?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Close your eyes.”

Without hesitation, his eyelids fluttered closed. She reached into her pocket for her phone, hand shaking at the intimacy of the moment and the pain she felt. As she read - Vonnegut, considering he’d mentioned it in passing during one of their phone calls - he relaxed into her. Eventually, his head lay in her lap, her fingers twirling his messy brown locks. Hours passed. The only reason either noticed was due to the placement of the moon, now bouncing off the slide and onto the metal of a nearby bench.

Dean sat up, sleep pulling at his eyes as he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sunshine. I can’t remember the last time I felt that relaxed.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, softly. “Me either.”

----

Two months passed before they saw one another again, but not a day went by with at least a text. Sometimes it was just “I’m okay. Still alive,” other days they were able to actually talk, asking each other the most random questions in an attempt to know one another inside and out. “Hey, Sunshine,” Dean said as she opened the door.

Smiling, she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, his lips finding hers. “Hello to you to, Dean. I’ve missed you.” In the months since they’d seen each other, she’d made an attempt to clean her home. TV dinners were no longer piled up in the kitchen. Garbage was taken out when it needed to be. Occasionally, she would even open the blinds. Still, her daughter’s bear sat on the windowsill as a reminder of what she needed to do.

Dean was unlike any other man she’d ever met and with him, she found herself content, even happy. But what did that say, if she allowed herself the happiness her little girl never got to experience?

“Now, I know I said a couple days ago that we’d go get a bite to eat, maybe take a drive, but then I got an idea. Trust me?” There was a boyish glint in his eyes she couldn’t deny.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw him remove a blindfold from his back pocket. “Kinky!”

“Not like that...not yet,” he replied, eyes full of hope.

Dean wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and led her to the car. He would entertain a single question about where they were headed until shortly later, he stopped, picked her up out of the passenger seat and placed her on the ground before removing the material covering her eyes. “We’re at the beach,” she whispered in disbelief. “You remembered.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, emotion running wild. Despite the beautiful weather, the shadows nipped at her feet.

“Of course.” He crouched down to kiss her and wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I made macaroni salad, pie, and I brought all the fixings for the perfect burger, which I can make on this.” He pulled out a small grill. “My George Foreman! This is the best thing in the world.”

As promised, Dean made delicious bacon cheeseburgers with a runny egg in the middle, just as they’d had at the diner months before. After every ounce of red meat was gone, they walked along the beach, toes in the sand and looked for seashells. Given that the nearest real beach was hundreds of miles away, seashells were a rarity, but it was perfect nonetheless.

The sun began to set, blue giving way to purples and pinks as they swayed together on the beach. “My place,” Dean started, “The place I share with my brother between cases, it’s about a half hour from here, do you want to-?”

“Really?” She asked. Her stomach dropped. He trusted her. Enough to bring her home, to the place he shared with his brother, the only other person in world he cared for. “You sure?”

“I am.”

If only she was too.

----

Despite how much Dean talked about him, Sam wasn’t what she expected him to be. She grasped his outstretched hand and feigned shyness, unable to look him in the eye knowing what she would eventually do. “Dean talks about you all the time,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I knew you had to be some kind of woman.”

“Dean’s told me a lot about you. Mostly good,” she replied with a smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Sam.”

After she said goodnight, Dean led her down the wide hallways of what they called “the bunker,” his hand heavy and insistent on the small of her back. Inside, he backed her up against the wall, against the shadows, and captured her lips in a kiss so delicate and sincere she would’ve collapsed were it not for him.

In spite of herself, she sunk into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed. He trusted her. She knew it in the way he touched her, moaned her name, drank her in. But mostly she knew it in the way he fell asleep peacefully at her side that night.

----

On the morning after their night together, Dean had practically begged her to move into the bunker. “When you leave, I miss you. I hate...being without you.”

She’d been hesitant, but with each excuse he’d countered it. “You make me happy, Sunshine.”

Everything in her had screamed to run, but the earnestness in his gaze pulled her in and she’d complied. While they were away on cases, she would walk around the bunker, gaining more and more insight into the man she’d fallen in love with. Tessa had to be wrong. Dean was a good man - the best she’d ever met.

Screaming into the cold concrete walls of the bunker, she called for Tessa. “I know you’re watching me, you bitch! Answer me!” She slammed her fists against the wall, but no amount of pain could make her feel. “Where the fuck are you?!”

Barreling through the halls like a storm, she gasped when she turned the corner to see her there - the same determination emanating from her as the night they’d met. “Having second thoughts?”

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, falling to her knees in front of the reaper. “Dean is not the man you think he is. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Disdain radiated from each word. “You only know the man he claims to be.”

“No! I know him. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He does what he does for love. And if he crossed you it’s because you deserved it.” Tears streamed down her face.

Tessa’s gaze melted from soft and endearing into furious and frightening in a matter of seconds. Picking her up by the throat, Tessa tossed her back against the wall. “You’ll follow through on our deal or I will alter it. Get rid of him and you will get your daughter back. She’ll be just as she was and the two of you will live a happy life together. Go back on your promise to me and I will make sure your daughter’s spirit rots in hell for the rest of eternity!”

Sobbing, she clawed at Tessa’s hands. “My daughter did nothing to deserve this! You-”

“BUT DEAN HAS!” She bellowed so loudly it felt as if the walls shook. “And I will use whoever and whatever I need to make him pay.”

“You can’t. You said yourself your bosses don’t trust you anymore!”

“True.” She spoke coolly, her fury gone and replaced with something along the razor’s edge of composure. “But they want Dean dead as badly as I do, if not for the same reasons. Get rid of him, Sunshine,” she said mockingly. “Or I will find someone who will and your daughter will burn.” Without another word, she left her trembling on the floor of the bunker, shadows closing in from every angle.

----

As the weeks passed into months, she awoke each night, screaming, picturing her daughter calling out for her from the fires of hell, begging for her to save her. Dean would lull her back to sleep with made-up stories he used to tell Sam and fervent kisses that said what he couldn’t.

With the deadline looming large, she tried to think of any way to get the job done. At first, she thought of drugging him with pills. An entire bottle would do the trick and he would fall asleep not knowing the monster that shared his bed, but Tessa wouldn’t allow it, appearing to her again. “I can’t get near him, but you can.”

She was in over her head. Her choices were slim. Either tell Dean, bear the brunt of his hatred and never see her daughter again, or do as Tessa commanded, hate herself and save her daughter’s damned soul. Self-hatred streamed through her veins, but she had no choice.

What started as “kill him in whatever way you can” had morphed into Tessa brandishing a knife she was to use. Every time she tried, pulled the knife from her pocket and attempted to do the unthinkable, she saw his green eyes fade away into darkness. For weeks, she made herself ill, throwing up every day and shivering to sleep in Dean’s embrace at night.

Dean thought she’d been cursed as a way to hurt him, but they couldn’t find any evidence. They’d taken her to the hospital, but unsurprisingly she’d had a clean bill of health. Only she knew the cause of her pain.

“Come on, Sunshine” he said excitedly, “I have a surprise for you.”

Taking his hand, she followed him out of the bunker to a clearing in a forest just a short way away, where he had another picnic, like the one so many months before, set up underneath the stars. “It’s been 11 months since the first night we met. I probably should’ve waited for a full year, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Awash in darkness, she began to cry. He pulled her close and they began to sway, a clumsy dance that brought a smile to his face. There was no time left. Reaching into her pocket, she grasped the handle of the knife. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Before she could stop herself, she plunged the blade into his chest.

He grabbed the blade, hissing in pain as she pulled herself away. “Why?” He choked, hands shaking around the knife’s handle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she sobbed, backing away. “I had no choice.”

A moment years in the making, Tessa made herself known, kicking his phone away before he could call for help. “How does it feel, Dean? Knowing the woman you love betrayed you?”

With a self-satisfied smile, she disappeared momentarily, only to reappear with her baby girl at her side. Dean made the connection. “I could’ve helped you. I would’ve...I-”

Tessa ushered her away, demanding she run as Dean fell to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, holding her daughter tight to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I’m okay.” She remembered nothing.

Through the tear-stained forest, Sunshine ran from the light - the memories of Dean’s touch, his soothing voice, his gentle kiss - and into the darkness, her constant.

#i lied to stu #cbr's 3k celebration #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #dontshootmespence #as i watched in sorrow

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shatterflowerdemon · 3 years

Text

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."

#my work #undertale #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction #self insert #gender neutral reader #sans #Papyrus #Ink sans #Error Sans

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wannabetwins · 3 years

Text

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much... before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. "Maybe it's a lint mutation!" Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin.... The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Despite the sting of the heat, his fingertips pressed into the ceramic mug in a last attempt to keep his composure. But it was too late. He had reached the end of his tether, and his brain was beginning to tatter.

“Hey, clean freak,” Yooha’s usually unwelcomed voice slashed through the muddled swirl of Taehee’s angry thoughts. The latter looked up, finding the fox waving his open palm in front of him. “What’s with that face?”

“What?” Taehee rasped, brows furrowing in annoyance. He could already sense the stupid comment on his upturned lips.

“Usually, when you drink your coffee, you turn all pensive—like an old man,” Yooha shrugged. He took a casual sip of his wine. What lunatic even drank this early? “But you looked really pissed just now.”

Taehee blew out a sharp huff. If this fox knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. Anger was coursing through his veins and Taehee had been wound up too tight; he was this close to snapping.

“Oi. Kim Taehee. You okay? Why aren’t you—”

“I can’t...” Taehee mumbled through his gritted teeth.

“—drinking your coffee?”

“I CAN’T!”

Taehee’s shout echoed in the empty living room, and for the first time Yooha actually looked a little scared of him. The fox’s speechlessness made an awkward silence settle between the two as Taehee mentally berated himself for losing control over his temper like that. He had to stay calm. Be calm. Calm...

“Woah… yeah you’re definitely not okay. Wanna talk about it?”

The sound of Yooha’s voice ignited yet another spark of rage within him, and before he could do something else he would regret, Taehee grabbed his cup and emptied its tainted contents into the sink.

Yooha gaped at him expectantly, though a trace of awe and fear were still visible between his furrowed brows. He probably thought Taehee was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, God...Taehee hoped he didn’t go into one of his rambles praising his own wisdom guised as shoddy advice. Not now.

However, the goblin was saved from such torture by the soft pad of footsteps down the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling.”

MC’s voice drifted from the stairs, and soon she came into view, bed head still fresh and her eyes smaller than usual, groggy with sleep. Taehee’s heart gave a small leap in response. As usual.

And apparently, it wasn’t alone.

The fox perked up, sitting straighter in his seat and his previously lazy demeanor turning almost puppy-like.

“Ah, MC,” he said, a grin now stretching across his lips. Taehee barely held back his own smile at her presence which now whittled away at his annoyance. “Good morning! Did you dream of me?”

Taehee rolled his eyes at Yooha’s unnecessary wink. MC was equally unamused, tired as she was, though she did spare him a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure did,” she replied with a brief smile, before her attention turned to Taehee. It was strange how easily she could calm him down. Just one look from her and he felt his breathing start to slow down, and the angry, scrambled thoughts in his mind began to scatter. All that was left was a pounding in his chest as he met her concerned stare.

“Is… everything okay?”

With practised ease, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, erasing any and all traces of irritation from his face. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” Yooha snorted. “This guy nearly had an aneurysm.”

“What?” MC said, her gaze once again snapping towards the goblin. His cheeks heated under the sudden scrutiny.

Feeling slightly embarrassed now at the reason behind his outburst, he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no,” he stammered. “I’m really fine. I’m just… feeling off this morning.”

The girl seemed unconvinced. Her eyes drifted to the dumped coffee in the sink, and Taehee could practically see the calculations behind her forehead.

Abruptly, MC turned to the fox. “Yooha,” she began, startling when he suddenly transported behind her back.

Taehee’s skin tingled when the man slid his arms around her waist.

“Yes, MC?” Yooha hummed.

She promptly swatted his hands away. Taehee smirked in amusement...or maybe triumph.

“Did you make him mad again?” she went on.

Yooha stumbled back in offense, hand over his chest. Dramatic…

“What? No!”

MC crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she flayed him with a hard, interrogative stare.

Yooha let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t! Really!”

He glanced at Taehee, no doubt to clear his name. The latter pursed his lips. Should he clear the air? Technically, Yooha did add to his frustration. His presence alone could sour Taehee’s mood considerably any day, and especially today.

In the span of silence he took to think, MC seemed to interpret it as a confirmation of Yooha’s guilt, and his sentence was passed immediately.

“Go on, apologise to Taehee. You two should make up and at least try to get along.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Yooha argued, genuinely looking quite upset now. Even MC seemed to be surprised by his reaction.

“Master, you don’t believe me? That’s hurtful…”

And then it happened.

Like a snake, his nine tails unfurled behind him one after another, practically glowing with the blindingly white sheen of his fur.

White. Fur.

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, the source of his nightmares for the past week right under his nose and Taehee hadn’t so much as noticed.

He should’ve known. Ever since that stupid fox materialized from that scroll, nothing and no one else in this house rattled him as much as he could.

And at this very moment, he was downright pissed.

He hadn’t even realized his outstretched hand. His tense fingers were bent into a claw, ready to strangle one of the nine hydras sweeping through the air, further tainting the cleanliness of the house with those loose strands of white.

Rage coursed through his veins, and somehow, his magic followed suit with blue fire flaring into the center of his palm. Taehee hadn’t meant to move his hand any closer to the infuriating white fur. But his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and little by little, those flames licked perilously close to the thin strands until…

“OW!!”

Taehee recoiled as the sharp sound pierced his ears, his anger subsiding enough for him to return to the present moment. He saw MC’s reaction first. Her eyes were wide in shock, and her mouth was frozen in a perfect “o.”

When his gaze fell on the fox again, the tails had vanished. Yooha was storming over to him, anger etched on his usually laidback face. He looked feral.

“Did you seriously just try to burn my tails? Kim Taehee!”

Taehee knew he should apologise. Clearly he was in the wrong here. But his mouth began flapping, retorts bubbling in his throat, unable to restrain himself in front of the fox. Especially when he was the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

“Would you prefer for me to shave them clean instead? Since you’re shedding anyway.”

“You-” Yooha’s voice cut off, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Me? Shedding? What do you think I am? A common dog?”

“No,” Taehee returned with more composure than he felt. “Dogs are more likeable.”

“Why, you—” Yooha began, though he stopped himself again. His fist was balled tightly at his side, but he seemed to have enough restraint to keep it there. A tense breath wisped from his lips. “Look, you’re having a bad morning. I get it. But just because MC likes my tails more than you doesn’t mean you can abuse your magic fire trick.”

Several unintelligible syllables spluttered from Taehee’s mouth.

Words...he needed to use words.

“MC doesn’t— Fire trick? You don’t—”

No, no… sentences. He needed sentences. But his brain was too muddled with his emotions, and that stupid simper on the fox’s face was only making it worse.

“Or maybe… If you wanted to touch my tail so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Taehee was about to open his mouth again when MC’s face appeared in his line of sight, blocking the fox from his view.

“Enough, both of you. It’s too early in the morning for this, let’s just stop here, okay?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who resorted to violence,” Yooha added stubbornly, shooting a glare in Taehee’s direction.

“It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you would’ve cleaned after yourself,” he spat. To emphasize his point, he swiped his hand over his sleeve, sending a few tufts of white fluttering into the air.

Yooha squinted at the hair, his features once again contorting in offense. “You think that hair is mine? Is that what this is all about?”

“Think?” Taehee scoffed. “I think we all saw how much hair fell off that fur trap of yours.”

MC groaned and flopped back onto an empty chair. “Guys, can we not—”

“This,” Yooha interrupted, holding up his pinched fingers where Taehee assumed he had caught one of his hairs, “is not mine. Look how coarse and short this is! My fur is softer and longer than this—and whiter!”

“You can’t compare anything when you can barely see that hair between your fingers.”

“Maybe you can’t, since it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your eyes.”

“Oh? Let’s pluck out some of your hair and check then.”

“What? You think this is some kind of game? My tails aren’t for you to screw around with!”

“You always take them out when MC is here anyway. Like a dog wagging its tail for its master.”

“You- Did you just call me a dog again?”

“So on top of excessive shedding you can’t hear right either? Maybe it’s time to take you to a vet.”

“I told you that fur isn’t mine! I’m not shedding!”

Taehee slammed his palm onto the counter. His adrenaline was waning, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee. He was getting more exasperated by the second...

“Then what?” he sighed. “Do we suddenly have a cat in the house or something?”

A soft meow interrupted the growing tension between them, and both men turned to MC who was still innocently sitting at the table.

Yooha clicked his tongue, a smile unbefitting of the situation rapidly overtaking his previous scowl. “That was cute, MC, but this is serious,” he said. His palm rested against her mussed hair. “My honor is at stake here.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Yeah MC, I know you’re trying to help us but we need to work this out,” Taehee added, slapping Yooha’s hand away from her head.

She huffed and pushed both of their hands away from her face. “Guys, I said it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah.” A tuft of red hair appeared from the corner of Taehee’s eye. Biho shuffled meekly into the kitchen, and three pairs of eyes followed him curiously. “It was me.”

Yooha’s gaze shifted from Biho to Taehee, then back to the younger goblin. “You...meowed?”

The redhead’s chest heaved in a deep, forlorn sigh. He pressed a hand over his heart and shook his head. “I am deeply sorry for my actions. I didn’t intend for it to go this far.”

“What are you talking about Biho…” Taehee’s voice trailed off when they heard another meow. The younger goblin’s mouth was closed however, and the sound seemed to be coming from his head.

Was this a new power? Taehee had never seen anything like it. Hansol never mentioned anything about Biho’s new ability either.

However, the explanation for the strange occurrence soon made itself known… with its tiny, white ears peeking over Biho’s bright red hair.

Another one of his doleful sighs filled the stunned silence in the room. “I woke up and heard you guys arguing about Yooha shedding.”

“Like I said, I’m not—” Taehee slapped his hand over Yooha’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to listen to Biho instead of that annoying fox’s voice.

“I think it was actually this kitten’s fur… Sorry Taehee, I know it’s been bothering you this whole week.”

Taehee deflated half in relief and half in exhaustion. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?”

“I was going to, but then you looked very angry about the hair, and I thought you would ask me to get rid of it.” Biho picked up the kitten from his hair and carefully placed it in his arms, cradling it like it was a baby. In return, the kitten nuzzled its face against his hoodie.

“Where did you even get it from? Did you buy it?” Yooha asked, defensively raising a hand up in case Taehee tried to physically shut him up again.

“I found it by the road on the way home,” he replied. “It was in a box all alone and it was raining. It looked like it had been abandoned, and I couldn’t leave it there like that.” His eyes drooped, his gaze turning sad as he gently stroked the kitten in his arms.

MC cooed at the explanation, joining the coddling of the little animal.

Taehee admitted it was touching...and understandable knowing Biho’s story. Still, the fur sticking to the younger goblin’s sleeve was giving him a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Biho,” he began, making sure his voice was gentle lest he upset him with what he had to say. “What you did was good. You probably saved its life, but…”

“We can’t keep it,” Yooha interrupted bluntly, earning him a slap upside the head. And it wasn’t even from Taehee this time.

“Hey,” MC hissed, casting a worried glance towards Biho.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed to expect this. Slowly, he nodded, though he cradled the kitten a little closer to his chest. “I know,” he said. “But can we keep him until we find him a home?”

Taehee opened his mouth to protest but MC held her hand up, no doubt guessing his answer.

“Of course we can,” she said. “We can post it online. I’m sure we can find someone.”

Biho shot her a grateful smile. “Could you help me with that?”

“Sure!” MC jumped up with a grin, before pausing. “Give me ten minutes. I should brush my teeth and wash my face first.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”

Then the both of them left, although MC made sure to elbow Taehee in the side. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she wanted him to do next.

An awkward silence settled once more, now that it was just him and Yooha left in the kitchen. Briefly, he made eye contact with the fox, and Taehee fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted they would be able to make up even after this.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” Yooha asked with his chin up. Taehee wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk from his face. But a wrong was a wrong, and he knew what he should do as the more mature one between them.

“Fine. The hair wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you shed. A lot.”

Silence. Presumably, Yooha was attempting to choose his words carefully, lest another argument broke out. He sighed heavily before speaking again. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“I did apologise. But I also stated a fact. I clean your closet, you know. Your hairballs are disgusting.”

“I’ll have you know that my tails are amongst the most beautiful—”

“Just make sure you clean up after yourself from now on,” Taehee said, turning to leave. “Or I will personally shave you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yooha narrowed his eyes. “A mere goblin like you? Hah.”

“Hm. But a fox like you can’t disobey its master, right? All I need is to get MC to agree to it.”

Taehee felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Yooha’s confident smile falter. Having said his piece, he turned and left for his room, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he heard his name echo angrily behind him.

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #kim taehee #wannabe challenge yooha #wannabe challenge biho #kang biho #wannabe challenge fanfic #prank war #taehee #biho #yooha

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phantasmalduelist · 4 years

Photo

We’re going down, down, down (unless you have wings)

Nights on Amnoon were always busy. The streets became packed with visitors and locals as dusk arrived. The mingling of smells was intoxicating—incense and cigarettes filled people's nostrils almost instantly. For some it was too much and coughing fits were common. A sharp sound in the midst of pouring crowds.

The chatter of the evening was often animated and vivacious. Much more now that the Grand Sahil Casino was throwing a coin hunt; people laughed and stumbled over each other. The air was thick with life.

But unfortunately it was not a feeling shared by everyone.

Camélia was leaning against one of the walls at the back of the casino, her eyes followed the trails of smoke. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered trying to be social at all. Her off-hand responses and her spacing out were always met with an accusation of "superiority complex", when in truth it was just hard for her to gather enough words in a world of too many sensations. Most that she had avoided for over four hundred years.

Losing touch. She bit her lip.

"Hey, Mélia, you hiding or something?" Val Ima Astre's voice cut her thoughts short. For better or for worse.

"I'm standing against a wall. That's hardly hiding." Camélia pressed her lips together and huffed.

"Bitey. Why are you so sour?" She intruded right into Camélia's personal space. Val Ima Astre's eyes could be a little unsettling at times, especially if she was trying to figure something out.

"I am always like this," Camélia simply said. She wasn't the biggest fan of Astre's obsessive moods.

"Yeah, but there's like. A surly note in that voice." She tapped her fingers against her legs.

"I had no idea you were an expert on my behavior." She frowned.

Val Ima Astre rubbed her chin. "It's part of an archangel's job to document things."

"You're a lightbearer, not a fucking scientist." She wrinkled her nose and pushed Astre back. "Or were. Whatever happened to your position since you just decided to leave. Again."

"I've been there for… Blessed Light knows how long." Val Ima Astre lamented almost comically. "They don't need me on duty to save the universe. All the time."

Camélia snorted. "I thought you wanted to be one of the fancy senate leaders of the intergalactic-kiss-ass-union?"

It was almost instant. The change of posture. The change of tone. Camélia knew all too well about the weight on Astre's shoulders and yet for some reason she still prodded it.

Perhaps they were both obsessive in their own way.

"I tried it, but it was just empty." Val Ima Astre's wings dropped lower. "It's an important job. An honor even. Mirea Fai Meda hated my brilliant strategic mind, I'm just prefacing that, but she was right. I'm too much of an egocentric weirdo for the job."

Val Ima Astre was now leaning against the wall too, her shoulders somewhat slumped. The silence within the deafening noise of the casino was a cutthroat meeting; a turbulent rise of words skipping between smiles and surly whispers. Between understanding and disagreeing. Between different languages and different flavors.

Out of place. Sugar and spice.

"The best years of my life were making your life hell." Val Ima Astre's gaze was fixated on the ceiling. A salacious smile creeping up on her face.

A weirdo, indeed.

Camélia threw her head back in uproarious laughter, but she hit the wall a little too hard. She cursed herself for being so awkwardly clumsy at times—maybe she, too, ended up being a weirdo. All the finesse and pretense were a long gone song. "Hrgh. Seems like you're still making my life hell, angel." She rubbed the back of her skull.

Val Ima Astre guffawed. She pushed herself off the wall and flapped her wings. "Ohhhh fuck. Do you need some healing?"

"You're not a healer, you stupid divine smiter." Camélia glared.

"Are you insulting the archangels' training in medical prowess?" Val Ima Astre placed a hand over her heart and gasped.

"You clearly failed that course," Camélia retorted.

"Are you still mad I cut your arm off?"

"Imagine if that was my head." Camélia was thankful that medicine at large was far more advanced than what you'd find in Tyria. Or else her arm would have been a goner. "No regenerator could put that back together."

"Oh c'mon. I'm not gonna vaporize your head!!" Val Ima Astre gestured a bit too wildly. Her wings dusting off the floor.

"No is no," Camélia said.

"Can I kiss it better then? I promise I won't poke the crystals on your face."

Camélia let out a deep breath through her nose. Despite her ticked off scales she nodded with a rather silly eye roll. "Fine."

Val Ima Astre cupped her face gently and for a few moments Camélia was petrified. The silence dragged longer than it was necessary; something about Astre's silent presence always made her rattled. In a strange pleasant way. It was not because she disliked the woman's tangents. (Not that Camélia would ever admit it.) But it was unusual. The moments she had seen her dead serious left her somewhat curious for more.

Unlike the empty silence of discomfort, this one felt like a conversation. A soul searching gaze. Camélia fought the urge to look away.

Soulmates. Of some twisted fate.

The Archangel's argent halo glowed against the purple hues of the Captain's brand. A reminder of how much things had changed.

"You still know what a head is, right?" Camélia finally said.

But all she was met with were supple lips against her own. Light and darkness always crossing paths despite everything. As sure as the suns dying out in forgotten galaxies. As sure as the six thousand years behind them both.

Camélia pushed forward and deepened the kiss, earning a soft gasp from Val Ima Astre. Her sharp fangs grazed against her lips. Silver blood glowed so familiarly.

They always ended up stepping on each other's toes. And with their tongues in each other's mouths.

"That's… not my head."

Soft fingers intertwined.

"I know."

Foreheads touched.

"You're insane."

As sure as the stars in the night sky. They would meet again and again. Until the end. If there was ever to be one.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #Camélia Nightingale #Human (♢)#half-alien #Val Ima Astre #Seraphim (♢)#my writing #fanlore #stories

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 years

Text

Mermaid Magic (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N: Apparently, if you want something done, you better do it yourself (note: not done well. just done). Based off the amazing idea where MC is a mermaid and Colt is an idiot from @escanorelyon, here. Thank you for letting me write this and for coming up with such a delicious concept. Anyone, if you want to put your own spin on the idea, I would love to see what you come up with! Tag me!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~3,000 words

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (Swearing?)

Summary: Is the surprise that there’s a mermaid? Or is the surprise that it takes him so long to figure it all out?

The plunge is weightless, terrifyingly familiar, and his swift reentry to earth, via splash into the Pacific so deep his ears roar with the pressure, never fails to take his breath away. As Colt kicks back to the surface, salt water around him churning with every stroke, he can almost pretend it has taken his stress away, a complete distraction from the rationale behind his trip to LA.

He emerges and shakes the sea from his hair, swiping at the water dripping from his nose and tonguing at his tingling lips. It’s peaceful here, tranquil, miles away from the confrontation he knows awaits. The cliff had always been the opposite of his home life, peace instead of strife, calm instead of stress, and the trips had always been a respite from the turmoil of his youth. After being forced to make the leap time and time again, he came to see this place as a haven of solitude, where he could be alone and process whatever shithole situation he was currently in.

A sudden splash to his left makes him realize his thoughts of solitude were ill-informed.

“Hello?” He spins, water rippling around him, eyes darting around the surface to assess whatever danger lay beneath.

But it doesn’t look like danger as a face slowly comes into view, chestnut hair slowly rising through the sea. She blinks at him, eyes glowing almost otherworldly in the sunlight, and she purses her lips. She looks wary, scared, as if he was the one who impinged on her peaceful time. “Hi.”

“How the hell did you get here?” He cranes his neck up at the cliff; there were no other cars there when he arrived and he sure as hell would have heard someone else diving into the water. And it’s inaccessible from the sides, cliff towering over them, steep rock jutting out in treacherous points, against which the Pacific crashed in rhythmic pulses booming into the sea air. “This is my spot.”

Her plush lips fall open. “Your spot?” she sputters incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was eight.”

“I’ve been coming here forever. You don’t own this spot, you utter buffoon!” She swims closer, glaring at him, and, had he less experience in dealing with the rage of others, he might have stood down; however, her anger only fuels his.

“How did you even get here? I was swimming here first.”

“You don’t own the sea and you were not here first!” Her movements are choppy with anger as she gets closer, but Colt doesn’t retreat, treading water and glaring defiantly back. “I’ve been here…” Her diatribe fades into the surf as he notices that she is being followed, graceful teal fin swimming after her, flapping over the water.

“Umm, “ he interrupts, “something’s behind you.”

“What?” She spins, and the tail does too, swirling around her, too close to be a normal fish. It doesn’t look like a normal anything, swaying just over the waves, matching her every motion movement-for-movement.

His heart stops and, before he can think, he ducks under the water, eyes stinging as he forces them open. It has to be a trick of the light, some weird fever dream. Maybe he died leaping from the cliff. Maybe he isn’t even in LA, instead still lying in his dorm room having talked himself out of this adventure of paternal reunion. Because anything would make more sense than what he was seeing.

For, in front of his eyes, there is a fucking tail where her legs should be, swirling gracefully and leaving tiny ripples in its wake. The scales glisten, catching the sunlight filtering through the ocean, and it is strangely compelling: unnatural, alien, gorgeous. He opens his mouth and swallows a gulp of salt water, sputtering to the surface to hack and cough and try to get air to his lungs.

When he can finally see again, she is gaping at him, eyes wide, breath coming in uncertain pants. “Wait…” she murmurs weakly, “I can explain-”

“Oh my God.” He can barely believe his eyes but, at the terrified look on her face, he realizes he wasn’t seeing things. “You’re a mermaid.”

~~~~~

The plan had been simple: get to LA, go to the sideshow, have the requisite argument with his father, probably punctuated by a screaming match at the garage, and then fight his way into the crew and prove his worth.

But everything had changed after his leap into the water, when he had met a goddamned mermaid, a fucking sea creature, floating outside the PCH like she belonged in California, not in the dusty tomes of some piece of shit folklore.

Make no mistake, he still wanted to fight his way back into his father’s good graces (assuming Teppei possessed good grace, Colt would be content with begrudging acceptance instead). But now, he was desperate to solve the mystery. He had begged her to stay, voice dipping into embarrassingly weak pleas, but she had panicked and leapt into the waves, tail flitting behind her in a merry farewell as she fled.

He couldn’t let that be the last time he saw her; he had to talk to her again. He was so distracted, wandering around the sideshow with his mind on the sea, that he almost walked straight into a couple, wandering the cars side-by-side and meandering through the crowd.

“Watch where you’re going,” he shot out, halfheartedly, more instinct than conscious thought.

“You watch where you’re going.” The kid turned, swinging his hair out of his eyes to size Colt up. He rolled his eyes. Did this punk really want to start something here? Of all places?

The girl in front of him stops short as well but, as soon as she turns, she flinches, damp hair settling in haphazard waves around her fine features as she gawks at him, eyes wide. They gleam, large in her face, an almost otherworldly glow from the dance floor strobe lights, and she looks terrified. Colt scoffs; he might rough up her man, but he wouldn’t lay hands on this tiny brunette. He’s not that much of a prick.

She stares at him and takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she studies him. He blinks back, waiting, never dropping the gaze. Finally, she speaks. “Ummm....Hi?”

With the sour intensity painting her features, he expected a better opening line. “What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She’s still staring at him in terror, eyes glassy, face pale.

“What? Ummm… you don’t…” Her tongue pokes out to wet her trembling lips and he follows the movement before remembering the asshole perched next to her. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Sorry,” he scoffs, already bored. “I don’t pay attention to every single pair of losers that has the audacity to get in my way.” He shakes his head and stalks off, mind already returning to the waves and the shadow of a tail underneath the surface.

~~~~~

He is absolutely, completely, world-endingly obsessed.

Colt is no stranger to obsession (motorcycles, video games, reclaiming his place as rightful heir through fists and sweat and blood) but his desperate need to see the mermaid is bordering on insanity. He leaps from the cliff, again and again and again, varying hour of day and day of week based on a detailed spreadsheet he drafted to give him the best probability to see her again. The middle of the day is fruitless, depths of the sea a brilliant reprieve from the sun sweltering overhead, but he doesn’t even notice, feeling only dismay when she doesn’t appear. The middle of the night is no better, moon lighting a solemn path through the trees as its glow echoes softly over the lapping waves, but still no mermaid.

He is starting to lose hope, despair seeping its way into his heart, when he spies a familiar head of hair in the evening sunset.

“It’s you,” he breathes and swims closer, drawn to her in a way that he doesn’t want to examine too hard.

“Hi.”

“I’ve been trying to find you, I’ve been coming here almost every day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that where you’ve been going?”

“What?”

“When you take off….” she opens her mouth and closes it again, eyes scrutinizing him as if he were a puzzle to be deciphered and conquered. “This is where you go?”

“What?”

“When you…” she trails off before shaking her head, dismissively. “Never mind. You are an idiot.”

He ignores the insult as he takes her in, the water tracing gentle paths down her features, the tail glowing luminescent behind her, reflecting the waning rays of sun dipping over the ocean. “Who are you? How did you get here? Where are you from?”

“You are really curious about me.” She smiles sanguinely and her tail flips behind her. Colt feels lightheaded.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m from LA obviously,” she giggles and the tilt of her laugh pulls him closer, legs kicking out until he is treading water directly in front of her.

“What, a secret coven of mermaids hidden in the Hills?”

She laughs and his fingers twitch, aching to reach out and touch the droplet heavy on her cheek. “Covens are for witches.”

“Do you mean the mythical kind? Do they also live in LA? Or are you referring to the lady who runs the bodega on 92nd cuz she is a real witch?”

She laughs again and he would do anything, absolutely anything, to hear the sound again. “I’m sure you may have instigated something there.”

“Maybe…” The smile still plays on her lips; there is so much he wants to ask, so much he needs to know.

“I can’t believe there are mermaids. Damn.” A sudden thought hits him; he considered this his secret but maybe it wasn’t just his. “Does anyone else know about you?”

“What? I guess…My dad…” She looks past him, gazing far away at something only she can see. “He knows but he…he doesn’t understand what it’s like. What I’m like.”

Her eyes suddenly water with something more painful than the sea and Colt is stuck by the fact that even mermaids have human problems. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I know you do, Colt.”

“Wait...How did you know my name?”

She rolls her eyes, and the sadness vanishes, replaced by the familiar teasing grin, the sense that she knows some secret that he can’t comprehend. “You are a goddamn…It’s mermaid magic, Colt. Mermaid magic.”

~~~~~~

He spends less and less time at the shop.

He’s sure his father is delighted, but he’s also sure Pop harbors secret, unnecessary concerns about his whereabouts. The crew seems the same as when he was shipped out east, as bumbling as ever, but now when he desperately escapes from the crowd, it is with purpose. He yearns to catch yet another glimpse of the girl, tail fleeting in the water, smirk on her face as they banter back and forth.

He isn’t interested in anything but the mermaid.

Except maybe one thing. One person.

The girl from the sideshow, Ellie, has somehow integrated herself into the crew. At first, he was doubtful, wondering how a careful valedictorian could fit in with a group of hardened thieves, but she seemed to integrate seamlessly into the group, her intelligence a compliment to a crew that was severely lacking.

And apparently even he found it hard to reject her, her toughness and drive reminding him of himself. She’s fast on her feet; they have traded almost infinite barbs, various interchanges and insults, her quick wit keeping pace even with his own. He's also caught her glancing his way, peeking glances from across the shop, interest and confusion painting her face. He looks at her as well, more than he would admit, and he tells himself it is solely curiosity. Sure, she's attractive, but she's also rejecting her cozy home for a shadowed existence in a crew on the edge. Of course, he's curious.

Which is how he finds himself escorting her to her driver’s test which, obviously, she passed with flying colors. Beaming with pride, she insists on using her new paper permit to drive them back to the garage, hands confidently gripping the steering wheel as he watches the highway fly by.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

He gapes at her. The insult is familiar; it’s far from the first time she called him that, but it seems rather random this time. “Pot, meet kettle,” he huffs.

“You are just so dumb.” She only smiles wider. “You don’t see what’s right in front of your face.”

“I see another idiot who is gonna waste twenty minutes if she misses the off-ramp.”

”Whatever,” she sighs and dutifully puts her blinker on, plush lips pursing at him. “You think you’re so smart, with your stealthy getaways, your little secret. You’re nowhere near as smart as you think you are.”

“What are you-” His voice fades away as his mind races. How did she know-? She couldn’t know. Right? He hasn’t told anyone about the mermaid, about his trips to the cliff, about flying though the air to find her, waiting for him, wet skin glowing in the setting sun.

“I know you have a secret…” She glances over then quickly averts her eyes to the road. “Maybe I do, too.”

“Ha. Your secret is that you got mixed up in a life of crime.”

“And your secret is even more insane.”

He stares at her, trying to figure out what exactly she knows, but she only winks at him, throwing her car in park. “What are you…” he trails off.

“What’s the one thing you want more than anything?” Her lips play in a sly smirk and he can’t help but incline his head towards her. Colt wants, God, he wants all the time. He is a perpetual raging ball of want, desperate for things he can’t have-access to his father’s life, a place in the crew, the trust of a mermaid-all of it swirling in his mind but, right now, the one thing he wants is to lean even closer, to capture Ellie’s lips in his own and bite at her snarky smile until his name on her lips is the only thing she herself wants.

He inhales, sharp, the desire pulsing through him sharp as a splash of water over his face. He is suddenly as cold as the sea.

“You’ve almost got it,” she inches closer and her eyes positively gleam, brilliantly reflecting the dashboard indicators, and she gives him one last smirk before pulling away, springing out of the seat and slamming the door behind her.

Now that she has moved, Colt feels like he can finally breathe, air rushing into his lungs. It smells slightly of salt, as if the sea breeze had made it all the way to Gramercy Park, even through the closed windows. Strange.

~~~~~

“You are an idiot,” she sings, voice high over the surf.

They splash together in the waves and he peppers the mermaid with questions, most of which she answers in between diving under the surf to pop up behind him, hair swirling as he stutters. Every time they meet up, he has more questions, and she indulges him with a small grin. He has learned that unicorns don’t exist, she has never seen an actual sea monster, and, apparently, her overprotective father is so worried about a human finding out about her that he used to put a GPS locator on her phone.

“But how do you have a phone?”

“Idiot!!! How are you so-urgh!” She blows bubbles through full lips and laughs. “Everyone has a phone.”

“What, you just have a pocket in your tail?” He dives, reaching out to slowly caress the scales under the surface. They are smooth to the touch, like sea glass or river rocks, glowing incandescent in the water. She swats at him, tail flicking playfully, and he swims after it, giving chase until his lungs burn and he needs to emerge, sucking in oxygen.

“I told you, I’m not always a mermaid.”

“So you go to school? Like normal?”

She blinks slowly at him, eyes imploring. “I’m in high school. A senior. I’m gonna be the valedictorian of my class.”

“That’s why you think I’m an idiot, because you’re a nerdy smartypants.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nope. Not why I think you’re an idiot, Colt.”

“Will I ever get to see you as a human?”

“Ummm…” She swallows, hard, and a flash of terror crosses her face. His stomach swoops, deja vu hinting at something in his mind, but she continues before he can examine the sensation. “I don’t know. Can I trust you?”

“I’ve kept your secret so far.”

“You have,” she avers with certainty, nodding to herself. “You have.” She looks around at the ocean, deep in thought and chewing on her lips, before she looks at him resolutely. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

“Now?”

She nods again and ducks under the waves, swimming out in front of him, slowly, so his clumsy human feet can follow her to a shadowy cove hidden in the cliff side. He walks out onto a small strip of sand as she pulls herself up, arms propelling her forward as her tail glistens and picks up damp granules of warm sand.

“Wait here. Close your eyes.”

“Fine,” he huffs but dutifully listens, hearing her slither behind a rock. There’s a quiet rustling, movement, fabric draping over wet skin; he can almost imagine her behind the rock, skin wet from the ocean, salt clinging to every inch his tongue could chase. He swallows the flash of heat down.

“Ok.” Her voice trembles and she sounds intensely nervous, though Colt can’t figure out why. “You can open your eyes.”

He does and, standing right in front of him, the mermaid is clad in jeans and a tank top. Her dark hair is sopping wet as she rings it out, strands tangling over her fingers and draping over her shoulder. He steps closer in shock. “You have legs!”

She blinks at him again, dumbfounded. “You are as dumb as these rocks.”

He is about to retort when she reaches down to grasp a sweatshirt, sliding the familiar blue over her head, rocking back on her heels and crossing her arms right below where the white lettering spells out LANGSTON.

“Holy shit-”

“I told you you were an idiot.”

“I am so stupid. I am so fucking stupid.”

“Wow, we actually agree on something.” She smiles and he can’t stop his fingers from reaching out to grasp her hips, Ellie’s human hips.

When she kisses him, she tastes like the sea.

Tags

Perma @desireepow-1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580 @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves @jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

#playchoices fanfic #colt x mc #colt kaneko #ride or die: a bad boy romance #thank you for the amazing idea #so much #amy writes

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meow-bebe · 4 years

Text

Bored Games

Pairing: Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, tbh this is just kinda weird, quarantine fic?

Warnings: a decent amount of cussing, one cringey sex joke, an unfortunate attempt at cheating at scrabble based of a real experience of mine

Word count: 3662

A/n: yes you heard me right, this is a quarantine fic. to those in the future, 2020 was a strange time

“I’m boreeeddd, Y/n,” Minhyuk whined, flopping down on the bed beside you. You were currently immersed in a book, laying in a pool of afternoon sunlight on your bed, glasses slipping down your nose as you lost yourself in the pages.

“I know,” you hummed, barely listening.

“I’m tired of staying inside,” he continued.

“I know,” you repeated, flicking a strand of hair out of your face and turning the page.

“I want food that we haven’t cooked.” He rolled over so he was closer to you, and you finally glanced over at him.

“I’m aware.”

“I want to go places!” His voice raised in pitch, somehow managing to become even more whiny, and you sighed, setting your book down.

“Yet again, Minhyuk, I know. Quarantine is driving you insane, you’re constantly bored even though we’re always doing things, and you’re itching to go literally anywhere. Bothering me every three minutes isn’t going to help anything.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I just have too much-” Mihyuk flails his hands about - “energy. And it feels like there’s nothing to do. I need to keep busy.”

“You could water my plants,” you suggest sarcastically.

“Maybe I will.”

You roll your eyes, and an idea begins to spark in your head. “Actually, I might have something in mind.” Minhyuk pulls his head out where he had buried it between the pillows, eyes bright at the prospect of actually doing something. “How about this. You go find something to do for fifteen minutes so I can finish this chapter-” You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes again at the way your boyfriend visibly deflates - “and then I’ll show you my idea.”

“What, you’re not going to tell me what it is?” Minhyuk teases.

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “You’ll just have to wait and see. It’s pretty great though, I promise. I think you’ll like it.”

Minhyuk squints at you for a moment before finally agreeing. “Fine. Just, hurry up with the reading.” He got off the bed and dashed toward the door. “I’ll be waiting!” he sang.

“I can only read so fast,” you called after him. You rolled out your neck and turned back to your book, quickly managing to slip back into focus with no more distractions. You finished faster than you had anticipated, slipping the random scrap of paper you were currently using as a bookmark into place. Raising your arms above your head, you stretched out your shoulders before rolling off the bed. You strode over to the closet and swiped all of your clothing to the side, beginning to hunt around amongst all of the boxes of stuff you really didn't want to deal with when you moved in search of two specific boxes, hoping you had marked them correctly.

And there they were, stuck neatly on top of each other in the farthest corner in a surprising contrast to the rest of your messy closet. Board Games. You wore a triumphant smile as you pulled the two boxes from the depths of the closet, managing to get them to the bed without any accidents. You pulled the flaps open on the first box, the smaller of the two, and began to stack up the thinner game boxes on the bed. It was a haphazard pile, but it didn’t really matter. If everything went to plan it would be pulled apart within a few minutes anyway. Fishing the last game out, you tossed the box back towards the closet and told yourself you would clean it up later, knowing that you probably wouldn’t.

You opened the second box, stacking even more games onto your pile before the box met the same fate as the previous one. You gathered the precarious tower up, and even with your arms completely extended it met your chin. Tonight would be fun.

“Minhyuk!” you called as you strode out of the bedroom, startling Minhyuk. He wobbled slightly on his perch on the back of the couch, green watering can in hand as he had apparently scrambled up there to reach the spider plant hanging from the curtain rod. It seemed as though he had taken your overly sarcastic suggestion to heart.

“What,” he asked, eyes zeroing in on the stack in your arms, “are you going to do with those?”

“So remember how I told you I had an idea of what we could do?” He nodded. “We-” you dumped the stack next to the coffee table as Minhyuk tipped the rest of the water into the plant and hopped down onto the couch- “are going to play every board game that I own.”

Eyeing the large stack again, Minhyuk said, “That’ll take all night.”

“That’s the point,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Well then,” Minhyuk grinned and clapped his hands together, “we should get started. What should we play first?”

Shuffling through the pile, you produced a familiar yet dreaded box. “We start with a classic.” An evil grin spread across your face as you held the box up. “Monopoly.”

Monopoly ended about forty-five minutes later and halfway through the game when you somehow managed to hook your arm under the board and sent the entire game flying into Minhyuk’s lap. The two of you had decided that you didn’t want to set everything up again as neither of you could really remember what you owned or where everything went, and you were also aware of the competitive nature of the game and didn’t want to start a feud already. The night was still young after all, and you had a whole stack of other games to play. You had then played a surprisingly aggressive round of double solitaire and were now trying somewhat unsuccessfully to teach Minhyuk how to play Exploding Kittens.

“Hah! Give me your defuse!” Mihyuk bursts as soon as you draw your card, slapping down two ‘hairy potato cat’ cards.

You fan your handful of cards out for him to pick from and sigh. “You can only do that if you have three of those.” Minhyuk huffed and drew one of your cards, adding it to his significantly smaller stash. Scanning over his cards, he tossed a ‘see the future’ onto the discard pile and counted out the top three cards from the top of the deck to look at. He squinted, glanced up at you, and grinned before setting the cards back down and drawing the first one.

“You have an absolutely terrible poker face, you know.” You plucked a ‘skip’ from your hand and put it on top of the ‘see the future’. Minhyuk scowled and went back to dramatically shuffling through his cards. He eventually decided on an ‘attack’ and the pure pride on his face made you feel a little bad when you immediately slapped a ‘nope’ on top of it.

“Oh come on!” he yelled, “This isn’t fair! I barely know how to play this game.” Minhyuk glared down at his cards, and pulled a ‘shuffle’ out before sliding the deck towards you. It was still early enough in the game that there was a decent pile of cards, and you quickly and thoroughly shuffled the deck. Minhyuk drew the slightly bent card on top, promptly throwing it back down when he discovered it was the same exact ‘exploding kitten’ he was avoiding. “Seriously?” he yelled again, tossing down the rest of his cards on the discard pile. “You rigged it!”

You smirked a little. “I did no such thing.”

“This game sucks,” Minhyuk pouted.

“It’s not that bad,” you said, gathering all of the cards so you could shuffle the expansion packs back in and pack up the deck. “It’ll be more fun when you really learn how to play, promise. Why don’t you go choose our next game? Oh, and add another point to my side of the board, would you?”

The two of you had decided to turn this into a little bit more than your average game night, keeping track of who won how many games on the whiteboard that you usually used as a schedule. Considering that you weren’t really doing much these days other than attending video call meetings, you had erased the weekend and were using those slots to keep track of the points. Whoever won the overall competition got to have the other as their ‘slave’ the next day, doing anything and everything the other could ask of you. Truthfully you had no idea who was going to win, but either way tomorrow would be interesting. The arrangement reminded you somewhat of when you were a child and caught your siblings sneaking candy and then forced them into promising you a week of their service in exchange for not telling your parents. Winning Exploding Kittens put you in the lead, as you had decided that each of you would get a point for both Monopoly and solitaire as neither had a particular winner.

Minhyuk glared at you. “Fuck you.”

“Only if I say so,” you teased, and he pretended to throw up in response.

You shuffled the Exploding Kittens cards one last time for good measure before halving the deck and putting it back in the box. You then tossed the box across the coffee table to join the decks of cards on top of the Monopoly box next to Minhyuk’s spot. “Did you pick a game yet?”

“Yes.” He slid the red box onto the table. “We’re playing Scrabble.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You always cheat. I don’t know if I want to play with a cheater.”

He whisked the top off and tossed it to the floor. “I do not. We are playing Scrabble, you got to choose the last one so it’s my turn now. And I choose Scrabble.”

“Fine,” you said, grabbing the board and dramatically snapping it open. “Give me my letter stand thing.”

Minhyuk burst out laughing. “Letter stand thing?” he wheezed, “Isn’t there a word for it? You'll have to try harder than that if you want to win this.”

“Perhaps,” you said, “but I have more important things to focus on right now. Like making sure you don’t cheat.” You snatched the velvet bag from his hands, and immediately paused, not feeling the flat Scrabble letters inside. “This is my D&D dice….”

Minhyuk tipped his head to the side. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?”

“We had a campaign in high school.” You opened the bag just to make sure you weren’t losing your mind and pulled out the favored D20. “How did these end up here?”

“I really don’t know,” Minhyuk said, “but I certainly hope you still have the Scrabble tiles.”

“Well if these are here-” You shook the bag- “I can only assume that the Scrabble stuff is with my D&D books.”

“Alright then,” Minhyuk stood up abruptly, shoving the table towards you a little bit, “let the hunt begin!”

As it turns out you were right, and the wooden letters were, in fact, with your old D&D books. Although the bags were exactly the same, which led you to believe that the bag that the dice currently resided in might have been stolen from one of the other members of your high school party’s Scrabble set, you really weren’t sure how the two had gotten mixed up. It took about twenty minutes of searching through boxes, but the books were eventually found.

You were currently set back up at the coffee table again, each of you with your phones pulled out for easy access and the dictionary sitting next to the game board, and you were impatiently waiting for Minhyuk to finally take his turn.

“Are you going to go, or are you going to sit there and stare at the letters some more?” You asked. “We don’t have all day.”

“We have nothing but time,” Minhyuk says, starting to rearrange the tiles on his stand.

“We also have a shit ton more games to play,” you pointed out. “You accepted the challenge, now we gotta pull through.”

“Fine,” he huffed, gathering his letters, “I’m adding onto your ‘ate’ to make ‘tolerate’. Give me five more letters.”

You held the bag out, high enough so that he couldn’t see into it and choose which letter he drew, and Minhyuk pulled them out one by one, carefully setting them on his stand. He scrawled down a few more tally marks on the ripped sheet of notebook paper you were using to keep score as you surveyed your own letters. As you began to set them out, he pulled his phone up and you squinted suspiciously at him before straightening out what you had placed down and announcing how many points you get.

“I was going to use that letter,” Minhyuk grumbled.

“That’s how the game goes,” you say. “Now take your damn turn.”

“I’m working on it,” he said, placing two letters out, hitting both a double word score and a triple letter score.

“That-” you point at the ‘word’ on the board- “is not a word.”

“Yes it is,” Minhyuk says smugly, “I googled it.”

“Zek?” you question, “there’s no fucking way.”

“Look it up then.”

“Fine,” you say, unlocking your phone, “I will. And I'll prove your ass wrong.” Minhyuk sits there proudly and adds up his as you type his ‘word’ into google.

“‘Zek’,” you read out, “‘a Russian slang term for a prisoner in a Soviet labor camp’. What the fuck, Minhyuk?”

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“Russian. Slang term. Two reasons you can’t use it, right there in the definition! Scrabble words can’t be in other languages, and you can’t use slang terms! Take it off the board and erase your points!”

“Fine!” he exclaims, accidentally knocking a few other letters around as he angrily swiped the ‘z’ and ‘k’ of the board. “But I get another chance.”

“Got your points all counted up?” Minhyuk asks, writing down his final number and hiding the paper from you.

“Yep,” you confirmed, “all words present and accounted for.”

“You go first,” Minhyuk says, grinning down at his numbers before tucking it back against his chest.

“Two hundred and seventeen,” you proudly announced.

“Two hundred and twenty eight!” Minhyuk yells, jumping up from the couch and dancing around the room in celebration. “I fucking win!”

“What?” you screech? “How? All of your words were small and shitty!”

“Yeah they were,” he says, stopping his victory flailing to poke you in the nose, “I just know where to put my small shitty words to get more points than you!”

You grit your teeth and slap his hand away from your face. “Give yourself a point, pick another game.” You carefully folded the board most of the way and situated the bag underneath it, pouring the tiles back into it. You put everything back into the box and slipped underneath Monopoly.

“Here,” Minhyuk fell back into his spot and tossed a small plastic bag of Cards Against Humanity cards onto the table. “Do you have more of these?”

“Somewhere,” you said, “but let’s just use these. Keep it short ‘cause we have more games to get through.”

“Good idea,” he agreed. “Are we planning on having dinner soon? It’s going to get dark in a little while.”

You looked up to the window behind the couch to see the sun sinking steadily towards the horizon. The light was starting to fade from the room, and at some point in the near future you would need to pull a lamp close to the table if you wanted to be able to see whatever you would be playing at that point.

“I am getting kind of hungry. Why don’t we finish this game and then eat?” you proposed.

“Works for me.”

Playing a short round of Cards Against Humanity had brought you back into good spirits again after the overly competitive nature of Scrabble. As always, you had both lost your shit laughing several times, and Minhyuk was surprisingly not very pouty when you claimed the point. (Although he did try to argue that you should only get half a point because it was basically just half a game.)

The two of you had quickly thrown together a small dinner, after which some rearrangement of the living room lamps was required to provide enough light to see by. Despite needing three people to play, a game of Clue was attempted, however you gave up pretty quickly because you each had too many of the Clue cards and therefore too much power. (And Minhyuk was definitely trying to cheat again.) Neither of you got a point for that one.

You were currently trying to work your way through a small box of “road trip games” that you’ve had since middle school, although it wasn’t going very well. For either of you. The box was tiny, the appeal of it coming from the small size and the magnets in the bottom of the pieces that allowed them to not get knocked around. Unfortunately, most of the magnets had fallen out over the years, and you and Minhyuk would consistently bump the little game board around, knocking several pieces over each time. Also neither of you were very good at chess.

Minhyuk moved his knight to take one of your pawns, and you immediately swept in to claim the knight for yourself. He then managed to take another one of your pawns, and you snatched the rook right away. Minhyuk groaned and flopped his head back onto the couch cushion. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you chastised, “we’re just bad at it.”

“If both of us are bad at it, it’s not a good game.”

“Your logic is flawed,” you sigh, “just take your turn.” He did, moving his queen to the side in an attempt to get a shot at your remaining tower. “Check,” you announced, and before Minhyuk had a chance to move his queen back to a protective place you moved your knight once more and happily exclaimed, “Checkmate.”

“Fuck this,” Minhyuk glowered and slapped the box closed. “Let’s do something else.”

“We still have to play checkers,” you reminded, adding another point to your column of the schedule.

Minhyuk groaned again. “At least checkers is kind of easy.”

“Well then let’s get to it.”

Several hours had passed. You kept playing games, slowly decreasing the stack next to the couch, adding point after point to the whiteboard. It was definitely pretty late now, but time had no meaning anyway. You were drinking your third cup of coffee, trying to stay alert enough to keep your mind sharp. It wasn’t particularly working.

“It is literally two in the morning. We’ve been playing games most of the day. Are we almost done?” Minhyuk had just won his first game in a while, and you were left staring at the final box on the floor.

“Yeah,” you said, “only one left.”

“What is it?”

“Pictureka,” you say, plonking the broken box onto the table.

“Pictureka?” Minhyuk buries his face in his hands. “For fucks sake, seriously?”

“I’m completely serious,” you say, starting to unpack the tiles.

“I’m tired,” Minhyuk complains, “and you know I can’t see for shit anyway.”

“You’re wearing your glasses,” you point out. “And anyway, as soon as we finish this we can go to bed. This is the last one.”

He huffs dramatically. “Fine.”

The two of you set the game up, and once you began playing, it was obvious that despite the fact that Minhyuk “can’t see for shit,” he was winning anyway. The two of you continued for a while, impatiently waiting for the timer to run out each round, slowly collecting a pile of the challenge cards.

“Wait, are we supposed to go through all of these cards?” Minhyuk asks, suddenly realising how many were left in each stack.

“I mean, I’ve always just played until I got bored,” you say, trying to recall if you’ve ever played the whole decks.

“Then why are we still here,” Minhyuk asks. “It’s too late to be doing this.”

“Says the one with a pile twice the size of mine,” you deadpan.

“Hey, it’s not my fault your brain stops working when you're tired.” Minhyuk raises his hands defensively.

You roll your eyes. “One more round?”

“Perfect.”

Completely unsurprisingly, Minhyuk had won Pictureka. He gave himself another point, and began to help you separate the different colored cards and stick the tiles back into the box. Once that was all put away, it was added to the pile of game boxes sitting next to Minhyuk on the couch and also beginning to pile up on the floor.

You pulled the whiteboard into your lap. “And now, we determine who’s the final winner of game night.”

You counted up your points, wrote the final number at the bottom, and then began on Minhyuk’s. The number you reached on his side made you pause. “....They’re even.”

“What?” Minhyuk screeched in your ear. This earned a glare from you. “Let me see.” He snatched the board from your lap, quickly scanning over the points himself and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. “Well what do we do now then? Do neither of us get the prize? Or both?”

“Let’s figure it out in the morning,” you say with a yawn, “it’s too late for this.”

“You’re right,” Minhyuk agreed, and stood up to stretch. “Maybe it’s better that we tied.”

“Perhaps,” you mused, “but all I care about right now is going to bed. I’ve sat cross legged for too long today.”

And so, the two of you made your way back to the bedroom, setting your empty coffee mug in the sink and avoiding the boxes you had tossed around earlier. Minhyuk’s boredom had been alleviated, at least for today, and it was almost three a.m. Definitely time to call it a night.

#Monsta X #minhyuk #minhyuk monsta x #mx #minhyuk x reader #lee minhyuk x reader #monsta x x reader #monsta x fluff #minhyuk fanfic #minhyuk fluff #monsta x fanfic #monsta x scenarios #minhyuk scenario #monsta x imagines #minhyuk imagines

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mother-snake · 4 years

Text

a guide to the other side pt10

(the final part to a guide to the other side. the continueation from thursday. planning a third and final writing for this series.)

start: thursday previous: a guide to the other side pt9 next: who lives, who dies, who tells your story

taggs: @idkanameatall

warnings: death, beheading, if authour cried be prepeared for feels. blood. angst lvl 100

-the final battle between them all is taking place. janus loses his world-

The kids from yesterday

Theodore screamed, white hot pain flared in his side as he tried to avoid the white and black sludge that swarmed them like hot tar.

He collapsed onto one knee, he touched his side, a sticky liquid leaking from his wound. He hissed in pain at the touch.

“not so strong without your brother, are you?” a voice taunted from in front of him. he looked up and paled ten times more.

White hair, silver leather jacket and pristine white clothes. His silver eyes bore into Theodore’s soul as he looked onwards. He let out a shaky laugh.

“your going to die for hurting my baby brother and his family,” he grinned. “not before you bleed out,” insanity grinned looking at the side who was struggling to stand on his feet.

Roman looked up from the floating piece of the mindscape that he had gotten caught on. his eyes went wide as he saw Theodore’s condition. They had been at this for a good ten minuets and were all growing tired running. They had tried to follow depressions advice but with wrath back and angrier than before, it was getting much harder to do anything.

Roman didn’t know what to do anymore. He barely had enough energy to focus. Whatever that white sludge was, if even got a small drop on you… it felt as if you could go to sleep. he panted as he tried to gather enough energy. something collided with his back, sending him sprawling onto the floor. White hot pain seared into his flesh and bone.

He let out a scream of pure agony as his back collided with the floor. “ROMAN!” yelled Virgil as he used his extra limbs to climb up to the others platform. wrath hot on his heels. He didn’t care. His friend was in danger.

Logan had ben startled when Janus woke up screaming grasping his side in pain. But what made Logan worry was the fact it wasn’t the side he had thrown the other onto the ground on. “Janus?!” Patton shouted, panicked by the other. “Theo…Theodore…I need to… help,” his eye began to flicker whilst small dribbles of black liquid dropped out of its socket.

Logan backed away slightly, Patton doing the same as well.

Janus’s scales shifted to black, his clothes shifting along with his mind. His old black jumper was a welcome feel as his mind was reeling. His brother was in pain. And whoever did it was going to regret being alive.

He felt his smile grow on his face, he felt his eyes go wide as ideas flooded his mind. “Janus…” Logan said. “we’ve got some sides to turn into corpses,” he giggled standing up. his arms relaxed by his sides.

He slowly tilted his head at the two other sides in the room before turning to the door at the back and skipping over and opening it. “what are you waiting for?” he giggled.

Logan stared at his…no… that wasn’t him… this was his complete snap. He’d seen the other snap half way, the pain from his brother must have been clouding his judgement.

Standing up, he offered a hand to Patton to help him up, and soon they were on their way.

They had not been expecting to see what they did. Remus was stuck on the ground… Virgil was fighting wrath, stopping him from getting close to roman. Janus could sense his brother, but couldn’t see him.

He lifted his hand in front of himself. A pale-yellow matter surged into life and wrapped around his hand, pulling him up to the sky, his laughter was heard by the others as he hung from the sky by only the yellow… whatever is was.

He let out an ear-piercing whistle. There was nothing after…then…The ground began to shake much more than before. they turned their eyes to look behind the deceitful side…

Two snake slit eyes pierced behind the dark as the form began to solidify.

“holy shit…” Logan muttered…Patton could only nod in response. “Janus!” Logan yelled up, grabbing his attention, “get to Theodore!”

Janus nodded and was off within seconds, the giant snake behind him slithering forwards and making his way to help Virgil and roman.

Logan spread his wings and shot into the sky before diving down and grabbing Remus. “heads up sweetheart!” he said as he dropped him down by roman.

Patton on the ground shifted himself into Lilly Patton. And began to leap onto the platforms to get over and help the others with keeping wrath busy.

Logan seeing them all going to be okay soared over to help Janus as best as he could.

“Patton, are you okay?!” Remus asked looking at Patton with shock. “I’m fine… we need to keep wrath busy until Janus and Theodore fuse together!”

Wrath stared at Patton and laughed, “that won’t happen, insanity wouldn’t let it.” Remus turned to face the orange side, “well then… we can still keep you busy,” he turned to face roman who held the same look on his face. “it’s now or never,”

Wrath caught on too late. A green and red light swirled into one. The form gave f one of authority and power that could barely be rivalled. the colours faded and king stood in its place.

He blinked; his chromatic eyes stared at wrath with rage. Black ink pouring out of one, gold out of the other. the green and red caped flapped in the air as he surged forwards sword at the ready and shield on guard.

Wrath cursed under his breath as he dodged the fusion. This was still bad. Not as bad as self-preservation. But it could still end up putting a number on him either way.

Their weapons clashed together, as they stood in a stand still Patton launched himself at wrath, knocking the side of the edge of the island and crashing to the floor. the snake nodded at them, turning to face wrath and slamming his tail down on the figure. He could keep him busy for now.

The frog, king and spider looked between each other before leaping onto the floating platforms trying to get up to the top.

Janus dropped himself down in front of insanity but in front of his brother. “finally listening to your calling then repression?” insanity said. “no… I’m here for my brother. There’s something we need to do.”

Insanity summoned his rapier. Pointing it at Janus. But he only laughed and summoned his staff, his chest plate appearing in its correct position on his body. insanity lunged forwards, only to get swatted in the side by the yellow sludge. Wrapping it around the side like a cocoon. Swallowing him whole.

Janus relaxed and turned to his brother. He got a small nod; he knew what needed to be done.

Pink and yellow light swirled together. The figure on one knee showed itself through the mist. four eyes, two pale yellow and the other bright pink. Hair tied back in a ponytail. Scales littered the right of their face. Their body was protected by armour and they held a much larger scythe in two out of four arms.

They walked forwards, the other sided arriving from behind them. “you purposefully attacked people who did no harm to Thomas, you got your waring long ago… all these years and you have proven you can’t be trusted….”

He looked at the king. “do it…” king responded, he faced insanity, “the executioner will do his duty. Goodbye old friend.” “goodbye Samuel.” He swung the scythe down…

He disappeared into a silver mist, it swirled in the air before vanishing. A weak smile appeared on his face. self-preservation turned to face creativity. “it’s been far too long Romulus,” “I could say the same to you atlas, but alas I have to leave… as do you.” “goodbye my friend,” atlas smiled. “goodbye” there were two blinding lights.

Red and green split… pink and yellow as well.

Janus held onto Theodore in a hug as they formed. Theodore’s shoulder slung over his own. A weak smile on both their faces.

Roman and Remus formed seconds later holding hands. a wide grin on both their faces.

Time seemed to slow down as Janus felt himself being shoved to the ground. he looked up to see Theodore looking at him with a smile on his face… his eyes locked on his brother. Who collapsed down onto his knees and side.

He felt the phantom pain in his stomach and surged forwards. Cradling his brothers head in his lap. “Theodore? Theodore! Can you hear me?!” he said shaking his brother gently. “are…you…okay?” he whispered barely audibly. “you’re a fool. What the fuck did you do?!” Janus cried, tears pooling in his eyes. “you’ll be fine… you’ve got them,” “how can I live without you?” Janus muttered, tears pouring on his cheeks. “I love you baby brother…” Theodore whispered, tears pouring down his own cheeks. “I love you too,” his voice cracked.

Janus glanced to his left, Logan kneeled down next to Theodore. “it’s okay, we’ll take care of him,” he weakly smiled, tears pricking his eyes, “you can rest.”

Janus felt his brother go limp in his arms and screamed. Not one of pain. Not one of excitement or fear. but pure grief.

His eyes became black, scales shifting along with them. he gently placed his brother on the ground, closing his eyes.

He stood up and turned to wrath who stood still. Staring at Janus with a smirk that seemed to falter as he saw Janus’s broken look. “… enjoy the deepest pits of hell bastard,” Janus growled as he gripped his brothers’ staff and charged with so much speed that he couldn’t react. Blood splattered the scythe as wraths head rolled to the floor, body collapsing in a heap.

Janus turned back to his brother. Placing the scythe gently on the ground and walking towards him. Scooping him up into his arms… not saying a word.

He walked away…his brother in his arms… no one spoke, they just followed. Logan picking up the scythe before he left.

Each side looked at Janus with guilt and pity, each one of them mourning for the person they had met just that morning.

They arrived at the mirror in the mindscape and walked through… they walked for what felt like hours to all of them. a rock formation covered in vines was their location. Remus felt something inside him break as they walked forwards past the vines and into the cove.

The ruins still there from that day long ago.

Janus placed his brother on the ground kneeling down next to him… “were home,” he muttered voice cracking as he wept.

Remus clung onto Logan as he silently cried into the other. Patton didn’t know what to do. His mind yet to process what was happening. roman cried silently… looking at the figure crying over his brother who wasn’t there. Virgil shook with grief… he may have hated the other… but he was still his friend… and now he couldn’t even say sorry for leaving them years ago.

They stayed there. Until Janus had cried himself to sleep. But none of them had the will to move him. They stood there filled with guilt, wishing to bring Theodore back for their friend.

#Janus sanders #Roman sanders #Sander sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #Virgil sanders #remus sanders #majour charachter death #i cried writting this #dark #blood mention #tw death #not ready to finsish this just yet #im sad now. fuck

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dannejavi · 6 years

Text

Tales of Dusk: The Wicked Witch

"Yes, keep going. Keep fucking me, Wolf!" The old hag’s ecstatic screams echoed inside the ruined cabin located at the far outskirts of the Beacon Hills Preserve.

Derek panted, breathless, as his hips rhythmically pistoned slamming relentlessly against Lorna’s elderly body. Heedless of any potential damage her seemingly frail body might incur, Lorna shook from the ferocious fucking. Rather, her bony, emaciated hands groped the hardened granite muscle of Derek’s ass, sharp nails dug into the taut flesh, eagerly pulling Derek’s body flush against her own.

Bathed in the full moon’s glow, streaming from the large gaping hole on the cabin roof, Derek’s and Lorna’s body were contorted in a tangle of sweat-slick limbs. Skin stuck together from hours of pleasure. Derek had both hands cradling the witch’s cadaverous face, taking her crumpled mouth in a harsh bruising kiss. His tongue trespassing past yellowed crooked teeth, broken from age and use.

The beams of light surrounded them in a romantic glow. And from a distance, the two would seem like any other passionate couple expressing their love underneath the pale moonlight. But love, or at least true love, was far from what was happening. Lorna, the ancient centennial witch, had managed to cast a spell on Derek Hale, the last scion of the once powerful Hale werewolf line.

Lorna uses Derek as a bodyguard, a mind-controlled slave to be her right hand and protect her from uncommon situations that may require brute force rather than magic. She also canalized a succubi witchcraft that allows her to leech vital energy from other people through the intimate exchange of bodily fluids.

AKA: sex.

To have under your thrall a young handsome born Alpha werewolf as both a personal bodyguard and deviant sex slave would be a genuine coup for anyone. Lorna made sure to utilize her windfall as often as any 300-year-old woman can. Weeks after the fact, it’s still a huge stroke to her ego that all this glorious man is hers to have and own.

On the tattered mattress set on the dirty floor, Lorna’s pipe-thin legs quivered in the air. Between them, Derek mercilessly hammered amidst the witch’s raucous screams of bliss. Her claws scratching a mess of lines across Derek’s broad back. The slap of skin and Derek’s efforted grunts and gasps the symphony to their affair.

Derek felt her usually lose canal tighten, hear the quickened breath and rushing pulse coursing with adrenaline and endorphins. He took one baggy tit and fondled what little form left within. With a lascivious smile, he locked his steel-flecked emerald eyes with her cataract-clouded ones and latched full lips onto a wrinkled nipple.

"Delicious." Derek hummed in bliss, cheeks hollowing while hungrily nursing the tit. Lorna choked on a giggle as she felt the rough of his tongue lap her liver-spotted skin, salty and greasy from their combined sweat and saliva.

She laughed, bony hands moved between Derek's lower back and the slope of his plump ass. "Yeah, suck my tits, mutt." She ordered with two playful hard slaps.

Derek had slowed his thrusts to give her tits its appropriate worship, suckling, and nursing as he switched between. Both equally saggy and withered, far different from the taut, smooth, firm ones Derek was more accustomed to with his previous lovers.

Nonetheless, he put on a show for her. Fitting as much of the formless flesh inside his mouth. Tongue dipping into wrinkled crevices. Suckling greedy as an unweaned baby. He let the old flesh slide out from his lips, the tit slump over Lorna's chest with a wet bump, making both of them laugh. Derek smirk was to stop traffic, and the witch's proud of had caught such an Adonis bubbled in her guts.

Derek leaned over, sticking out his large flat tongue all over the protuberant bones on her liver-spotted cleavage. He kissed, licked and nibbled, rubbing his stubble on every inch of exposed wrinkly skin. It was like a dog scent marking his territory, his bitch. Lorna smiled. She brought right hand to hold Derek's jaw under long, creepy slender fingers, greyish nails digging the flawlessness of his skin.

"Do you like my aged, ancient form, wolf?" She asked, sneaking a thumb through Derek's swollen lips, he promptly takes it and starts to suckle.

"Love it." He mumbled around the finger, sweat-soaked face and clouded green eyes under the penumbra.

"Tell me more" Lorna teased behind a crooked smile.

Derek had both hands on her flaccid, lanky tights, thrusting uninterrupted into her loose cunt.

"Love your kisses, your tits. Love the dragging of my cock in and out of your pussy," Derek confessed, closing eyes and throwing head back. "God it’s amazing!"

The witch guffawed, giving two slaps on Derek's face to have his attention back. "You’re such a dog,” she said, nails raking down the flawless skin of his chest. “It’s time Alpha. Step up the tempo and breed me with your fertile semen."

"Yes ma'am" smiling, Derek obeyed. Assuming a straight position, he sits under his shins, pulling the hag closer and throwing her legs over his thick corded tights; Derek bracketed her thin waist and resumed the insane rhythm, watching his 10 inches cock sliding in and out of her loose, ancient pussy.

While Derek’s muscles puffed out beautifully, Lorna's protuberant bones made salient under her repugnant, crepey skin, with Derek's powerful strokes. It was like he was fucking a drought, withered corpse.

Sweat ran down in thick rivulets by the crevice of his spine, Derek's muscled form colliding against Lorna's decrepit one, a twisted, gruesome vision worthy of a terror movie.

"That's it Alpha, keep going. I can feel it already" Lorna yelled out, feeling the succubi magic running through her body. She watched in ecstasy Derek's chiseled form, every inch of his sun-kissed skin drenched in sweat, rolling down the swell of his carved chest, his perfect abs rippling with each thrust, throbbing veins on his bulging biceps, his focused face staring down at her with wild and primal lust. She definitely wasn't getting rid of him any time soon.

Lorna’s whole body shook under Derek’s pace, her saggy breasts flapping back and forth violently. Despite her skeletal form, there’s not much of flabby skin to flap around, but every hit of Derek’s hips makes her old muscles ripple with mechanic impact.

Derek's breathing becomes frantic, almost desperate as he looked at Lorna, flashing red eyes. He slid hands up, bracketing her cadaveric, salient ribcage, pulling her decrepit body to meet his thrusts.

"It’s coming! Shit, it's coming!" he yelled out, feeling the pull on his massive balls.

"Yes! Breed my decayed form with your fertile seed, Alpha Hale. Breed the old witch to Ever-living!" Lorna shouted out as an enchantment, her high-pitched creepy laughs vibrating through Derek's body, her vagina tightens, almost like to prevent his cock to escape.

Derek bottomed out and stays still, throwing head back in a deep, animalistic roar, red eyes and sharp fangs exposed on his open mouth as his knot swells quickly, tying them up. The cold wind of the night shook the tree's crown outside the log cabin, frightening whistles through the cracks on the rotten wood boards.

Derek's body tensed as he dumped inside Lorna's longtime useless womb. She trembled, feeling her stud’s semen coating her dried endometrium, back arching from the mattress, hands gripping tight her messed brittle grey hair, desperately relishing on the tingling sensation arising from her hips, down her legs and up on her torso.

He spilled huge gallons of white creamy semen: one, two, three, four, five in a row, the muscles on his thighs and hips prickling.

That’s the extra effect from the only anatomical change she did on Derek’s body; a big bulbous knot at the base of his cock. It granted that wouldn’t slip out and made him ejaculate double, triple than usual. Even his balls had become bigger than normal due to the higher frequency of magical semen-producing.

In his Alpha form, he looked down at the witch, red eyes and fangs out, feeling his vitality flowing away through his balls and cock.

“Oh, shit, yes!” Lorna whined high pitched, shrunken mouth open in an ‘O’, her body squirming, eyes wide at the full moon above them; the image of her writhing naked form resembling an undead, withered mummy coming back to life. With cataract-clouded irises she looked over Derek, as her womb absorbed his werewolf loads, recharging her magic essence and providing life longevity.

"Oh, Mighty Mother! I feel so alive! It is exhilarating!" she gasped behind gruesome giggles, veins on her gaunt neck and skeletal arms bumping swollen with powerful Alpha energy into her decrepit body.

Derek’s muscles trembled as he huffed like a bull. He slid hands along Lorna’s scraggy tights, fangs turning back to the human shape and eyes greeting the witch with usual green shade. There’s a flush on his cheekbones, bangs plastered to his frown, sweat dripping by his stubbled chin when Derek looked down at her cadaveric face with a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

Feeling invigorated, Lorna quickly pushed herself up sitting on Derek’s lap. Legs wrapped on his waist, she put one arm around his shoulders, using her free hand to touch Derek’s face. The new position allows his cock goes deeper inside her, and he groans with the extra stimulation.

“Derek Samuel Hale,” She said nonchalantly with aged rusty voice, slender thumb stroking back and forth his flushed cheek. With lidded eyes and sex smug face, Derek stared her, bunny teeth showing between half-open lips.

“What a perfect, macho specimen that you are, uhn? Handsome face, Greek-God body, a high top predator and a prime breeder.” She leaned, licking the sweat off Derek’s face, suckling the droplets by his chin and lapping under his eyelids. “Mother Nature made you an epitome of masculinity. A legit masterpiece in form of flesh and blood. Best Alpha I ever had in decades”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s my pleasure to serve you.” He darkly confessed between giggles when she dug broken teeth on his jawbone. Lorna’s long tongue slid out reaching Derek’s mouth, he promptly open to her full access.

Bathed by the silvery moonlight, they began to make out, a repugnant scene of entangled firm muscles and aged saggy flesh; a young Alpha werewolf and a centennial old hag connected by sexual frenzy.

Lorna's grey slimy tongue explored the insides of his mouth, lavishing it with rancid yellowed saliva and Derek correspond it, pressing his red, hot tongue against hers, kissing with such fervor and carnality in intention to make Lorna’s wrinkly mouth bruised.

Out of all fucked up situations Derek had got into his life, this could easily be on top of the rank.

The slurping sounds were wet, lascivious and obscene, Derek using his grip on her hips to move her back and forth, making friction necessary to brush his knot inside her cunt.

Lorna broke the kiss and delivered a slap on his face, hard and strong, Derek’s head turning to the side at the force of it. He looked back at her, smirking as thin three red lines of nails bruises on his face slowly healing back to normal, leaving the skin flawless again.

“Stay still, mutt, otherwise your knot will never shrink back,” she said, leaning again to lick the little strips of blood before they healed.

“Your pussy is so warm, I could stay knotted on you forever.” Derek giggled, letting the witch licks all over his face.

Lorna's hideous guffaws filled the cabin.

“I know you are a wild animal in constant lust state that needs breed anything, anytime. But this won’t be a problem. I will keep you on a leash.” She clamped down, clutching her vaginal muscles around Derek swollen, sensitive knot, sending electric bolts up in his body.

With eyes closed, Derek groaned as unloaded more semen inside her.

“We’re gonna spend at least half an hour here. How about you suck my tits as we wait for your filthy knot shrunk back?”

Derek opened foggy eyes and smiled brightly “Great idea. Thank you, ma'am,” He latched on her cracked nipples, humming in glee as the witch’s shrieking, wicked laughs echoed through the night.

~X~

If you like my work or want me to write a drabble for you, consider visit my ko-fi page. It is very appreciated. Thank you 😊

#derek hale #alpha derek #top derek #my ficlets #drabble #teen wolf #halloween #dark theme #witchcraft #witch

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megafarter · 6 years

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Sal’s Unbelievable Gas, pt.5

Pt. 5, a)

Sal was a hot muscley beefy dude with clothes on. But when he took off his shirt, I swear my eyes almost popped out of my head. Holy Macaroni. He was massive, just purely gargantuan in size. He had wide broad shoulders, like Dwight Howard (but white and Italian and way more beef). His chest was thick and wide and HAIRY as hell. The body hair alone sent me up the wall. It was thick dark and masculine. He was BIG too. Straight through from his nipple to the back of his shoulder blade easily had to be over one foot deep. His arms were comprised of thick and strong biceps, triceps, and forearms. You could tell he wasn’t some muscle twink hopped up on pre workout who’s never eaten a carb before. He eats to plenty of carbs (next paragraph). His arms were big in a burly, manual labor way, along with big hands and stubby fingers.

His belly was arguably my favorite part (though he hadn’t taken off his jeans yet…) Despite big muscles, he had a perfectly round fluffy belly that looked absolutely perfect to lay my head on and melt away. His belly and love handles ever so slightly hung over his jeans.

He had his flannel shirt drooped over his shoulder. Ugh such a sexy pose. “Let me hang your shirt up.” My momma raised me right. He handed me his shirt but, then to my surprise, he began to unbutton his jeans. What took maybe 3-4 seconds felt like hours, and my heart was racing. Like I said, I’m usually a top, and I’m definitely an ass man. But I have an appreciation for a good cock, and a manly man like Sal. When he showed me (shoved my head onto) his cock (see part 4), I went primal. That big cock and those giant balls consumed my focus. I laughed to myself thinking how uncurious I was while sucking him off, completely ignoring my favorite part on the male body: DA ASS.

“What’s so funny?” Sal chuckled. Shit, here my mind was wandering off, wandering what his ass would look like, when I was about to find out. As his jeans rolled down, I saw the familiar white underwear. No stains, just old and faded. Again despite being an ass man, his gigantic cock popped out at me. Well that’s because it literally was popping out of his underwear. I could see the massive pipe laying on top of though two huge balls. They were so heavy and the underwear was so old, it could barely support his triad of Italian glory.

I couldn’t tell if the underwear were tight because of his massive cock, or because of the tree trunks protruding from beneath him. Ugh what massive strong legs. Or, was it actually what was behind him that was tearing at his underwear. Since he was facing me, I couldn’t see behind him, but I needed to…. I swear I was hypnotized, I could only see the sides of his ass which stuck out much wider than his legs.

“Helloooooo Kevinnnnn” Sal was waiving a hand in my face. Holy shit, I was zoning out again. He noticed I was staring at his ass and chuckled. “What is it hypnotizing you?” He suddenly turned and for the first time I think I saw what Natalie Portman in Black Swan was trying to be: Perfect (gay joke – get over it closet cases). Straight men generally prefer those big bubbly Beyonce booties - perfectly round. Gay bears tend to prefer the wide muscley, manly butt

Somehow Sal’s ass was both. Wide, meaty, round, bubbly, and big. Oh doggy.

Without realizing it, I was actually leaning in towards his butt. It was like something out of a bad comedy. “Woah, that’s a one way street bub, sorry.” He put his hand on my head and spun so his ass was facing away. Being a versatile guy who tops 80% of the time, my pet peeve is gay men who think they’re “too manly” to bottom. TBH I wasn’t even thinking about topping him, I just wanted my face in it. I was angry for about .03 seconds, until he turned his body, and his cock and big balls were right in front of my face. I dove in like I was a Syrian Refugee who hadn’t eaten in days, mouthing at his cock almost angrily. I needed it. “Woah woah woah. Calm down partner. Let’s go lay down”

I was almost angry at him again until I felt him push me forward off the couch on to my feet, and guide me into my bedroom. Again, I usually like to be in control, so the fact that this big burly man was establishing dominance in my own home was challenging my ego. But maybe turning me on.

He went to open the window, of my 13th floor apartment in the upper west side in the middle of February. It was freezing outside. “What are you doing?”

“I know it’s cold, but trust me.” I had been so consumed by his body I had forgotten about his manly gas. Come to think of it, it had been a whole 10 minutes and he hadn’t ripped once. Oh no, was he out of gas? “I’ll cuddle you close and keep you warm. Hearing that I ripped off my clothes, minus my underwear and pounced into bed. In only his underwear (ugh), he got in on the side closest to the window.

We were facing each other and he had his ass towards the window. (Good thinkin Sal) Before I could make the first move, he reached his big arms, one over top and around my back, resting his big manly hands on the tiny flap of skin (which had I not been a gym rat, would be love handles) while his other arm went underneath my arm lying on the bed and up around my back, grabbing the back of my head. Then he effortlessly pulled me up against his massive body. My first thought: scent. No not gas (pervs). He smlled like pure musky man. That sent you can’t wash off. My head started spinning.

I next noticed his completely furry body. Oh the hair drove me wild. The third sensation was him kissing, no shoving his tongue into my mouth. But what drove me over the edge was him pressing his hips into my hips aka his massive growing cock right into mine. Yup that sent me back into primal mode. I reached and grabbed the giant cock that though soft was growing bigger.

My animal instinct came lose as I pushed Sal’s shoulder and shoved him onto his back. Not sure if I was actually strong to do so or he was just being nice. With my hand still on his cock I started jacking that massive cock as he lay on his back. With my other hand I massaged those two gigantic balls. If you had a fetish for big balls, this guy would drive you insane (among other fetishes).

His cock growing bigger and bigger in my hand. This 9 inch beast, maybe 10 when fully erect, could not possible get any stiffer. It’s thickness drove me crazy, and I could not fully wrap my fingers around it. He started moaning loudly. Then I felt precum ooze out of his tip. Holy shit, Talk about a horny Italian.

He suddenly stopped and held his breath. I felt his whole body start to tremble. It made me nervous, oh man, was he going to explode? Kaboom, shot the first load, maybe 5 feet into the air, and then came spluttering down on my back. The next rope shot 4 feet and also landed on my back, as did the remaining 7 hot wet thick ropes. Jesus it was like a fountain.

My back was covered in hot cum and I didn’t want to move. “Phew man!” Sal laughed then reached over top of me and grabbed my boxers off the floor to wipe the cum off my back and the remaining around his cock. In the morning I would wake up with a kinky smirk knowing I would have to wear my boxers covered with his cum.

Pt. 5, b)

Sal rolled onto his back, and grabbed my head and laid it on his massive hairy chest while wrapping his big arm around me. I felt his heart beating. He pulled my blanket over top of us and said “Good night buddy.”

I only suddenly then realized that he hadn’t ripped ass in over half an hour. Was all that gas just a fluke? Despite his massive sexy body, his T-Rex sized gas oddly turned on and wanted more.

My thoughts were suddenly cut short as I felt his body tense up as he bit his lower lip. I swear the blanket actually fluttered some as he released a powerful loud blast that I felt blow on my leg. I could tell he had been holding it in and looked like it was painful for him to release. Almost as if, it was such a big fart, it was too big to squeeze out his sphincter. He let out a deep long sigh and I chuckled.

Not 10 seconds later I felt him hold his breath again as he let out rumbling fog horn. Again the blanket fluttered and this time I swear, I could almost feel the bed vibrate. The fog horn lasted a good 10 seconds. “Jesus Christ Sal” He just laughed and lifted the blanket to “air” it out. Sal then wafted the air and, well, it returned. I swear the entire room filled up with thick gas. I coughed a few times, genuinely struggling for air. And this was with the windows open.

He was smiling, but looked down at me seriously. “Kevin if you feel like you can’t breathe, just make sure you leave the room.” He made direct eye contact with me and I could tell he was being 100% serious. “Nothing too bad ever happened but I don’t want to take any chances.” He kissed me on my forehead and put his head back. Within under a minute he was emanating a light, yet manly growling snore. It was cute and I fell asleep shortly after

Despite being outrageously comfortable and content sleeping in his arms, I could have slept through the night, if not for well, yeah you predicted it. Every hour or so, I’d get woken up by that same pattern: a sonic boom followed by a fog horn, followed by a putrid smell that even without him lifting up the blanket could fill the room. I wondered what under my thick winter blanket smelled like in a curious yet sexually devious yet slightly nervous fashion

The biggest problem wasn’t that farts the that were waking me up; it was that they were turning me on and I hadn’t cum yet. I was crazy horny. I couldn’t sleep due to my frustration. At about 3am after 4-5 sonic boom/fog horn combos, I saw Sal was out like a lamp. Snoring loud (and manly). He ripped one huge sonic boom/fog horn combo fart. The biggest so far. I saw his face flinch and his body tense up. He muttered something inaudible and despite visible relief he was completely unconscious. Wow he was a heavy sleeper. (that turned me on too).

The horny bastard in me, devised a devious plan. If he can sleep through those boomers, he surely can sleep through a blowjob. (You’s reading this might think that’s weird but I’m a man and I have needs.) Here I am sleeping next to a gassy, manly, tyrannosaurs Rex, who’s got a thick cock and balls full of cum. I grew lustful thinking about beating my own meat while I sucked on his massive cock. Hell, he’ll probably just think he’s having a wet dream. He might not remember it in the morning.

So like a greedy little piggy, I dove in under the covers…. But like all greedy pigs, I got what was coming… All of Sal’s massive gas earlier would seem like child’s play compared to what came next. In the next 5 minutes, I truly learned the extent of his gaseous power, and how genuinely inhuman this man was…

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debu-neko-kun · 6 years

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12XL: One Size Fits All

This was a commission for somebody on Discord. I was given the prompt “Guy grows huge from magic underwear” and, well, we have this! One of my favorite growth methods, I gotta say. Anyway, enjoy a slender Korean lad growing quite large.

Kae yawned and stretched his slender arms, squinting against the bright sun as he awoke. Despite the rays on his pale, freckled skin, he shivered like an ice storm bore down on him and shuffled to the bathroom on zombie-like autopilot. The light above the sink flickered as he waited for the bathtub to fill, his tailbone pressing uncomfortably against the seat cover of the toilet. Just as well, he thought as he stared at the same thin, sunken features as always. Sharp, boring jaw lines, a sharp chin, piercing blue eyes. Narrow, cold, lacking… something. But what? As he sank into the warm water, he pondered this. What could possibly make him love himself? What push, nudge, poke in the right direction could he possibly find? He had a nice job, a decent apartment, time enough for himself. Sure, he didn’t exactly have an insane amount of friends… or any… and sure, his love life was lacking… severely… but what was stopping him from just going out and finding somebody? He had options! There was Steve in accounting… no, he was with Brad, right. Tom, in publishing? Zip, he was straight as an arrow. John? Forget it. Kae sank deeper into the steamy bath water, out of the stream of morning light. There was only really one man he wanted… “Don’t think about it.” he murmured to himself. Too late. James. The name curled around his mind tight as a noose, bringing a fresh red flush to his cheeks. He’d first laid eyes on the gentle creature nearly a month ago, after a particularly tiresome night at work. Muscles too weak to craft a meal from the fridge, he’d ordered out: a small pizza. When it arrived, he’d expected the same variety of highschool punk. Instead, he’d opened the door to find a cute, flustered, slightly-overweight cupid staring back at him. “Oh, uhm… hello there. Kae, publishing.” He’d smiled, offering his hand to the confused worker. “Uh, hey. Guess this is for you, Mr. Kae. Enjoy.” He responded softly, lips curling into a slight smile as he placed the pizza into his outstretched hand. “Yes… right, thank you. Goodbye.” And that was that. One awkward meeting on his doorstep and his heart was sent reeling, rolling into an abyss that bowled any thoughts of work for the next several days. Was this what a crush felt like? There was never any time for them before now, only flings, but something about James sparked a flame in his lonely heart. A few days later, hungry and bored, he skimmed through the advertisements on the community page, spotting the same pizza place he’d ordered from a few nights earlier. They weren’t far, and the food was good… Before he could consider other options, Kae was already at the front counter, ordering a medium cheese from a 400 lb highschooler. He gave him a smile and waddled to the back while Kae found a seat, and that’s when he saw it: The kiss. James, pizza boy James, cupid James, “Would you like a coffee with me?” James, wrapped up in the arms of a man at least five times his weight, exchanging soft, passionate kisses beneath the neon light of the arcade games in the corner. The lights stained the memory pink, made his stomach flip just thinking about it. The way James grabbed his overflowing backfat, the way their chubby chins pushed and rubbed together, the way their massive thighs intertwined… Kae submerged his head beneath the lukewarm water in the present. Be happy for him, he thought. You were just too late. Too late and not his type. Just as he thought his eyes would explode from holding in hot tears, the buzzer sounded out at the door. Kae quickly surfaced and slipped out of the tub, wrapping himself in an absorbent blue bathrobe before rushing off to the door, just as the buzzer rang again. “Who is it?” he asked, holding down the call button. “Delivery!” sang a voice from below, high and excited. “Delivery? I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong house-” “One package for a mister Kae Chi-gon, 8th floor, Room 255. Special delivery, I need a signature please!” Kae sighed and leaned his head against the buzzer panel. “Come on up. It’s unlocked.” He heard a boyish giggle before letting up on the button, moving to unlock the door. Before he could even slide the latch back, a tiny knock rapped at his door. “What the-” he started, quickly pulling the door open to reveal a short, wide-hipped boy in what appeared to be some sort postal uniform, only far more gothic. Kae’s eyes were immediately drawn to the black khaki shorts that snugged tight against his bottom, doing nothing to slim the basketball butt and thick hips, only serving to accentuate his unnaturally pale thighs that bulged against his striped knee-high socks. “Allow me to introduce myself, mortal man! My name is P.M. Crowe, with the Incubus Delivery Service. I couldn’t help but feel your heart breaking, and deemed it necessary to invoke my services to get it back to tip top shape!” Kae squinted at the boy as he stood in the doorway, hand on one hip, his other slender arm clutching a box decorated with gold foil. “Is this some kind of prank? Did somebody at the office send you?” he scoffed. “I don’t think it’s very funny, now if you’ll excuse me-” Kae moved to shut the door, but Crowe quickly grabbed the edge of the frame. “W-Wait, don’t shut me out yet!” he begged, his tiny demon wing hair clip clinking against the door. “I can give you anything you want!” “I don’t want anything you can give, now go away!” he grunted, pushing harder on the door. “James is single!” Kae suddenly stopped pushing, heart catching in his throat. “…What did you just say?” With a little grunt, Crowe slipped his way inside, walking around to face Kae who now leaned with his back to the door. He took a moment to dust off his varsity jacket and straighten the tie beneath before continuing. “James is single. His boyfriend of three months left him, and he’s been rather sad. Heartbroken, actually, like you… which is why I’m here. To bring you two together and patch up some hearts!” “Yeah, well, good luck with that. I’ve seen his type. They’re… heftier… and look at me.” Kae gestured, pulling back his robe to reveal his ribs. “Not exactly a perfect match.” “You know, it’s not about-” Crowe began, but stopped as his watch beeped. “Oh great, I’m already behind schedule! Come on, man; sign for the package, and I can give you something to help with everything. Promise!” Kae eyed him suspiciously, arms crossed across his slender chest. “…Fine. Got a pen?” Crowe lit up like a match and produced a golden pen from his pocket. “I promise you won’t regret it! It’s the code of every Incubus Delivery Service postal worker to fix, mend, and otherwise bring light back into the hearts of the sullen, whether it’s by bringing together true love or creating a new one! And I, P.M. Crowe, promise to-” “Done. Didn’t you have somewhere to be?” Kae huffed. “Oh, right! Here’s your box, and remember to always be true to yourself! Gotta go, be seeing you, Mr. Kae!” Crowe called out as he squeezed past Kae and ran out the door, which quickly closed by itself, leaving behind a comical puff of pink smoke. Kae stood for a few moments, box under his arm, trying to process what just happened. Incubus? James? This is all too bizarre… could anything he said have really been true? Only one way to find out. Kae cautiously peeled the tape back, letting the cardboard flaps spring open. Too dark to see inside, he put his hand in and grabbed a clump of thick fabric, pulling it out to the light. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” he sighed, letting the box fall to the floor. In his hands, stretched out further than his body spanned, was a pair of white briefs big enough to wrap around a couch. The tag on the back was nothing but a dozen Xs and an L, a testament to their size, surely signing itself as nothing more than a gag gift. Flipping them around, he could see a massive heart print on the back, hanging loosely like a spent parachute. “That little…” he began, lips tightening in frustration. Suddenly, he stopped himself letting out a long, breezy exhale. “Don’t lose it, Kae. Just some… weird little punk from the pizza place, an elaborate prankster. Unless- no, no.” he shook his head, retreating to his bedroom with the garment still clutched to his fingers. He quickly set to work, laying out his clothing for the day: one pair of black socks, one pressed shirt, slacks… …and an empty underwear drawer. He cursed his luck and lack of laundry planning, spinning around to scan his pristine room for any stray undergarments that may have escaped (as unlikely as that may be.) He searched, moving around through other drawers and over the wardrobe before giving up, retreating back to the bed… and the oversized underwear. “I… guess If I fold it correctly, nobody will notice…” he murmured to himself, letting his robe slip to the floor. He put the underwear down and inserted one leg, then the other, feeling like a dainty cheerleader in a football locker room as he pulled the undies up to his waist and nearly to his chest. “Heh… looking good, Kae.” He chuckled, turning around to admire his cloth-cloaked backside in the full-sized mirror. He shook it a few times, giggling as it bounced back and forth gently. Wait… bounced? No part of his body had bounced a day in his life. He was, and always had been, for all intents and purposes, a stick. So why is he now staring at a pair of quickly thickening ass cheeks and a roll-covered back? Kae rapidly spun himself back around to face the mirror, the new additions to his body nearly dragging him over. His stomach sagged out, quickly filling up the empty space in the once-roomy waistband with blubber-packed belly. He slowly reached down in disbelief, gently prodding at the ever-expanding rolls with his dimpled fingers that quickly plumped into thick little sausages. “How is this happening?…” he breathed, moving his hands up to feel his cheeks thicken and swell against his rapidly disappearing neck, the space of which replaced by a blossoming second chin that seemed to get closer to his blobby man-breasts by the second. The underwear that seemed so impossibly large only a moment ago now began to tighten against his belly, the band squeezing between two overhanging lovehandles at his sides and hugging his lightly-sweating doughy buttcheeks like a pair of scanty panties. Kae was lost, lost in himself, in the moment, in the sensations. He should be panicking, he thought. Scream, call an ambulance! But… His arm fat dipped down like a pair of flabby bingo wings, patting against the massive dollop of sour cream that was his belly as he reached up to squeeze his breasts, pert pink nipples and luscious, creamy fat bulging between his bloated fingers. …it feels so good! His cheeks flushed rose red as he slid his hands back, into his waistband, squeezing his cellulite-laden butt fat in his palms. Warm, sweaty fat, at least 500 pounds of it and steadily growing, all him… gone was the sharp chin, replaced with a double that jiggled with a quick turn of his head (not that much of anything about him would be quick anymore.) Sunken ribs were swapped with an unending expanse of rolls and lovehandles that contained so much lardy flab, thin thighs with bags of fat that smooshed and sagged well past a defining line. He hugged himself, the growth jolting forward in one last jump of weight as if to reach out and hug him back, rewarding him with so much more warmth and total comfort. Just as the weight climb trickled to a rapid halt, a knock sounded at the door. “H-Huh?… Wait, that boy, Crowe!” he muttered, snapping back from his warm daze. “Coming!” he called, voice somewhat deeper than it had been before, taking a wobbly step out of the bedroom and into the hall, holding onto the frame for comfort. Every booming step was accompanied by a resounding creak from the floorboards and a jiggle from his near-naked body, butt swaying and belly patting against his thighs. By the time he reached the door, his flabby body had accumulated a slick shine of sweat, and his heavy chest heaved with exhausted breaths. This is going to take some getting used to… he thought, opening the door for his visitor. “Ten large pizzas for Kae-” James. The two stood, staring into eachother’s eyes, in complete shock. “Oh… my god… K-Kae? What happened to you? Are you okay?!” James blurted, rushing into the apartment, leaving the bag of pizzas in the hall. “Just… gained a little weight, is all.” he replied, putting his hands on his belly, the flabby pale flesh blushing pink like a christmas ham. “B-But you were so thin! What happened?” “Well, I just decided to pack a bit on. Nothing else to it.” Kae shrugged, turning away. “It, um… it looks really cute on you.” James blushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You… really think so?” Kae looked back over his pudgy shoulder, whole body practically blushing. “Well, y-yeah… y-you want to, umm… well, do you want to get something to eat sometime?” James rushed, holding onto his hat like a life preserver. “Well, I do have ten pizzas now, don’t I? I could use a hand.” he purred, tugging on the sides of his waist band, the design pulling into a perfect heart between his huge cheeks. “…l-let me just call my boss.”

#SSBHM #Fat Boy #yaoi #gay fats #magic fattening #This was actually really fun to do!#just took me forever lmao

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empresskatariah · 6 years

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Prologue

Fomorians were sea-folk, though they hadn’t always been, and those that took to land were often weakened by the absence of water. There was enough of their previous form left to give them proper legs and a means of breathing, but not even their tremendous reserves of magic could keep their skins from drying out. Containing one was simply a matter of waiting until dehydration set in and slowed it up.

But tonight the stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds that kept dumping torrents of rain. The air was heavy and humid, dank with the stench of wet asphalt that had been dry for too long. Oz surveyed the cityscape from his perch atop a high-rise for some bank or another, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his raincoat while the other held onto a small radio. His slitted pupils dilated as he scanned the streets for any sign of activity, then narrowed slightly as the radio crackled.

“Do you see anything?” came the query, a masculine but youthful tone.

“Nah. Sky’s still pissin’. Don’t bode well if it’s the Fomoire about.”

Oz’s voice was a stark contrast to the one from the radio. He spoke quietly but gruffly, with the barest hint of a lilting Scots’ brogue. Baritone with a growl, someone had said once; Oz didn’t disagree with that assessment.

“You never know, maybe it’s just another Kelpie and someone overreacted. It wouldn’t be the first time. I mean, how many years has it been since one of the Deep Ones came ashore?”

Oz’s face scrunched into a scowl and he opened his mouth to retort, but then his jaw clicked shut without a word. It was moments like this one that made him feel tired, or perhaps old was a better word for it.

“Three decades, give or take a couple years. Doesn’t feel that long to me, though.”

“Cheer up, old man.” A laugh came through the speaker. “Odds are we get to finish up here soon and then we’ll go to Waffle House, my treat.”

Oz’s eyes widened. Suddenly the promise of Waffle House shone like a flaming beacon in the midst of this dismal murk, beckoning him onward. He leaned forward, peering out at the desolate vista with renewed interest.

“Better be ready to pay dearly, then,” he said slyly, one corner of his mouth pulling upward in a toothy grin, “because I haven’t had waffles in–”

A scream cut him off. It was a man’s shriek of terror, a raw and desperate sound that cut through the muggy air like a knife. As if on cue, lightning lit up the sky and a clap of thunder followed merely half a second behind.

“What was that?” the radio demanded.

“I’m on it,” Oz grunted, stuffing the radio into his pocket as he lunged.

The ground was many stories down, at least twenty floors, but Oz hurled himself over the edge with no hesitation. For a moment he was flying, in the next he was falling – he plummeted carelessly as the air roared past him, his raincoat flapping noisily as he went.

He closed his eyes. Wondered how big of a splat he’d make if he just stayed like this and hit the ground. Wondered how long it would take to come back from a mess like that.

I always land on my feet, he thought absently, and dissipated into a cloud of black smoke.

When he reformed he was standing where he’d envisioned going splat, on a curb surrounded by loose litter and dead leaves. A large plastic bag full of waste lay nearby with several stray cats helping themselves to its contents. When Oz passed them by they stared at him, heads turning in unison as their eyes tracked him.

“It’s the King,” one of them murmured in cat-speech, amazed.

“Not anymore,” Oz growled, continuing on his way without pause.

He was glad for the lack of human presence on a night like this. It meant he could move faster than any human should without attracting unwanted attention. A man of his appearance had no business sprinting up Seventh Street at the speed of a cruising car, and yet he did so with ease. When he came to a large puddle he cleared it in a single leap, never losing his balance for an instant.

It should be around here, I know I heard it coming from this direction…

He skidded to a halt as another scream sounded. It echoed from the dark recess of a nearby alleyway, where a single electric light flickered intermittently. Immediately Oz felt an oppressive aura emanating from the shadows, a force of sheer wrongness permeating the rainy haze and causing his skin to prickle into gooseflesh. He only realized he was clenching his teeth when his jaw began to ache. Slowly, carefully he took the radio from his pocket and pressed the button.

“I know this stench,” he said quietly. “It’s one of Them. Put everyone on high alert.”

“A Deep One? A real Fomorian?” Oz could tell his comrade was truly afraid. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Aye.” Oz drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. “Listen. Perce. You’re a good kid. A brave one. But I’m tellin’ you, you need to sit this one out. Let me handle it. I’ve been at this a lot longer than you and believe me, you’re better off stayin’ where you are.”

“Like hell I am,” Percy scoffed. “I’m your handler, Oz. You’re my responsibility. As if I’d just let you face something like that on your own. I’m coming and I’m bringing backup, all right? You just wait for–”

Oz turned the radio off. Tossed it aside. It skittered over the pavement and clanged against a metal trash can.

“Backup,” he spat, shaking his head as if the notion was ludicrous. “Guess I’m to hurry, then.”

Advancing into the alley was like pushing through a series of disgusting membranes. It was completely invisible, even to fey sight, but Oz could feel the presence trying to ward him off with a field of pure thought meant to dredge up his every fear. To a human it might have been overwhelming, perhaps enough to induce insanity, but to Oz it was an annoyance.

The closer he got, however, the worse it became. When he looked down at his hands he was greeted with the illusion of being covered in a horde of slimy things that pulsed and quivered like disembodied intestines. When he breathed it felt like swallowing bile. His sanity remained intact, his intellect coolly refuting the falsehoods, but it was still monumentally unpleasant.

So distracted was he by the psychic onslaught that he failed to realize he had found the crime scene until his foot stepped on something soft instead of pavement. When he looked down he saw a hand. Just a hand. The blood leaking out of its stump of a wrist was still fresh.

“Oh,” he said aloud, and dared to lift his gaze.

The sight that assaulted him was something not meant to exist. It was a creature whose composition had been dictated by mankind’s fear of the unknown, specifically man’s fear of what lay hidden beneath the ocean. It was vaguely humanoid but obscenely inhuman, a conglomeration of gills and eyes and tentacles that inflicted itself upon reality with malevolent iron will.

It was a Fomorian. And it was still eating what appeared to be a homeless man.

Oz considered his options. Ending this quickly meant going all-out, but going all-out meant his compatriots would have… difficulties dealing with the aftermath. The rain was still falling in copious amounts, meaning this beast wouldn’t run out of hydration anytime soon. It would be a long and ultimately costly fight that would likely decimate this part of the city.

You are afraid to give in to your true nature?

Oz hissed and covered his ears with his hands, though he knew it was a futile gesture. The question had been projected directly into his mind.

“I’m not afraid,” he snapped, unwilling to give the Fomorian the satisfaction of conversing as it wished to. “I’m just pissed off. Why are you here? There’s nothin’ for you here on land.”

I could say the same for you, the entity replied. Its tone was flat and emotionless, much like the text-to-speech voices human devices produced. Why do you continue to play human, Irusan?

“Don’t call me that,” Oz snarled. “It’s complicated. And you’re avoidin’ the question. Why. Are. You. Here?”

He awakens soon. No longer will we be imprisoned Below in the ruined depths of Atlantis. We shall walk the Earth again as we did in the days of mighty Balor. We shall shed these cursed forms and reclaim our land from the Usurpers.

At the mention of Balor Oz’s glare deepened and he clenched his hands into fists. Tufts of black fur were beginning to emerge from beneath his sleeves. As he bared his teeth at the enemy, he could feel that his canines had elongated.

“Fuck Balor,” he declared, “and fuck you. I’m giving you one chance to go crawlin’ back into the depths and that’s it. One. Or I’ll tear you apart and turn you into pâté.”

The Deep One tossed aside what was left of its dinner and regarded Oz with what could be presumed as contempt, since its features were unsuited for expressing emotion. It was a smaller variant compared to others of its kind, but it still filled the entire alleyway and towered at least two stories.

You should be our ally, it complained. Your behavior is illogical.

“I’ve never been much good at doing what’s expected of me,” Oz growled, stooping down like a coiled spring ready to unleash, sharp claws emerging from the tips of his gloves.

“OZ!”

A shot rang out and the Fomorian recoiled as it was struck by an iron bullet. Vile vapors billowed from the wound and it loosed a psychic scream that brought Oz to his knees. He could hear cries of anguish behind him as the human personnel who had come to aid him were assailed by mental violence they had no way of fighting against. Despite his own pain, he managed to turn and saw Percy still upright, albeit on one knee.

“Percy, you fool,” he managed.

The man whose face was still that of a boy scowled and raised his handgun. Blood was trickling from his nose and ears but he stubbornly persisted, firing off another shot at the eldritch being.

“I called for more backup,” Percy yelled, his teeth stained red. “I told them to bring everyone. I–”

His eyes bulged and rolled up, showing only their whites, as his body began to tremble. The hand holding his gun swayed left, then right, then planted the weapon’s barrel firmly against Percy’s temple.

Human puppet, the Deep One rumbled. Die.

Oz reached out toward Percy, fingers spreading in vain as Percy’s life ended in a bang and a spray of red mist.

A memory flashed through Oz’s mind unbidden, a crystal-clear remembrance of the day they had first shaken hands.

Hi, I’m Percival Ainsley. You must be Oz! I’ve heard so much about you. I think we’ll work well together, you and I.

As he watched the young man’s body crumple to the ground, Oz felt the last tether that had been holding him back snap.

“I’ll kill you,” he bellowed, his voice deepening into a roar as he turned to face the enemy. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill...”

The sound of meat being skewered cut him off. The realization didn’t set in until Oz’s eyes followed the tentacles that had extended into his own torso, one shoved directly beneath his heart while the other had stabbed through his right side. The pain was oddly distant, save the immediate annoyance of his left lung collapsing.

“Kill you,” he wheezed, grabbing hold of one protrusion with both hands. It was strong but so was he; rage fueled him as he twisted the tentacle in an effort to remove it.

You have become weak, the Fomorian noted dispassionately. And with that it lifted him and slammed him into a brick wall with enough force to break through, sending up a cloud of dust as debris scattered.

The next few minutes seemed to last for hours. Oz slowly became aware of many things: the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, the pain of several broken ribs, a burning sensation that might be a punctured organ or two, and the fact that his right arm had become completely dislocated. His head felt wrong, as if his skull had cracked open like a walnut’s shell. Instead of getting to his feet as he wished to do, he could only struggle as his body refused to do more than thrash around feebly. A killing rage still burned in his chest, but it burned in vain.

“Dammit,” he swore, coughing violently. “Damn you.”

He’d been too slow. Too indecisive. Too willing to give a monster a chance to stand down, too attached to old allegiances that meant nothing now…

Percy. Lad. I’m sorry.

His left hand reached out, trembling, but grasped nothing. Then it fell and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Sounds of battle drifted to him from what seemed a far distance, though he knew they were mere meters away. Reinforcements had arrived. Oz had no doubt they would be able to kill the Fomorian, or at least harass it until it decided to flee back to the sea. But he could no longer muster the energy to care about victory or defeat. Simply breathing was a Herculean labor now.

Not again. Not again...

His last thought, as his heart ceased to beat and one last breath passed through his lips, was of waffles.

#a redux of what i posted yesterday bc i remembered the ending i wanted #my writing #reck/less #oz tag #this has bad language and violence y'all

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christinamariehollis · 7 years

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My Mind It’s strange when the thing that once hurt you most ceases to hurt anymore and you realize the only person who hurts you now is yourself. Maybe time does heal all wounds, but skin is so much easier to break when it’s been cut open before and addiction’s knife cuts paths like water through stone. My skin is weak. Recovery only works for those who wish to be healed. I thought I was strong enough to face this alone; I’m not, but I will. Writing is what keeps me sane, or at least as sane as I get.

Beauty is the Beast I knew not the perils of the beast, only that I had finally seen perfection; seen what I was evermore determined to become. It was wrong of me to blame him, for I solely created her. But not so wrong of me to say I was “inspired.” Perhaps initially through myself, but mostly through him. Regardless, this was my doing. I alone gave birth to a monster so real, so vivid, that I now risk my life to keep her alive. For I took her in, held her in my arms to hide her from the world. But the longer I kept her there, the more I longed for her silent perfection to be my own. And finally I swallowed her whole. So it began, and so it remains. She lives within me now, hidden, sheltered, like something abhorrent. My deepest secret. She used to rest, used to allow me a will at some point. But now it seems she never sleeps. But this is what I longed for. I traded my soul for a chance at perfection. And this is only the beginning…

Castle, Castle I’m starting to believe I was born with this. That it lie silent throughout my youth only to rear its head and plague me later. It slept with in me until its opportunity arrived, to grasp and feed on what made it thrive: my mind. And now it grows so large that it seeps through my pores and clings to all that I hold dear, spreading its seed to grow within a separate host. It is the arsenic, and I am the sugar. It lies unnoticed, for I strive to stand guard and protect my poison. It destroys all it comes in contact with. Simple, how such a thing can be overlooked, for it takes pleasure in the kill. It progresses at a painstakingly slow rate, and relishes in the time elapsed to annihilate its victim. Oh, it’s precise, fastidious in fact. All the while keeping in sync with the rhythm my pulse sets, as my heart swells beneath my skin.

Speak There are times where I lose my voice and all my thoughts fly at the sides of my head, like the thousands of tiny birds that hit my windows at night. I hear their wings flapping always, a constant whooshing that fills my ears and blocks out the sounds of the earth. They are the fog that clouds my head, the wind that propels me onward, my army. And with these forces my eyes have closed to reality and opened to a world where realism ceases to exist. Short, my days are, away from my home. For I never have to think, walk, hear, speak. I’m here solely for the sake of filling an empty chair. I live for simply that, being.

The Heart of a Lion Weak and paranoid, when I speak white noise pours out from my voice. Every time I move my lips, it tears their ears to bits. I rasp out in codes, call out in gasps, for my airway remains blocked, and I can hardly choke out fragments of scattered thoughts. Eyes move briskly, and spin me in circles, so I end where I have begun. I’m frozen in time; a deer in headlights. The heart of a lion, yet it beats like a hummingbird.

Prince, Prince Oh, the night will come, where these flames will grow as high as the trees that consume me. And time will stop to spark fire in my eyes. Shards of desire, I’ll find you some day. We’ll play this game over and over again, with no new meaning. He’ll redefine perfection, and hopefully I’ll be enough. It only takes two pairs of hands to set light tonight. She’ll smile for me, place brilliance in pain, and the earth will come to a halt, for one night, time will stop. I’m on my way to the top of the world, and I’m not afraid to burn. I’m not afraid to burn. I wanted more, more than this life.

Ants Time was shorter than I knew. It used to drip and ooze through me, glob like batter at the corners of my fingertips. So slow, blue eyes, I would cry “let me go.” Now I would do anything for my seconds to stand still. It’s never safe to rely on the borrowed. I thought of them coming to take what I had given up, to collect what I could not keep in. Picking up the time I could not hold, and dragging it away in pieces to their burrows. Crawling, those ants, to what I thought I had thoroughly cleaned. I fathom I’ve failed at that as well. Time, time, my time, is stored away somewhere in holes deep underground, miles away, buried so deep I will never find my, my time.

Jealousy My head is heavy, swimming with acid and flu vaccination, I’m dizzy and tripping, clawing at this hole at the bottom of my rib cage. Good luck trusting him to fill your gap, little girl, little girl, he’ll make you cry real soon. And good luck true love, take her captive, prod her with your concrete eyes, make her squirm like you did for me, oh, will you do it again? Will you? Give her the beast! Why don’t you show her how you “inspired” me? Oh, you got me thinking a little deeper, and before you knew it I had spawned a tragedy. Well, look at me now! Look at the monster you gave life to! Look at me! Am I good enough now? I see the monster everywhere, in the cracks of concrete, the emerald green of my mother’s eyes. Smiling always, smirking at my inability to succeed, to finish what I’ve started. I never try, never try hard enough, and yet I want this, rods and bones, skin and flesh, but it never will be.

Kryptonite Your words linger, remnants from last night, they jump from synapse to synapse sending pulses of pure energy through my veins. I still feel the static from your electric touch, feel the sensation of your finger tips as they grazed my hips, guiding me back. Your palm on the small of my back, my soul thirsting for more, more contact from your nimble hands. And now you’re feeding the beast. Again, I find myself enthralled with eyes, captivated by concrete. And once more I’m searching for blue, overlooking the lies I’ve been fed countless times. Seconds stand still with every look, you’re drowning me again, again with those concrete eyes that see through mine like they’re not even there, like the atmosphere I’m still floating on. Looking past the air in my sockets to my insides, to things I hide from everyone, everyone but you. I’ve force myself again into this compromising position; I’m out of control. She asked me, “Did you just do what what I think you did?” Not tonight, kryptonite.

Old Habits Die Hard What found me first, was it you? The beast? Oh, insanity, what I would give to melt away, to liquefy from within myself, to ooze out my pores, and drip on the ground. For my flesh to hang like skin should; loose and dry off my bones. Dry like my mouth, which stays hinged together, fused by my lips, welded by my jaw. Dry like my eyes, that open for my mouth, but only literally. “We are always ripe and ready to be taken.” My fingers are restless, and beat at all they can grasp. They pound, and scratch, and bleed. Rust and salt, the taste is familiar. I want to finish what I’ve started. I want my silver spoon to hit my mouth where it should. I want what I’ve taken in to move back out. It burns inside me, acid, oh, let me melt.

The Sun It seems I won’t hold my breath, and I can’t hold my tongue. And my life seems to drift into dream like reality, where clocks spin backwards and time pools in the corners of my eyes. Seconds trickle back out my throat and down the corners of my mouth, coming to a halt inches above the ground. The rooms revolves at its center, the cracks in the floor become ceiling tiles, and I find my eyes rolling back, flashing white, as my body begs for sleep. It’s a slow rush, the best feeling in the world.

Downtown Living The beast rose, in human form, and stood before me, on ridged legs she balanced. She bowed her crown of silver gems, lowering sunken eyes to meet with mine and asked me: “Is this what you want?” A question for which I gave no reply. She asked me to look at her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t muster the strength to rip my eyes from her skeletal hands. Before her I am nothing, and she is everything I long to be. Her breath is arsenic, oh, how I long to drink this poison, to melt her within myself, to become what I envy. She roams my dreams at night, shooting smirks in my direction, her twisted smile permanently reflected in my eyes, she laughs at what I will never be, at what I will never be.

Fever I watched my insides seep through my pores, I recall looking in the mirror, stunned by the act occurring. They oozed out my mouth, dripped from my eyes like water would run from a kitchen faucet. My body liquified from within itself, it’s remnants dancing down my face, meeting mind way, then running full speed from my cheeks to my neck. I gazed in horror as they pooled down my body, dripping carelessly from my shaking hands, sliding down my finger tips. I couldn’t hold them in; I was melting. Their scent hung to my clothes, draped me in a pool of sweat that I could not scrub clean. And all the while she laughed at my misery, she took pleasure in my suffering, chanting: “Is this what you want? Is this what you want?” Oh, but it is.

Red Hands I’ve dried up my luck, dried up my life trying to fill the gaps solely I have created. Always working to please, always working towards euphoric living. Yet even euphoria fails to keep me whole, it leaves me empty and alone, wanting more and more with each lurch from my silver spoon. Revenge is deadly in my hands, revenge on my own skin, my own body. For the only person who hurts me is myself, the only person I seek revenge on is myself. And my flaws scream like open mouths, like red hands prodding at my eyes, eyes now burning from scars of past mistakes. Now the beast bellows from within me, turning my sweet lullabies and foolish childhood dreams into wind, carrying them away, forever gone, forever more. I cling for my wonderland, scream for the innocence you stole away from me with your red hands, hands I didn’t ask to lace my skin, but they did, and I let them. How, fully grown could you do this to me? Adult’s red hands on a child’s body. I am unclean, I am unclean, and now he will never feel again the love he once so foolishly spent on me.

The Bear Tell me how I became so tangled in words I vowed I would never speak? A muzzle fused with hate, hate in it’s purest form. A disgust so deep that only those who know the beast can see. I feel her hands tapping at the ends of my fingertips, always restless longing to escape, longing to touch him through my hands, all of my pleasure is hers alone. What is left for me? He sleeps short miles away, swears he wants to see, but he’s looking for her, not looking for me. She shines as bright as city lights, lights I will never see. But still I sense her in the corners of my eyes, glowing neon red, ready to drip out. She longs to be free, free of me, to pull her face over mine. I wish she would with silent cheekbones, oh, I pray she could with nimble hands. Rip through me. I was full but still she’s hungry, hungry to feed off moments like these, moments where I am uncertain, she sends whispers of doubt through my ears. They can’t see, a monster so silent to the world, but so loud to me.

Replies The beast has found love, found a friend in which to share a twisted smirk, a crooked smile, soft whispers of mockery exchanged before my eyes. A person so close yet so far from the beast, my sister in blood and soul, asks me for things I cannot give, asks me to speak, to speak of the beast. She asks me to leave my heart unguarded, to rest and fester on a table before her, to rot in the strokes of countless avid eyes, eyes that request things I cannot provide. “Health”, they ask, “sanity”, “sobriety”, things I do not posses, but have learned to fake so eloquently. But sister doesn’t know, how good it feels, a euphoric rush so strong, so sweet it sweeps warm through my blood, it seeps through every pore. This is addiction in all reality, now burning in every vain, slowing and speeding my hearts rate simultaneously. Sister wants to dance in dreams of shadows, oh, my manikin, I will watch your ballet from the audience, but it is I who puts on a show.

Lion’s Den I remember her clearly, the woman who lived down town. Frail and rigid, she slept in the lion’s den. Waiting, waiting among those beasts for her share of the pray. She wore a crown of silver gems, with emerald eyes and ivory skin. It was amazing to watch, such a fair woman living with those monsters, hunting, hunting with demons at night. It was Death that lived downtown, but not Death as Death is intended; no, Death was beautiful, Death was enticing. Death would roam within my city, visiting house to house in search of a partner to play in her games. Death came once to my door and asked me to dance; I grabbed her icy hand and a duet began. We stood on point, we ran, and spun; I kicked my legs, I flailed and leapt, I twirled my body into oblivion, and soon I could not stop. For through Death’s grip a spell was cast to which I shall forever be a slave. Death still graces my body, she wraps herself around my waist and spreads her smoke within me. I feel her in my throat, I feel her in my stomach, eating, eating my organs away. I feel her in my arms, I feel her in my hands, reaching, reaching for a silver spoon, just one more time, one more time. With every lurch I sense her in me, a subtle reminder that I have not left her sweet embrace. But I took Death’s hand when she asked me to dance, and now I cannot escape.

Aryan I watched you walk today, sloppy and uncoordinated, I often question your upbringing. It repulses me to know that you are impure, that half the “blood” that runs through you is truly bile. And yet I walk hand in hand with you so often, my sister, am I impure as well? Repulsion boils in my veins; I love you, but your blood, oh, your blood disgusts me. You don’t understand it, but this is who I was born to be. Straight from my mother’s womb, I was created with these intentions in mind. Fully self created, I was not forced fed my beliefs, but instead a willing victim to prejudice’s sweet taste; I lapped it greedily from my mind’s silver spoons. And so I am a hypocrite, I am a hypocrite for consorting with you. I smell your filthy mutt “blood” seeping through the pores in your hands as you reach for mine. How I long to flick your soiled fingers away, but I can’t, I can’t; you are my sister.

Sweet, Sweet You filled me to the brim; my body was flooded with your sweet, sweet syrup. It was such a magnificent thing, to be full for once in my life. But sickness never truly left my side, no, it seemed to mix and swell with your syrup to make something repulsive. Something sickeningly sweet. And you never said a word, but I knew. I knew you could taste it when we kissed. That glutenous bile would spill from my mouth every time we came in contact, and it drove you away. Now I’m hollow; and when I move I rattle like a shell within myself. My heart is torn and ripped away and my mind, my mind is all I have left. Yet my mind is more manic than ever. It’s in constant pursuit of something, something to fill that gap. To make me whole again.

This is Getting Old It’s hard to think with one thousand thoughts swimming in circles like coy fish round and round in my head. It’s hard to see with faceless memories clouding my eyes. It’s hard to hear when your words replay, ringing over and over again in my mind. It’s hard to feel when every touch reminds me of your hands, of your fingertips fused to mine, of your palms brushing my skin. It’s hard not to drink when I know that you’re sober. It’s hard not to smoke when I know that you’re clean. It’s hard to walk when I know you’re not guiding me. It’s hard to sit still when I know that you moved me. It’s hard to dream when my body occupies so little room in my bed. It’s hard to sleep when my mattress is swallowing me whole. It’s hard to leave when I know that you’ve left. It’s hard to stay when I know you were here. And it’s hard, it’s really, really hard to love when you’re still in my heart. You’re still in my heart.

Hypocrite Images of culture distort my thoughts. Let my ideas manifest, bringing a new light, or darkness perhaps, to an all too cloudy mind. Soot drips from disease, running dirty water through my veins. I am unclean, I am unclean. I brought this upon myself, but you, you were born into a life of filth. What you see is reflections, illusions I have created. “Great liars are also great magicians.” You hang from puppet strings I have fashioned with these fingers, strings I created with these hands. Move, move with every flick of my wrist. Dance, dance! Your ignorance is only amplified if you think you can control me. I’ll be back in your house, sleeping where you sleep. Will you lie awake at night? Or dream silently next to me? Can you rest with a monster in your room? You have no right, but judge me, judge me, your criticism only feeds my mind.

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manyformslori · 7 years

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The return of the weresmurf: Prolouge

OK! Welcome to ‘the return of the weresmurf’ story! The prologue here is years before the serious. This is AU, PLEASE understand that alright! I own no one but the OCs Aruascale, Achilles and Nightwillow. The rest belong to Peyo and Sony! There will be hetero and slash in this story-BEGIN! *throws down smokebomb, starting the story.* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 200 years ago We see a forest, calm and quiet as always at night. The light of a full moon beaming down on the enchanted forest. Where all its inhabitants were either just waking up or falling asleep...or just arriving ...Let's see who ,or what, just arrived shall we? At the entrance of the enchanted forest were two pixies. One being a fair skinned raven haired pixie, the hair going to her lower back in a braid,wearing a dark blue dress that went to her shins, finished with the same colored boots. Her amethyst eyes looking around in awe past her bangs as her amethyst wings fluttered as she and the pixie next to her flew. Said pixie being also fair skinned with red hair that went to her middle back, layered, wearing a red dress, poncho of red leaves and black boots.Her emerald green eyes looking around in suspicion. “You sure there are no wartmongers here?” the redhead asked as her green wings stopped flapping as she and her sister landed some miles in. The raven haired pixie rolled her eyes, saying “Yes Nightwillow, there is nothing here a wartmonger would like.” “Can’t be too careful Elderberry.” Nightwillow said with a annoyed sigh, her sister was to carefree and trusting. As Well as completely oblivious of a possible danger around her. It drove the redhead insane. Her sister would trust anyone! ...This was proven a few times in their life. Anyway, back in the present, the two continued on foot through the forest until they stumbled upon a clearing where a lone mushroom house stood. Elderberry looked around abit before saying “Odd place for a home, looks lonely here.” “Who cares, let's just keep going to find a place to camp.” Nightwillow said with a scoff, walking past the house...while her sister went to it. Flying up curiously, the pixie looked in through one of the windows, looking around inside. Her wings perked up in interest as she spotted the mushroom’s owner sitting in a chair by a fireplace. The owner mentioned was a blue creature wearing red pants and hat, his auburn hair going to his shoulders, a little beard forming it seemed. The blue creature’s lighter blue eyes were moving as he read a book…. ...Elderberry was entranced as her wings glowed pink for a split second as her sister flew over, grabbing her upper arm while Nightwillow whispered “are you nuts!?” “Look! “ the raven haired woman whispered, pointing to the creature inside “you ever seen a creature like him before?” Nightwillow looked through the window but saw no one. Wait where he go? “Excuse me?” a male voice sounded from their left, causing the twins to jump in surprise before looking and seeing the creature...who was only slightly shorter than them. Smiling, the blue male gestured to his house as he asked “like to come in than smurfing through my window?” Elderberry was quick to say giddily “Yes of course! Better than being out here.” she then flew inside, dragging Willow inside. Once inside, their host closed the door ,introducing himself as he held a hand out to the pixies “Kindness Smurf, pleasure to meet you.” “I’m Elderberry, this is my twin Nightwillow.” Elederberry said as the blue clad pixie shook the smurf’s hand “I thought smurfs were hairy with red eyes and sharp teeth.” Kindness quirked a brow at that, saying slowly and unsurely” OK?” he then went to his bed, explaining that the pixies can have his bed for the night, he’ll take the floor. It was too late for traveling.. Especially with the nocturnal predators out by now. Narrowing her green eyes, Nightwillow said bluntly “no thanks, we can camp ou-oof!” she was cut off when Berry elbowed her in the chest, hissing sternly under her breathe “Don’t be rude and keep your suspiciousness down. Not all the creatures in the world are like those damn wartmongers!” the raven haired pixie then turned to their host, saying kindly with a smile “I apologise for my sister, she has it in her mind the whole planet is like the Wartmongers that held us captive for a good amount of our lives.” “Trust me, I have a ex that was like that.” Kindness said, shivering at the memories “I know the feeling of being captive.” he then went to the fire, asking to change the subject, smiling “You pixies don’t mind smurfberries do you? All I have.” Elderberry, who had been looking at the smurf in sympathy, perked up as she walked over. She never heard of smurfberries, they sounded tasty.”Smurfberries?”. Kindness smiled at his guest as he got a bowl of smurfberry stew for her and her twin. Both Pixies stayed the night, actually the best they had in their 300 years of life. But come morning, Nightwillow wanted them to leave. Right when they were, Elderberry started to feel a sharp shooting pain in her stomach. Which made her double over in pain. Panicked, the redheaded pixie pointed accusingly at their smurf host who was in genuine worry “You did something to my sister! What was in that soup!” she demanded to know, good thing last night she dumped her bowl out. Ha! Being suspicious of others pays! “Nothing but smurfberries,apples and acorns!” Kindness said, helping Elderberry up, guiding her to his bed and helping her lay down. Once she was under the covers, the smurf rushed around to find his stethoscope that he made, then he listened to her heart… It was normal, then to her stomach.. It was gurgling like mad. Frowning, the smurf removed the blugs from his ears, asking the redhead that was standing too close for comfort “what would the wartmongers feed you?” Nightwillow frowned in confusion for a split second, answering questionly “Slime mold, only thing they had. Why?” Kindness thought it over before saying “I think I know why her stomach suddenly started hurting. Smurfberries are full of antioxidants, Acorn and Apples are full of fiber…” he chuckled sheepishly at the raised brow of confusion “Her bowls aren’t use to the amount of fiber she got..” “Whoa, whoa wait!” the red clad female made a ‘T’ motion, waving her hands abit “You mean to tell me the pain is just her-” “Yup!” the smurf said before saying “I’ll go get her some water. To much fiber but not enough water..not a good mix.” he walked off as Nightwillow sat next to her sibling, holding her hand. She may have been born three seconds after, but she seemed to be the most mature of the two. Why did Elderberry have to be so trusting? It’s just a matter of time until ‘Kindness’ -the pixie doubted that was his real name, who the hell names their kid after a emotion?- turned on them. Few minutes later, the aforementioned smurf came back with a bucket of water from the nearby river, mumbling something about needing to dig a well. Setting the bucket down, Kindness filled a cup a water up, walking over to the two pixies as Elderberry sat up with a grunt.”Thanks.” she mumbled taking the cup from him and gulping it down. God was she thirsty! And this was alot cleaner than back in the swamps. Very much so. Gulping down a second cup, the pixie asked something that was on her mind for awhile.”Kindness? Mind if I ask you’re named.. Kindness?” Surprised -yet not very much- by the question, the smurf started to explain how in the world of Smurfs. They can be named after a trait of theirs, personality or talent..Or in some cases, be given human names or just called ‘smurf’, like Kindness’ father. Who, from the looks of it, wasn’t around. Infact, seems smurfs can be either be born or delivered by a stork. Kindness, was found by his father and was raised by him until he left on some journey, then his mother vanished..at age 45!so the red clad smurf had been on his own..sort of. There was a fairy..But she was gone now. “So..you’re named after a trait or talent in your culture?” Nightwillow asked dryly, raising a brown as she added “THAT sounds stupid.” “Nightwillow! No it is not,sounds cute.” Elderberry said with a smile, she was interested in the customs of smurfs. And she liked this smurf,always felt a pull to him from her heart to him. His eyes held so much care, tenderness and, well, kindness...Yet they seemed to be aged like they seen horrors. It made her heartbreak at the thought of someone harming this sweet man. Smiling, the fair skinned pixie held his hand, saying “Your name fits, since you are so kind to me and my rude sister.” “I know a imp who is more rude than her.” The smurf said semi jokingly with a chuckle, his heart beating fast in his chest at their hands touching. Elderberry was very beautiful than any female he ever seen...Which was very limited, so yeah. But still! She was very pretty to his eyes. One could see their eyes glow pink for a split second as they looked in eachother's’ eyes, smiling at eachother. Nightwillow frowned when she noticed the looks… she didn’t like where this was going. Especially how it got more frequent over the next few days. That soon turned into weeks..Then into two months. Over that time, Elderberry and Kindness had fallen hard for one another, helping eachother -mostly the potion hobby Kindness has-and would go on walks, gathering berries and acorns. All the while, Nightwillow felt like she was losing her sister, the pixie didn’t trust the smurf. Fact; she thought her sister could ,and would, do better with another pixie that had the same lifespan as theirs. That way ,Elderberry won’t die alone….. The redhead had to break them up.. For her sister’s sake. This was just a phase and she’ll be over it in time. Thinking hard, Nightwillow headed to the house to see if there was anything in those spell books that was useful. Few hours later, everyone was having dinner. Courtesy of Willow..which was surprising, for she never cooks dinner. Elderberry took a sip of her soup, saying in delight “Mmm! This is good sis, what’s in here?” she continued to eat as her fellow pixie swallowed her bowl, noticing in the corner of her vision of Kindness putting a hand to his chest in discomfort “Oh, ya know. Acorns, Apples, Carrots and a pink root I found some miles out.” The smurf with them then fell out of his chair, coughing up some foam as Elderberry rushed to her lover’s side shouting his name in a panic. Holding her hand, he rasped out “S-Smurf root O-Outside, ground it into paste and mix with water, h-hurry.” “Nightwillow what. Did. you. DO!?” Elderberry asked her sister in a demanding tone as she rushed to the door, the red headed pixie following her and flown infront of the older twin, causing the blue pixie to stop in flight “Doing you a favor! He’s no good for you! He’ll outlive you!” the slightly older female looked in horror before snarling with a sneer “THAT was not your call! So what if Smurfs live longer than pixies! I love him! I will not let you take him from me!” she flown past her supposed siling, rushing to the smurf-root, hoping against hope that her lover held on. Before she could head back, a force tackled her to the ground. Nightwillow pinning the raven haired girl down as her hands glowed “You’ll thank me later.” she went to touch her forehead. POW! She was knocked off. A knee having connected to her gut before a purple blur flown back to Kindness’ house. Once inside, Elderberry was quick to grind the root down into a paste, mixing it with water and helping the poisoned smurf drink it. “Easy Kindness, easy you’ll be ok my love.” she gently whispered, helping the coughing smurf sit up. As they got to their feet, both Pixie and smurf looked out the door as they heard the flutter of wings. Nightwillow charging..with a knife. Kindness sluggishly held out his palms, saying quietly “Protecto.” a blue shield stopping the knife when Nightwillow swung it at him. “Why do you not die!?” she snarled. “Begone.” Was all the smurf grunted, his eyes glowing blue and swinging his left arm, making the pixie vanish….Where she was teleported to they had no idea. Aslong as Nightwillow was gone and they were safe. Both lovers stood in silence as the shield vanished, Elderberry holding the smurf while tears fell, her smurffriend hugging back comfortly in regret. His eyes closed as both lovers fell to their knees, holding onto eachother as berry cried in the loss of her sister...who she thought would always be there for her, accept her choices..accepted her nature. But, that doesn’t seem to be the case at all, or ever. “I am sorry, Elderberry. I really am.” Kindness said holding the taller magic being closer, the female pixie sniffling in reply. She then pulled back, asking brokenly “what happens now? I am so sorry.” “It was not your doing, don’t you dare blame yourself for your sister’s actions.” The smurf holding her sade as they joined foreheads, amethyst meeting blue, the blue male adding honestly “I love you and I can never hate you for events beyond control.” Berry sniffled as she nodded in reply, hugging Kindness as if he’d disappear too. Meanwhile.. Somewhere else in the world. Nightwillow yelped in surprise as she suddenly appeared in the air and tumbling on some grass. Getting up with a groan, the pixie looked at where she landed..It was some empty field, tall grass as far as the eye could see. So, Kindness banished her to who knows where in the world..Far from her sister..all to himself. ”Well…”she grunted getting to her feet “This was his plan to get rid of me the whole time.” she glared at the starless moonlit sky “Two can play at that game. Mark my words; I will find them again, and I will have my revenge on that smurf for turning my sister against me….” With that vow in the air, the green eyed pixie started walking since her wings were injured at the moment. Oh yeah,she will have her revenge. It will just take some planning.

#Brainy Smurf #smurfs #papa smurf

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