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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

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Beach Day

Hey Besties <3, I plan on getting 3 more posts like this out today as I know I haven't been the most active this week, then tomorrow there will be 2 more out so it means I have posted 7 written works this week. So keep your onions peeled. (the amazing writer @sapphireplums gave me so much inspiration to write with their kind words so you should give her a follow).

Summary: The avengers get their toes in the sand and their swimsuits on.

You had all been working for what felt like 200 years

With missions and paperwork none of you had seen each other properly

So an hour of brainstorming you came up with the genius idea of a beach day

You decided to put the idea to Fury so he could clear everyone's schedule

However it took a lot more convincing than you had expected

You shivered under the mans watchful gaze, you never really understood documentary presenters when they talked about the look of fear in some poor mouse's eyes as it was scooped up into the talons of some large bird, that was until you met Fury, you were sure you had the same look in your eyes right now. You shifted in your seat as he began to talk again, “So you want me to let the world's protectors go off duty for a whole day just so you can go running across some sand and take a swim in salty water? Even though if you wanted to get sand in your hair I would happily get you a bag of it?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice, pausing his pacing to quirk his eyebrow at you. When he worded it like that it sounded stupid but you knew you all needed a break and you weren’t about to give up “I wouldn’t phrase it like that but yes sir that is in a way what I am asking, look we haven’t been together as a group since the last big team mission a month ago and I can’t remember the last time we spent a day together. Please?” If you can’t get someone to agree by simply asking them then tug at their heartstrings and beg. Those had been the wise words of your grandma Jo and it seems that they had been true “Fine you get 1 day then it’s all back to normal”

After convincing the terrifying director you had taken the idea to Tony as he was going to be the one paying for it

It’s not like he doesn’t have enough money to give some to his friends (and even more to charity but that was an idea for another day)

Of course the man more than happy to splash some cash to see everyone have fun together (and in a swimsuit)

The morning of the trip had been stressful and chaotic to say the least

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE SUN CREAM?” the captain's voice boomed over the noise of zippers shutting, the music from the beach day playlist Tony had made and the excited chattering of the team. “Yes Captain safety first I have enough bottles in the car to last at least 20 years because unlike Y/n I actually know how to take care of myself” the genius quipped laughing at the offended noise that fell from your mouth, “at least I’m not going grey old man” you muttered wandering around trying to find the bucket and spade you had brought down stairs. “Hey as anyone who has seen my Bucket and Spade I can’t seem to find it” you called out rummaging through the colossal pile of bags “No, are you sure you brought it down doll?” Bucky spoke, looking round in confusion not remembering seeing you bring it down. If you weren’t so caught up in looking for your sandcastle building tools you would have laughed at the ‘lost tourist’ look on his face. “Yes I’m sure,” shoving bags with more aggression eager to find it “is everyone sure they haven’t taken it” you stopped to look at the group, cheeks tinted pink from the force at which you were moving bags. “Yes , we’re sure now get downstairs and in the car I’ll get you one when we get there” rushed Natasha, her red hair a nice contrast to the dark denim shorts she had on, “if we get there” whispered Sam making Thor laugh as he attempted to pick up 3 bags at once.

Anyone would have thought you were going on a 5 day holiday with the amount you had all tried to shove in the back of the mini-van you all chipped in for one year at Christmas for this exact reason

The seniors of the group ( Iced Americano and The metal armed man with no plan) were confused on why you needed to take this much but you and Wanda were insistent that you had packed the essentials

(Okay maybe the hats, 5 bottles of sun cream and armbands and floats for the poor swimmers of the pack had been slightly unconventional for a day at the beach but it’s better safe than sorry right?)

The drive was also very chaotic

You hadn’t realised how uncomfortable the seats had been until you were forced to spend 2 hours stuck next to Loki in them. “I know this is the 10th time I have asked this but are we there yet?” the God was starting to seem more like a 5 year old than a stabbing machine and he wasn’t the only one ,“Can you please move your leg over a bit it’s on my side” Sam whined as he shoved Bucky’s shoulder “No for the last time I can’t so deal with it bird brain” the pair hadn’t stopped bickering since they stepped foot inside the vehicle. “Tony can you turn up the music and drown the noise of these kids out please” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to soothe the oncoming headache (not that making the music even louder was going to help) “I thought you’d never ask kid” he replied lunging for the twisty thing no one actually knew the name of, that turned up the music (Bruce probably knew but no one had the energy to ask).

When you got there however the 2 hour drive felt like the needed sacrifice as your toes hit the sand.

As much as you loved being able to fight alongside your family there was nothing better than watching them relax, faces slowly morphing into ones of pure bliss.

“You alright there y/n? You looked like you were away with the fairies then” Steve chuckled, unfolding the deck chair he had brought and placing it next to yours. “Yeah I’m good I was just thinking about how lucky we are to have each other” the man smiled at you as your eyes glinted in the sunshine. “LAST ONE TO THE WATER SMELLS OF FISH” Peter screamed bolting towards the water, that bastard you thought jumping up and running after him “PETER YOU DICK I’M GONNA GET YOU!!!” you laughed. Once you got in the water you squeaked at how cold it was doing the ‘ohh ohh oh sihufbbe’ noise that came with the shock of cold water spinning around to splash water in bug boys face. Oh shit. That wasn’t Peter, you had forgotten that Bruce had gotten into the water straight after Tony and had been swimming beside you. The whole group froze half expecting the man to turn green however what you were met with wasn’t a green mean smashing machine and was in fact a laughing doctor and a splash of water to the face. After that a water fight started, screams of surprise and joy a comforting change to the screams of fear you usually heard in your line of work. You snuck off back to shore and looked at your found family from the warmth of your towel realising how lucky you were to be in a place of love and support, free of judgement. Because at the end of the day yes Loki would complain about the sand in his hair, Thor would be asking for a stop at the shops to add to his Pop tart stock pile, Nat would be silently filming Sam and Bucky bicker like an old married couple, Tony would make flirty remarks to Pepper about letting him rub sun cream on her back again some time, Peter and you would be talking shit to each other as he beat you at yet another game of Mario kart as Wanda and vision made sure to make an extra bowl of whatever they had made to take Bruce who had already made his way down to the lab but you were a family and there was no place you’d rather be.

You would say this was the best idea you ever had but the video of you painting Cap’s shield bright pink would beg to differ

It was a successful trip and you would 100% be posting the picture of Bucky and Peter looking depressed at the fact their ice-creams had fallen on the floor after a light game of ‘I’m gonna push you over’

Ahhhh the bliss of a beach day with the gang

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xxnatxx · 3 years

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Chapter 3 - A Daily Thing

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TW: slight mentions of sex, cursing.

So there he was,

19, with a newborn baby boy, and no baby momma to help him raise Ren.

For 6 years Bakugou managed to somehow juggle his work life, social life, and private life with his son incredibly well. Though he obviously struggled being a single dad, he of course had his friends to help him out with Ren, as well as him parents who were more than stoked to have a grandchild who looked just like Bakugou.

And now, Bakugou is 25 and Ren is 6 years old and about to enter first grade! He hasn’t gotten his quirk yet, and though he looks just like his hot headed father, his personality is quite opposite of his. Ren was a sweet boy, who was often times shy and quite emotional, but he had his fathers big heart and perseverance. Bakugou didn’t really know how he ended up with such an angel, given that he himself had a pretty explosive personality and his birth mother, Olivia, had a pretty nasty one. But of course, he absolutely loved Ren, and would without a doubt do anything for him

He and Ren lived in a pretty modern and spacious apartment, and when Bakugou would head off to his newly opened agency, Ren would stay with his grand parents. Ren never really questioned why he didn’t have a mom like the kids in the movies and tv shows, all he knew was that Bakugou was his dad, and taht was enough to keep the little boy happy as ever. And Bakugou knew that eventually he’d have to explain to Ren the truth about why he doesn’t have a mom, wether it be in 5, 10, or 15 years, he didn’t really know what he was gonna do when the time came, but he didn’t like spending time dwelling on it, he’d rather spend his time with Ren teaching him how to be a good, humble person, because unlike Bakugou at his age, Ren is actually a pretty decent human.

7: 05 AM

Bakugou is roughly shaken awake from his dream by Ren, who’s whispering-screaming,

“Dad! Dad! It’s time for school, I have school today remember!” he excitedly says as Bakugou scoops him up and ruffles his spikey blond locks saying,

“Wow, you’re really starting 1st grade today huh buddie”

“Yup! So cmon dad lets go” he says pulling Bakugous fingers with his dainty little hands, wanting him to help him get dressed for his first day.

Bakugou would be lying if he said he didn’t wish he had a partner to help him care for Ren, because even though he didn’t like admitting it, taking care of a child is hard, especially on your own. Maybe if he has someone, they could help out with Ren when Bakugou couldn’t, help guide Ren, and also, give Bakugou some comfort as well. Since Ren was born, Bakugou hasn’t been with anyone, no dates, no one night stands, nothing. And he honestly did think about finding soemone one day, but it just really wasn’t something to get his hopes up for. Ren was all he needed.

8:15 AM,

It’s now almost time for the children and their parents to start tricking into the classroom to officially start the first day of Kindergarten. And you were beyond nervous. First job since graduating college, and after earning two degrees, it was finally time to start your dream job as a children’s science teacher.

You’d always been pretty good with kids, and given that you had an ocean quirk, a science teacher was just something that came with lots of interest to you. Of course, you were also beyond excited to meet your kids, but one thing you had forgotten about was meeting the kids parents as well. Kids at this age are usually pretty sweet and innocent, (though some are a little tricky to work it) but parents, were often times judgemental of their kids teachers, which is understandable, but it still made you nearly shit your pants to think about.

15 minutes later, a few kids and parents start to trickle in to your ocean themed classroom, and so far, things were going pretty well. You were introducing yourself to both the parents and kids, guiding them to their assigned seats, trying to make everyone feel as comfortable as possible. Most kids are being quite energetic towards you, one even running up to you and hugging your legs, telling you how excited he was to start school. Another kid complimenting the light blue dress you were wearing, which somewhat color coordinated with your classroom decor. You were so flattered to see that your new students were fond of you and more outgoing than you thought they’d be. Well, all except for one certain blond 6 year old.

After a majority of the kids and parents had come in and began filling the room with chatter, you were still waiting outside the door for one more student by the name of Ren, to begin class. While you’re talking to another teacher that had approached you previously, you hear slightly heavy foot steps coming up behind you. As you wave goodbye to the teacher you were conversing with, you swiftly turn around, catching the piercing red eyes of a somewhat tall man. His natural attractiveness caught you by suprise, and you let out a gasp that only you could hear as you observe his chiseled features. He looked as if he was constantly on edge, yet he still had this dewy radiant skin and beautiful blond hair tied that was tied in a half up-half down messy bun. He seemed to be around the same age as you, but could honestly still pass as a teenager if he wasn’t so buff and built. You quickly notice that he’s wearing a hero costume, it hadn’t registered in your brain that the man standing a few feet in front of you was actually Dynamight, the #5 Pro-Hero, until you look down scanning his costume. That’s when you notice the little boy with the same blonde hair and ruby eyes that was securely holding onto his leg with both arms, peeking over at you.

“Oh, hello there, I”m Mrs. L/N, are you Ren by any chance? I’ve been waiting for you to get here” you say gently putting your hands on your knees to peek down at the boy who seemed to be quite nervous.

Looking back up at the stunning pro hero you say,

“So then that must make you his dad, right? It’s nice to meet you guys” with a kind and gentle smile, speaking in the most genuine voice you can, to hopefully put the small boy at ease.

Instead of responding, he simply stares back at you, completely still and completely quiet.

Bakugou has never really found anyone he’s met attractive to the point of having a crush on them. Nor did he want to, since he told himself he’d be forever alone until he had Ren, he just never really cared for crushes, feelings, or relationships. But now, he’s starting at your bright E/C eyes, noticing how the warm smile on your face has yet to fade, and how the genuine kind energy you radiate is enough to put even his incredibly reserved son at ease. As he begins to subtly observe your delicate features, he feels the depths of his stomach begin to flutter. But why? Why is it that all of a sudden, he’s feeling something he’s never felt before?

After a few silent seconds, Bakugou notices his son begin to step slightly in front of him, and pulling on his pant leg as if urging him to respond to your question. As he meets your eyes again, he sees you patiently waiting for a response,

“Yes, sorry, i’m Ren’s father, nice to meet you” he says as firmly as he can, hopefully to regain some of the confidence he lost when you first spoke to him.

“Thank you,

So it seems you guys are the last ones to get here so let’s head inside and i’ll lead you to your seat, Ren” you respond looking down at the small boy who now seems to be a little less visibly anxious. They both follow you into the classroom, where Bakugou and Ren immediately notice the interesting room decor you have scattered across your room. There’s green bean bags and blue stools in one corner of the room, right next to a bigger-than-average fish tank that’s filled with odd colored fish, both big and small. Along with seaweed, bubbles, sand, and various ocean animals that have been painted on the walls to make it look like the underwater ocean.

You lead them to Ren’s seat and walk up to the front of the class to begin your introduction to the class as a whole. Everyone who isn’t already looking at you, turns your way as you begin to say,

“Okay, so it seems like everyone’s here’s now which means it’s time for me to officially introduce myself to everyone. But first I’d like to give a big welcome to everyone, I’m so glad I can be your teacher this year and hopefully, you guys can have fun learning about science since I know it can be a little hard to grasp sometimes,

Bakugou can’t help but be mesmerized by you as you speak, he’s never come across someone who’s been this kind that hasn’t completely irritated him. And Ren seems to like you as well, his previous teachers were both quite loud and obnoxious, which resulted in Ren not being able to be very comfortable around them. But seeing how Ren’s already sitting at the edge of his seat, eager to hear you talk more about yourself, he thinks it’s gonna be a pretty good year for Ren in school.

You continue speaking, now beginning to talk about your personal self,

So, my name is Y/N L/N, you guys can call me Miss. L/N, Miss.{First letter of L/N}, or Miss, really just whatever you feel most comfortable with. I graduated from XXX College last year with a degree in Children’s education and another degree in Marine Biology, I have a dog named Bubbles, my favorite color is F/C, I’m 25 years old and I love to cook” you say to the class, still having the same smile and glimmer in your eyes as before.

“So if you guys want to ask me any questions about myself to get to know me a little better, you can raise your hand and I’ll answer” as soon as you finish speaking, you see a bunch of tiny little hands eagerly wave in the air,

“Me me me! I have a question!” one little girl in a high pitched voice says.

You lightly giggle at everyone’s response, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou. And For a split second, your eyes meet as you scan the room for the little girl who’s lost in a sea of hands, and the feeling of rumbling in his stomach returns, at this point, he has to admit, you’re absolutely beautiful. And you’re smart, enjoys cooking like him, and are the same age as he is. These things only make the feeling in his stomach grow bigger.

“Yes, what’s your question honey” you say when you finally spot the little girl in the back of the class.

“So what’s your quirk, do you have one?Because I do! ” she excitedly asks.

The class awaits your response as they redirect their vision from the girl to you, and you say

“I do have a quirk actually, it’s called Ocean, I can basically manipulate water, communicate with, control and summon ocean animals, breathe underwater, and so on, and it’s actually why my room is decorated the way it is and the reason I have a degree in Marine Biology!” you respond, and your response earns you a series of responses from the kids such as,

“Woooaaahhh”

“That’s such a cool quirk! No fair!”

“Why aren’t you a hero then Miss. L/N?” one student asks, which leads Bakugou to then wonder,

Yeah, why isn’t she a hero? With a quirk like that she could end up being a pretty high ranked hero, so why an elementary school teacher instead?

You respond by saying,

“Well, I actually was gonna be a hero at some point, i even have my hero license and went to a hero school, but I realized before I graduated high school that I actually wasn’t very passionate about being a hero, but I realized I much rather enjoyed science and working with kids. So, I decided to study in college instead. And now i’m here.” finishing yourself off with a smile.

“But now, we’re gonna play some games to hopefully get to know each other a little better....” you continue speaking, explaining different games and such, but Bakugou isn’t even listening. It’s official , you’ve intrigued him. He can’t help but want to speak to you again even if it’s just about Ren and school, but when he begins to feel this way, he quickly shuts the thoughts that overtake his brain down. You’re Ren’s teacher first of all, and though it wouldn’t be illegal to date you, it’s still a little weird. He’s also not looking for a relationship, not now and not ever. So before he can let whatever he’s feeling develop, he tells himself to not take interest in you. If he’s never taken interest in anyone before, why should he start now?

Parents have to either drop off their kids at the front of the school, or walk with them to their classroom at the elementary school. Usually, Bakugou would’ve just dropped Ren off at the front and driven off to work, but now, he might just have to start walking him to class. He had already declared to himself that he wouldn’t take interest in you, and simply push his atraction to you away until he no longer got knots in his stomach with every glance you gave him, every conversation you guys had, just any interaction really.

So every day, he’ll go in to school walking Ren to class, and causally bring up some sort of school related thing to you as Ren waltzed into class, which would eventually lead to a few minutes of casual conversation. This was as far as Bakugou would let himself go though, it was just a simple little thing that would fill him with enough satisfaction to last for the rest of his lonely life.

It was just,

a daily thing.

taglist:

@unicornlover25, @sam-i-am-1025, @nightlygiggless, @aphelionsyzygy, @bigdaddyriotsbitch

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou fanfiction #mha #bakugou katsuki #dad bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader

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amandaoftherosemire · 3 years

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And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part One

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, OMC Joseph

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,121

Format: Short Series (Complete)

Warnings: Language, violence, references to captivity, implied abuse, angst.

Summary: You meet Bucky Barnes upon your mysterious and deadly escape from a power obsessed cult leader and his followers. Though you carry a secret in addition to the wariness of trauma, you can’t help your attraction to Bucky and his irascible demeanor. As for Bucky, he is drawn to the light he sees in you while he fears the things you’re hiding. Can you trust him with your secrets, and your life? Will you have a choice?

A/N: I haven’t posted anything in five months, so this may be a little on the odd side. I guess I’m working through some stuff?

This takes place in between Black Panther and Infinity War but is not consistent with MCU canon because I do what I want.

I used my old taglist, but only as a way to let y’all know I’m posting again. As always, feel free to ignore me. 😊 Heads up, future parts will get smutty.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part One

The first time Bucky saw you, you were literally on fire. Not just a little flame, either, but a full-on conflagration engulfing your entire body and crackling with cheerful menace. You’d turned to him, your eyes blazing white in a face painted in flame, and intoned with a voice that both popped and roared.

“Are you a god?”

Bucky’s eyes widened over the barrel of the gun he continued to keep trained on you despite his uncertainty that it could do any good should you decide to attack. Unsure how to prevent that decision, but wanting to try, he responded slowly. “I have no idea how to answer that.”

From the woods around him, Bucky heard a shout. He stood at the edge of a clearing in which you stood at the center, a scatter of charred bodies surrounding you. He went no closer, not willing to discover the hard way what your range was.

Sam was yelling as he walked closer, “Ray, when someone asks you if you’re a god, you say, ‘Yes!’”

Bucky was fascinated to see blue flames dance along your teeth as you smiled. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the way the flames whipped and whirled around you was unbelievably beautiful. It was also incredibly terrifying, but Bucky had needed to survive horrors best left undefined, so had long since learned to find the beauty in terror. In the next moment, Sam was stepping into view on the other side of the clearing, his own gun out and ready.

You turned, and with a happy, surprised sob, cried, “Sam!?” The next moment, the fire was flickering into nothing and you were just a lovely woman wearing nothing more than the ash from what had once been a long white dress.

Sam immediately holstered his gun and ran forward. “Y/N? We knew there were prisoners but--"

"Sam," you whispered brokenly as you stumbled on knees turned to jelly toward the concerned face of your friend and former colleague. You hadn't seen him since before your abduction, not long after that last doomed mission in Lagos. When he'd gone on the run with Captain America after the fallout over the Accords, you'd been nothing but happy to hear that he was alive and free. His face was one of the last you’d expected to see upon your escape, but the sight of Sam was a joyous relief.

"What are you doing here?" Your teeth chattered on the question, reaction and your own nakedness leaving you freezing and shaking. You didn't see where the silver emergency blanket came from, but Sam was nevertheless wrapping you in it and then in his own arms, to your everlasting gratitude. You'd never been anything more than friends, but he'd always been a true and loyal one, with a giving heart and wicked sense of humor.

You let him comfort you, the bone-shattering terror of your ordeal hitting you now that it was over. Now that someone you knew and trusted held you, the sick horror of what you'd endured sent tears flooding into your throat. The exhaustion of everything you'd done that day turned your muscles to water and so you didn't resist when Sam bent and slid his arm behind your knees to lift and carry you out of the clearing where you'd hurt so many. Instead, you buried your face in the crook where his neck met his shoulder and let the tears fall.

"Do me a favor and tell the others I've found Y/N Y/L/N and that I'm taking her back to the jet."

Bucky had lowered his weapon when the fire had flickered out with your recognition of Sam, but his eyes were still narrowed with a hint of suspicion. He was pretty sure you weren't a danger to Sam, at least, but that didn't mean he thought you harmless. He nodded slowly and lifted his microphone to his lips to report in even as he fell into step behind Sam as he headed back the way they'd came.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Sam said gently as he walked briskly back to the jet, "but do you know who is in charge of all of this?"

"Joseph." Your voice was a rasp with the tears that still shivered out of you, but all of the emotion had left your tone. "I don't think he survived."

Bucky glanced back at the clearing where they'd left a half dozen charred bodies and figured he knew how Joseph had met his end. When he turned back, you were peeking over Sam's shoulder at him, to his admitted consternation.

"I'm sorry about the dumb joke." The emotion was back, remorse in your eyes and tone as you looked at him. "I wanted to either make you laugh or scare you. I just didn't want to hurt anyone else." With that, you buried your face back in Sam's throat and started crying again.

Bucky tried to resist but his heart throbbed in sympathy, with understanding. He knew all about being forced to do things he didn't want to, both by cruelty and circumstance. He'd be the last to blame another for what they'd done to escape. He was concerned about your apparent propensity for bursting into flame, but he understood why you'd done so, since you could.

"He probably hasn't seen Ghostbusters, sweetheart." You lifted your head, a frown on your tear-streaked face to glare with narrow-eyed suspicion at Bucky, who was at a complete loss as to what the two of you were even talking about. Sam laughed when he saw your face and went on. "This is Bucky Barnes."

Your face cleared in understanding and Bucky wondered who you were that you recognized his name so quickly. "Welcome back, Sergeant," you said softly, with a shy smile that Bucky couldn't help but find charming even as he wondered who you were and how you seemed to know so much about him when he'd never heard your name before.

"At least now I know why we're here," Sam called back to Bucky, his voice cheerful as he tramped back towards the jet. "Nat's got a soft spot for this one; I'm willing to bet she had an idea we'd find Y/N."

Bucky murmured as he kept his eyes on yours from where they peeked over Sam's shoulder at him. "I didn't know we were looking for Y/N."

"I was part of the supply chain." You didn't like the wariness with which this man watched you, but you could hardly blame him, considering your introduction. You weren't normally so dramatic, but he couldn't know that. "Natasha would have noticed when I disappeared."

Sam shook his head with a smile and moved toward the edge of the forest, now in sight. "Why am I not surprised? Were you Nat's secret source?"

"Of course." You couldn't seem to stop looking at the man following you and Sam with such deadly grace and aloof readiness. You'd never seen anyone look so dangerously bored. You were damned if you didn't find it sexy as hell. "She asked me if I wanted to help and I said yes. The Accords are a human rights violation."

Bucky's eyes flicked to yours and warmed as the corner of his mouth lifted just a little. Your heart skipped in the first beat of attraction as Sam laughed out loud. The sound had you smiling even as he replied, "Like I said, not surprised." He turned his head to call over his shoulder, "Bucky, this is Y/N. She used to be support staff for the Avengers, was one of the researchers there. She helped me when Steve and I were looking for you."

Bucky bent his head in acknowledgement and smiled fully for the first time. Now that he had more of a handle on things, he could roll with them. And he'd ever been the sort willing to go the extra mile for a pretty woman. "Pleasure to meet you," he rumbled, and sounded like he meant it.

You thought about the sacrificial dress you'd been wearing when the fire had blown through and carried you out of the building, remembered the fear in the eyes of the henchmen sent to recapture you as they'd circled you like a pack of wild dogs. "Believe me. The pleasure's mine."

As Sam broke through the tree line where the quinjet that had brought them sat, the little bottle blonde assassin behind the controls, he turned to catch your eye. "So, Y/N, are you gonna tell me how you're a firestarter now?"

Natasha turned in her chair at the sound of his voice as they mounted the ramp into the jet. "Good, you found her," she said briskly with a gentle smile for you. You smiled weakly back as Sam set you down in one of the chairs. Natasha turned back around and continued, "Strap in. Steve and Wanda are almost back and I want to be in the air five seconds after that."

Bucky's eyes flicked to you in puzzlement at the sound of a soft hiss, like that of a snake, followed by a crackle or a popping noise. He may have looked elsewhere, but you'd made a soft shushing noise that drew his eye.

That shushing sound was followed by a tired sigh when Sam lifted a brow at you as he went about helping you rearrange the blanket so you could strap in but remain covered. "I wish I knew, Sam," you replied to that lifted brow and Bucky wished he knew why he didn't believe you.

You sat in the sand and watched the ocean crash against the shore, letting the sound soothe you. Feeling hot and itchy most days, thanks to your experience at the hands of the weird cult that had abducted you, this was often the only peace you could find. Most days saw you driving down from the house in the mountains to sit here and let the wind and the waves ease your mind and soothe the soul.

Today, however, you couldn’t seem to settle, upset by the conversation you’d had with Steve that morning. He’d wanted to apologize for overstaying their welcome, and assure you they’d be moving on soon.

After your rescue, they had come to stay with you in the house you’d inherited from your uncle. Tucked away in the heavily forested mountains of Oregon’s Coastal Range, it was big, secluded, and ideal for hiding five fugitives. You’d simply been happy to help, to give them a safe place to rest.

Now you were dealing with the fact that you didn’t want them to leave. You were chilled, sick at the thought of rattling around in the big house with nothing for company but your thoughts and the memory of what had happened in a house in upstate New York. You may have traveled three thousand miles to escape what had happened that night, but you couldn't escape what was now yours, whether you'd wanted it or not.

The soft hiss in your ear warned you that someone was approaching, but you were surprised when that someone flopped onto the cool sand next to you with a huff of irritation. "Huh. What a shitty day at the beach."

Damned if you knew why the surly bitch did it for you, but Bucky Barnes had charmed the fuck out of you by not being the least bit charming.

He wasn't mean, or rude, not by a long shot. He was unfailingly kind and polite and genuinely grateful for the shelter. You could see the good man underneath the pissiness, but Bucky was perpetually baffled and annoyed by most of the world around him. He never complained, really, but he regarded everything with a vaguely hostile skepticism. You could not understand why you thought him adorably sexy, the big, grumbly bastard.

"Good thing we’re not at the beach," you replied with a laughing sneer, your habitual attitude towards him as it prompted that ridiculous half-smile. You fucking adored that sly smirk. "We’re on a beach. We’re at the coast."

Bucky gave you his amused disgust face and made you melt. He picked up a handful of sand and held it up to let it run through his fingers in a rather accusatory fashion. You waved him away. "I would think a Broody McBrooderface like yourself would immediately get this."

You gestured at your surroundings, a lonely beach on a winter day in the Pacific Northwest. Clouds covered the sky and boiled over the sea, turning the waves into a stormy bluish gray that reflected in the eyes of the man that watched you with a reluctant fascination. The wind whipped around you both, tumbling his hair around his sculpted face and making you think of the covers of trashy romance novels from an earlier era. Moody and bleak, a cold winter day at the coast was made for Bucky Barnes.

A long, charged pause as he stared at your profile in disgusted astonishment.

"What?"

You couldn't stop the snort at the sound of pure stupified horror in his voice. You didn't know which part of what you said he found objectionable, but the insult of something clearly offended him. You didn't usually get this much reaction out of him, so you had to assume it was the new nickname.

"The beach," you replied snottily, "is where you go to relax in the sun or swim in the ocean." You tilted your head to fix him with an intense stare. "But we’re in the ring of fire, Bucky, and the ocean doesn’t play with the shore here. We’re at the coast, where the sea meets the land with force." You gestured out at the dark waves as they continued to crash and pound on the sand, curls of violent energy breaking upon the shore. "The beach is for fun; the coast is where you go to brood."

With that, you uncrossed your arms and placed your hands at your sides on the cold, dry sand behind you, bracing yourself as you leaned back, a smirk on your lips. You loved informing him of opinions as though you had just bested him with facts. The way his lips tightened when he was holding back laughter made your heart gallop.

Your breathing joined your heart in its race and sped as well when Bucky's eyebrow quirked in addition to the happiness that gathered in the corners of his lips. "Broody McBrooderface?" he asked, doubt collecting in his eyes and his furrowed brow. His voice was still rich with the disgust that had characterized his earlier question. The combination made you sputter with mirth before giving up and dissolving into a fit of laughter. You fell back onto the sand to wrap your hands around your middle and hold on as you cackled and snickered.

When you calmed enough to look at Bucky, he'd shifted so that he was leaning on one arm, turned towards you to grin delighted at your laughter. He was so pretty, white teeth against the dark brown of his beard, thick hair tumbled in the wind around him. You hoped you didn't look as starry eyed as you felt. Some days it was harder than others to not bodily tackle the man, but it seemed tacky, not to mention gross, to accost a houseguest.

His satisfied smirk turned into a look so hot with promise you could feel it in your toes. "So you don't wanna go skinny dipping?"

You laughed even as you cringed, your body tightening at the memory of underestimating the Pacific Ocean's wilder moods on visits to your uncle during your childhood. You shook your head as a chill at the thought ran down your spine. "I double-dog dare you to jump in that water." Bucky crooked another brow and then surprised you by leaping to his feet in a move shockingly graceful in its deadly arc. He was off in a run in the very next second towards the waves. You sat up to shout after him but he was faster than you'd thought possible. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you about the FROSTBITE!"

If he hesitated for a second, you didn't see it. Fully clothed in the athletic wear he’d donned to run down to the beach, he leapt over a terrifying curving beast of a wave into the now dark gray and, you expected, freezing cold water. You got to your feet to follow him to the edge where the sea lapped at the shore, a little wary to find out how the grumpy super-soldier would react to the Pacific's bite.

The two of you argued all the way back to your car.

"The least you could do is give me a ride back to the house." Bucky didn't seem like the water had really fazed him beyond pissing him off. He wasn't shivering, his teeth weren't chattering, but his jaw was set in severe irritation and his eyes blazed with banked anger. He was so fucking hot it made you crazy.

"My seats will get soaked." You couldn't help it; he was so sexy when he looked like he wanted to murder the world. You didn't know what was wrong with you, but the way he was striding up the beach toward the parking lot where you'd left your car made you shudder with lust. You had to fuck with him a little more, irritate him just that little bit extra. Maybe it was because of what had happened to you, but you needed to toss a little more gasoline on the fire. "I only brought a towel for sand, not for swimming. Besides, I told you it was cold as fuck; you jumped in anyway."

"I can't run home like this, I'm fucking freezing." The look Bucky shot you was so vicious, your heart kicked in response, but in desire rather than fear. He was perfectly bristly and annoyed now, his bright blue eyes blazing and his sculpted cheeks flushed with temper. You could eat him alive.

"You should have thought of that before you jumped in an ocean that is obviously not into your shit right now.” You deliberately kept your tone and demeanor casual as you stopped at the water fountain at the top of the beach to rinse the sand off your feet. “It's not like I would have thought less of you if you'd stopped when I warned you about how cold it was."

Mostly clean and aware based on experience that mostly clean was the best you were going to do, you dropped the rubber flip-flops in your hand and slipped your wet feet into them as Bucky glared at you.

“I would have thought less of me,” he replied with a sneer that made you want to lean in and bite his plump lower lip. “I took a dare. I'll finish a dare.”

Unable to help yourself, you burst into delighted laughter, throwing your head back in the pure enjoyment of him as you nearly stumbled down the sidewalk toward your car. Bubbling and cheerful, the warm chuckles poured out of you until Bucky was grinning at you, albeit reluctantly.

You were somewhat calm by the time you got to your car. You turned to Bucky with a sparkling smile, the laughter still trembling on your lips and Bucky’s heart kicked in response this time.

“You’re fun, Bucky.” You leaned against the driver’s side door and grinned at him over the roof of the car. “A little bonkers, but fun.” Shooting him a sassy wink, you opened the door and slid in. “Fine, get in the car."

“I know this is a big ask.”

Bucky was sweating, but he was determined not to let you see that. He was asking a lot of you and he knew it. If he didn’t believe it was important, for you as well as himself, he’d never have had the courage.

“I’m really more confused.” Bucky made himself stop watching the way your lips shaped the words when you spoke, your eyes wary and your brow furrowed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you want to go with them?”

He didn’t think you’d noticed how he watched you, fascinated by the curving whip of your movements, like flame had become part of you. He couldn’t help but focus on you, obsessed with both the magic and mystery of you. How could he stop himself when he could also hear your mutters under your breath? He was concerned yet intrigued by the admonishments to behave yourself.

He’d had numerous fantasies about misbehaving with you.

Bucky’s attention moved to the way your fingers fidgeted with the book in your lap. He couldn’t explain why, but he loved to watch you move. There was a grace and beauty there that he’d rarely seen and always treasured. He’d seen too much ugly and cruel to take anything as pretty or as kind as you were for granted. He'd made a study of you because it soothed him somehow to do so.

Your hands weren't fidgeting in agitation, concern, or fear; all of which he'd seen and memorized. Through trial and error he'd learned how to distract you from whatever had you picking at your cuticles in anxiety and, sometimes, something that looked perilously close to panic, but he could see that wasn't necessary now. You were fidgeting absently, the same way you had been for the entire conversation, not in response to his request.

Bucky was still a little struck by his daring in asking if he could stay when the others moved on. He hadn't known if he'd have the nerve when he walked to the little library where you often sat in the window seat so you could read with your face to the mountain air coming through the open window. But when you'd looked up with a smile when he'd poked his head in and asked for a minute, he'd known even if you said no, he could trust you to be gentle.

"I don’t want to fight anymore."

By the way your eyebrows flew up and your lips parted before you paused, Bucky could see that you were as surprised by the blunt honesty of his answer as he was. But he was asking a lot of you and he knew it. Harboring an international fugitive was only the least of it. You knew his reputation, and that it was based on fact, yet you'd welcomed him into your home. He had to be honest with you if he was going to ask anything more than that already unimaginable kindness.

He smiled at you, but he couldn't stop the sadness, the exhaustion of a century's worth of years from quivering around his mouth. Your eyes, scanning his face under those expressive eyebrows, softened and your lips twisted with wry sympathy. "Of course you don't. Why would you?"

Bucky relaxed back into the plush little sofa where he'd taken the seat you'd offered when he started this conversation. He now knew it was going to be reasonably painless. Something about you almost always put him at ease within only a few minutes in your company. Maybe it was the way you listened to him, both the things he said, and the things he could only speak around.

Somehow he always ended up saying more than he'd intended.

"I didn’t volunteer, you know." You tilted your head in question, so he continued, not sure where the words were coming from. "Not like Steve, who wanted in so bad he kept trying to get past the physical. I was drafted." Bucky laughed a little and lifted his hands to rub them over his face, dragging them through his hair before threading his fingers together behind his head. "I just wanted to settle down to a normal life and try to keep my best friend from dying from one of the thousand things trying to kill him. Instead…" As he trailed off he shrugged and noticed your eyes drop to his chest in what he would swear was appreciation.

The corner of Bucky's mouth was lifting in a crooked half-smile when your eyes flicked to his. Bright and intense, he felt pinned by your gaze as the still forming grin fell from his face. "Instead you got to be a prisoner of war for sixty-odd years," you said, your voice full of the wry sympathy that still lived in the slight curve to your lips, "only to discover that things are still trying to kill your best friend?" In the next instant, that searing stare was gentle with understanding, your eyes warm with concern. "You're a little fucking tired?"

Bucky huffed out another of those little laughs, the only kind he really had these days. A little fucking tired was an understatement if he'd ever heard one, but the fact that you saw that so easily explained why he was even asking this of you. "You get it," he said, that half-smile coming back in a sweeter form. "That's why I'd like to stay here, actually." Your lips had started to curve in response to the little half-laugh, even that much heard only occasionally, when the warmth in his face sparked an answer in yours, charming you with the little glimpse of sweetness under all the salt.

Bucky's breath caught a little at the look on your face, the way the movement of your hands had smoothed as you absently toyed with the hardback still in your lap. He could see you relax by degree in his presence and wondered if you were as soothed by his company as he was by yours. "I don't want you to think you have to say yes," he heard coming out of his mouth, more honesty he couldn't help, but he didn't want you to feel pressured. "I'd rather stay here in the States, but I'm not homeless if it doesn't work for you. If it's a no, I promise, no hard feelings. I have another option lined up. I understand if you don't want to stay alone with a man you barely know."

He was starting to worry based on the soft, gentle look that remained on your face. You normally smirked and teased him, poking at his gruff exterior with a playfulness that had charmed him completely. You may not have known it, but you had him firmly wrapped around your fingers. This tenderness made him afraid you were about to let him down easy. He braced himself for rejection.

"Alright," you murmured thoughtfully, your eyes kind if shrewd as they rested on his face. He wondered what you saw when you looked at him, how much you saw beneath the surface. "If you wanna stay, we'll have to have a few ground rules, a couple of understandings."

Bucky's face lit up in surprised delight as his heart began to pound. He hadn't really expected you to say yes, and so hadn't prepared for the rush of excitement and satisfaction that ran through him at the prospect of getting to know you without feeling like he was being watched by his friends. His heart speeding a little, a hot shudder of anticipation working through him at the prospect, he shot you a bright and reckless grin. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."

Something dark and hungry moved in a flash over your face. Bucky's heart raced in answer despite his uncertainty that he'd even seen the lightning fast emotion. He wanted to be your friend first, but he couldn't deny he'd found inside himself a well of desire for you so deep he'd yet to find the bottom. He could only hope you felt some fraction of that for him.

"First and most important understanding," as you spoke your eyes flattened and your mouth tightened, your gaze on his face reminding him of the first time he'd seen you, "I am not afraid of you." The words were a warning, not a threat, but the hair on the back of Bucky's neck stood up. "If you're going to live here for the foreseeable," you continued, your face softening again into something lonely and sad, "I need to be clear on this point. I have no reason, whatsoever, to be afraid for my own safety. Not anymore."

The hollow tone to your voice was a chilling counterpoint to the fingers wrapped in white-knuckled terror around your book. Bucky could see you were trying to tell him that you were still dangerous, despite how deceptively harmless you looked when not bathed in flame.

"The fire?" Bucky didn't know he still had that much tenderness inside him for anyone, but he could hear the gentle sympathy in the two words clearly. By the tentative smile teasing the corners of your mouth, you could hear it, too.

"I would tell you if I thought you weren't safe." You looked sick with worry that he'd reject you and Bucky could see that he was right; the two of you needed each other. You went on in a little rush, your eyes dipping to your hands still clutching the book in your lap. You frowned as you spoke and he watched you deliberately uncurl your fingers as though you were carefully calming yourself. "I don't believe you're in any danger here. I will absolutely tell you if that changes."

Bucky always preferred when people were matter of fact in their questions about him and his issues. He figured he should start there and see how you responded. "Can you control it?" he asked, his voice unconcerned, his posture unchanging from his easy sprawl against the corner of the couch.

Apparently, you also liked plain speaking as you smiled a little more, this time with a wry exasperation that piqued his interest. "Some. More persuade."

Bucky's heart throbbed as he asked the question he knew you'd least like to answer. He wished he didn't feel like he had to, but he needed to know how not to incite the blaze. His voice soft as a whisper, as tender as a touch, "What set it off that night?"

The look on your face sent a chill down Bucky's spine, your eyes empty and cold and nothing like the warmth he'd come to expect and adore. Your voice as hollow as he'd ever heard it, you answered with just enough information to somewhat explain. "Joseph was going to hurt me."

Upon your recovery from the forest surrounding the house in upstate New York where you'd been held against your will, it had become clear that you'd been snatched up by one of the occult offshoots that often split from HYDRA. As HYDRA was itself founded as an occult offshoot of the Nazi war machine, it wasn't really a surprise that it so often shed more of the same. The one that had taken you, however, had apparently been particularly weird and cultish, the leader, Joseph, convinced of his own superiority and seeking the power he believed to be his due. You hadn't spoken much of what had happened to you while held captive by them, by him, but Bucky could recognize pain and trauma when they were right in front of him.

"Since I won't be hurting you," he said gently, the words both reassurance and promise, "it shouldn't be a problem." When your eyes, blurred with memory, focused back in on his face, Bucky's lips curved slightly, the smile sweeter than any he'd given you yet.

Your lips curved in response as a soft sigh that didn't come from you whispered at the edge of Bucky's hearing. His ears perked even as he kept his eyes on yours, his expression betraying nothing but the warm appreciation he always had for you. The next moment, however, his attention was caught and held by the grin you flashed, sparkling and friendly. "That's what I was thinking," you chirped and looked happier than he'd ever seen you.

The sight had his body tightening in lust even as his heart squeezed. Bucky had always been a romantic with a love of making a pretty girl smile. Being able to make you smile like this made him feel like he was getting another piece of himself back. Still, he wanted you to know that you could trust him with more than just your physical safety.

"Do you wanna tell me about it?" he offered, his voice gentle again.

"Maybe," you said, and Bucky cursed himself when your smile dimmed. You shrugged and looked back down at your hands where they'd tried to tense around the book. "I might need to. You gonna tell me about you?"

"Some." He answered quickly, without hesitation, though he grinned sheepishly when your eyes lifted to his in suspicion. "Probably."

When your eyes remained narrowed on his even as the corners of your mouth twitched with suppressed humor, Bucky narrowed his eyes back at you. To his surprised delight, that sparkling smile came back. You stretched the denim clad legs you'd had curled under you out and relaxed into the pillow at your back.

"Then rule number one," you said cheerily, an interesting heat in your eyes, "is that you continue to be your usual hostile self. It revs my engine." The cheer on your face took on a darker edge, your smile more like a dare. Bucky's eyes narrowed once again, but this time his gaze glittered with desire, with the urge to take that dare.

"Does it?"

You bit your lower lip as his voice rumbled through the air and into you. Bucky could swear he saw goosebumps erupt over the skin of your arms when he spoke, the desire riding him clear in that quiet question.

You laughed, a little breathless, and grinned at him, a cheeky taunt all over you. He was dazzled by the flash of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, the whipping movements of your hands as you gestured while you spoke. "Rule number two is that you make yourself at home." You pointed a mock stern finger at him and made him smile. "Don't be a houseguest or stand on ceremony. I want you to be genuinely comfortable. If you have to stay under house arrest for now, you should be able to do so as painlessly as possible."

There you went being sweet and kind in addition to being sexy and adorable. Bucky didn't know if he could take it. He was beginning to think he was in over his head but he couldn't find a thing not to like about it.

"Steve keeps me in line." Bucky smirked as he teased. "Once he's gone I'll make you regret that."

You looked delighted with him and Bucky could have wept with gratitude. Spending time with you was helping him remember parts of himself he'd thought long dead, like the boyish flirt he'd once been, but he was equally grateful that he seemed to be good for you, too.

"Okay," you purred as you smirked back at him, "in case Steve has kept you in line in other ways, rule three is you clean up after yourself. I will be very annoyed if you start leaving dirty dishes or clothes around once he's gone." One eyebrow lifted in mock warning and Bucky could have cuddled you.

"He’s the slob, actually." Bucky huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "You're making this too easy, doll."

He couldn't be sure, but for a moment you looked shy and a little vulnerable. Bucky's heart squeezed again as he quivered with the conflicting desires to both ravage and protect. When you glanced at him from under bashful lashes, he felt torn between.

"Am I?" The murmur of your voice was rich with something dark and exciting, something that lit up his ear and made his stomach tighten.

Bucky's voice was husky on his reply as he offered both clarification and escape route. He wanted everything on the table before the negotiations came to a close. "Any other rules?" His face spread in a hot, almost feral grin, one that left no doubts as to what rules he was asking about. "Any other lines you don’t want crossed?"

The corner of your mouth lifted in a grin equally hungry, equally reckless. "Nothing comes to mind." Your eyes reminded him of sultry whispers, heated words. "I think we can play it by ear from there."

Bucky felt his heart race in exhilaration and wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He couldn't wait to find out. "I’m happy to dance to your tune."

Part Two here >>

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cherripeach · 3 years

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Chapter 6

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it.Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Prologue 11-13: we all die: you either kill yourself or get killed

Chapter Summary: You thought high schoolers in your world had a terrible IQ, but somehow these three don’t even have one.

Warning: Jokes about assault, curse words, and maybe jokes about death

Words: 2.2k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

The end of the school day came, and the only reason you could tell is by the excess of students gathered in different areas of the schools to just lounge around and do work. You only paid attention to that because you bumped into a taller male with green hair and a clove on his cheek with two others standing next to him: one was a short red head but darker than the dude you saw at the beginning of today and another was a taller male with curly orange hair whose eyes were blasted open once taking a peek at you in your amazing outfit.

You ended up finishing your work a while back and decided to look around a little since you already got lost once. You found how to get back to the well from main street and even a better way to get to your dorm, but that’s all. You also found an odd tree in the middle of the forest with green leaves and bright, shiny red apples

After you ran into that group, the two of you-you and your stupid cat- headed back to the cafeteria from the outside: so you went back to the well, went to the cafeteria windows, and jumped back in.

No one was in there at the time, so you thought that you could sit down and relax your feet for a while. Grim took to scurrying on the table to see if anyone left any food.

He soon came back with a piece of break and sat in front of you on the table, “I’m already beat from cleaning all day.. Now we have to wash a hundred windows, too…” He bit off a piece of the bread.

You could only shake your head, “You could have not fought a kid with magic, but I digress.”

He looked openly offended at your comment, but then, he looked around the room, noticing something, “That Ace guy is sure taking his sweet time. Who does he think he is, making me wait! I'm ticked off!”

“Give him a bit. The kid can’t take that long, and who knows he might be lost. He is a first year,” You were trying to give the kid the benefit of the doubt.

Grim just huffed and ripped another piece of the bread off with his mouth. It seems like today was not his day either.

Grim finished the bread and maybe five minutes had passed and the cat gained a furrowed brow and crossed arms.

Twenty minutes had passed and the cat had begun to tap his tail vigorously against the table.

About half an hour had passed by the time Grim jumped up and began to stomp on the table and pull on your coat.

“... I don't care what happened, there is no way he's this late!” He pointed at the door for a second then a lightbulb went off in his head, “Wait, he wouldn't just skip out, right?”

He sprinted out of the room out of the large doors yelling, “I'm not gonna let him get away with putting all the punishment on us! Let's go henchmen! We're gonna catch Ace and make him do all the window washing!”

You slapped your forehead and casually jogged after the cat.

You two ended up heading down the hallway and up a set of stairs into a classroom. Problem was that the classroom was empty, and Grim was still upset.

You were not having this, “Grim let’s just go back and clean the windows and tell the Headmaster. I’d rather not fight him for him to just not listen.” Your social battery was almost out, and you did not want to go through another confrontation.

Grim could never listen to you, “Orraaaa! Where's Ace! We're not gonna let you hide away! .....Ah, there's nobody here!?” He finally realized the obvious.

At least until a voice came out of nowhere, “No, I’m here.”

Grim jumped behind you and latched onto your cloak, “Fffgyyyaaaaaaaaa!!!! The picture talked!!” His hand trembled while pointing to a picture of the wall of the classroom.

The painting on the wall looked offended at the cat’s statement, “What now? It's not uncommon for paintings to talk at this school.The Wall Lady over there, the Wall Gentleman over here, everyone can speak. Portraits can speak because they have a mouth. That's normal, you know?”

“How high am I today?” You announced to both the cat and the painting.

The painting ignored your remark and continued his story, “Rather than restlessly floating in the air, I've been sitting still on this wall perfectly for more than fifty years. Your 'normal' and my 'normal' differ in regards to our quirks. Isn't that true. That aside, who are you looking for?”

You, then, noticed that out one of the long windows there was a figure flashing in the side of your vision. The figure seemed to scurry out of view once you turned around, so you assumed that they were watching you beforehand. You could not think of anyone in this school who you would have charmed as much for them to follow you and stalk you, but there always is that possibility. You continued to stare out the window waiting for a sign that something had changed until Grim vigorously tugged on your cloak in the direction of the door to the classroom. You assumed his conversation with the painting went well for once he got your attention, he was off.

Down the hall and out the window of the cafeteria again, Grim ran out of school and even asked a couple (one with green hair and odd eye brows yelled at you to not bother his job and another was the pair of twins you met this morning who glared at you two when you walked too close) while you patiently walked behind him where this ‘East building’ was. Finally, he arrived while you were behind him out of breath with a hand on your chest .

This building had to have been the most wack building you have ever seen: there were seven large mirror entrance things with weird accessories all around them. One of them looked broken, one had bat wings on them, and one even had sand surrounding it. All of this was from a movie or book, and it was incredibly obvious.

In front of the main entrance to this odd entrance area, you stood with your hands on your knees and your breath gone.

Then, in front of you a male with red orange hair stood, and you knew that he was your target.

“No way I’m washing a 100 windows. Gonna head home…” The target crossed his arms and shrunk his shoulders.

Grim decided that sneaking up on him was off the table, “Heeeeeeey yoooouuuuu!!!” The male swiveled around locking eyes with your dumb cat and then yourself before yelling, “Geh! Found me!” and running away

Grim was having none of it and ran after him. Both of them began to yell at each other while running around the place.

You, however, found the perfect person to help you: another male with dark blue hair in the same uniform as Ace or whatever. You judged that he was the perfect person to catch him as the target was running in his direction. So you screamed and pointed to the red head, “Catch that idiot!” because what else would people listen to.

The blue haired male panicked and started glancing around the room to figure out what to do while mumbling something-Grim even responding once- until he finally cried out, “Anything is fine, so come on! Something heavy!”

The ‘something heavy’ ended up sending the target into a pancake, causing you to laugh and miss some of the next exchange of shouts between the three.

Once you turned back around to face them you caught the end of a phrase said by your target directed at you, you assumed, as his eyes were locked on yours, “Those 100 windows should be clean in a flash.”

“Okay, dude, I don’t think you know how to count because 5 windows lasts me three songs on my playlist,” How hard is this college if this dude can’t even count? “Besides, how big are these windows. I was told nothing besides cafeteria, after school, and clean a hundred windows.”

The red head scoffed at your answer and rolled his eyes at you. The blue head’s eyes widened after he whipped his head in your direction, and he opened his mouth only to close it again and ask a question, “Washing 100 windows as punishment... What in the world did you all do?”

The target voiced his opinion on the situation, “I got into it a bit with the furball, and we might have charred the Queen of Hearts' statue a bit.”

The blue head began shouting at the target about how “people would get angry with” and “on the first day.”

The red head yelled back at him, but you were distracted because the mention of Grim gave you an odd feeling in your stomach like he was going to do something wrong. You surveyed the area, seeing if he was even present, and to you absolutely surprise, he was not.

Missing both of the boy’s introductions, you called out, “Grim yeeted himself out of here, dudes.”

Both males blanked for a second before their faces darted to you and then to where the cat was to find him with a call from Ace of, “Ah! The furball’s gone!”

There was then a conversation between the two while you quickly got to work searching for the direction he went in until the redhead pulled you by both of your shoulders to motion to you while keeping eye contact with the other guy, “This deadweight can’t use magic so they don’t count! Let’s go!”

And you were off, chasing after a cat that would never listen to you with two idiots who were arguing in each other’s faces.

You all ran through hallways to find him and even peeked in classrooms to search for him, but you were empty handed. However, once you got to the cafeteria, the cat was already present and scurrying around on all four of his legs.

Red head bolted after him only to end up face first into a wall, “Darn it! He’s darting around everywhere!”

Grim let out a snicker watching the read head’s fail, “Catch me if you can suckers!” He mocked all of you by blowing raspberries and sticking out his tongue.

You tried to predict Grim’s general direction and walked to that area missing out on the red-blue combo’s discussion, but with their brains they could never completely destroy anything.

So you were wrong. They managed to decimate an old ginormous chandelier that looked to be something on the top 10 richest people in the world could pay for. The red-blue combo had the combined IQ of 2 because blue decided that since Grim managed to climb onto the chandelier, they can try too.

And you breathed once and strolled over to them with a smile on your face, making the three of them turn around and stare at your state, “How dumb can you be? I was positive that you were older than three, but now I’m not sure.” You smacked your forehead and kept your hand there, “Really. I could deal with the fight because this is an all boys school and testosterone runs high, but ruining such an expensive chandelier that even if I became one of the richest people in this world I would not be able to pay back is not what is ‘acceptable’ to me.”

Grim drunkenly scurried to you and grabbed onto your cloak to keep him standing, "Pleasee, pleaseee, help us!” He fell to the floor and you picked him right up and placed him on your hip.

The blue haired male started pulling on his hair, “I-I screwed up! I didn't think about the landing!”

Ace swiveled to him almost tripping over his foot and began his statement with utmost calmness, “Are you... AN IDIOT!? We caught Grim but if the Headmaster finds out we busted the chandelier..”

You locked eyes with him and smiled even brighter, “There was just a big crash in one of the largest rooms in this school, meaning that any loud noise in this room is going to bounce off all the walls, but let’s not forget we also left the doors open. Of course, the headmaster knows!” You threw your hands up in the air trying not to punch this kid in the face because you did not want another crime of assault added to your list of damaged public property twice.

A cough was heard located near the front of the cafeteria, causing all four of you to circle your heads in that direction only to find the very bane of your existence there.

The headmaster.

“If I... find out?” He stuttered out clearly trying to calm all of the anger in his body because this was the first day of school and no one needed this.

This began a very long conversation between the headmaster and the two kids who had an total IQ of 2. Grim was stuck on your hip for all of the speech while the blue haired kid basically begged the headmaster for a way to both fix the chandelier and stay in the school.

The headmaster could only reply to the boy’s question with, “There is no normal chandelier. This is a magical chandelier that uses candles that will burn for eternity. It is a masterpiece made by a legendary maester of magical tools. It has been entrusted to the school since its very foundation...Taking into consideration to its historical value, it would cost no less than a billion Madol.” He gazed down at the boy with his hands across his chest, “Can you pay for those damages?”

The kid was busy panicking to himself while the kid who you fought this morning let out a confused “But, Teacher, can't you just fix it up with magic…”

The headmaster could only shake his head, “Magic is not all powerful. More importantly, the magic crystal, what we call the Heart of any magical tool was shattered. No two magic crystals are the same. The chandelier will never be lit again.”

The two males had to look down and mumble to themselves because they could not argue against him.

However, once the headmaster brought up that the crystal that powered the chandelier (whatever that was) was located in the Dwarf’s mine the blue head seemed stuck on going as to not get expelled. You all had to deliver the crystal before tomorrow morning, not giving you much time.

You could only hope that you still could have a roof over your head if you got this crystal, so you followed after the blue head’s sprint out of the cafeteria with Grim attached to you. You breathed in again and realized that you have gotten no sleep for around 24 hours, but there’s nothing you can do besides going on this adventure.

Here’s to adventuring.

Grim had managed to miss a huge portion of what just happened as he passed out after blue threw red onto the chandelier, but now Grim has wide eyes directed to you when you told him that, “Yeah, you should have stayed asleep because we might be getting thrown out of our only home.”

Red pulled on his hair complaining, “Aaaah.. Why did it turn into something like this? Today is really not my day..”

Blue was quiet for once, suspiciously, and glared at red, “Now isn't the time for mumbling! Let's go!” You three had finally made it to the mirror chamber and while you might normally gaze in awe at the floating coffins and mirror, this is not the time for that.

Blue turned to face the mirror and began, “Mirror, mirror on the wall! Light our way to Dwarf’s mine!”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #twst x you #twst x mc

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serararku · 3 years

Text

Where the Wild Things Are Pt 2

<Theme>

"The tall round-eared brutes came lurking through the night! With sharp blades and flat teeth!" Chronicler Nahe got on her hands and knees to crawl along the dirt, causing the children watching her performance to shudder and whisper amongst themselves. Her assistants came from around the bonfire, covering their ears with bandanas, using their tails to imitate belts, and with half-bowls tied against the sides of their heads to resemble Hyuran ears. "With anger and greed they sought to plunder Miqo'te treasures and sell the kittens to the tribeless cities!"

"Aarrrgh!" An assistant snarled, lunging at the huddled group; their startled squeals put a smile on Era's face, as nostalgia from when she was small enough to sit with them began to settle in. "Yaargh I'm gonna take you across the salt waters and make big profits from your tails! Yo-ho-ho!" One of them began stuffing a large woolen sack with hastily made dolls; seeing that sent some of the younger kittens into a panic, before their mothers sitting behind them calmed the children down.

Nahe let out a loud and exaggerated gasp. "But wait! Who's that in the distance?!" Another assistant slowly approached from the other end, her tail and ears uncovered.

"I am Era Rarku! Azeyma's champion and the greatest blade master that ever lived!" She pointed her straightened stick at the 'pirates' as the kittens cheered her on. "When I send you to your gods, tell them Azeyma gives her regards!"

The costumed group rushed the woman, swinging their fake weapons in wide and telegraphed attacks. She would barely tap her foes with the end of her stick, sending them flipping and twirling in the sand; one pirate got slapped on the foot, and she began hopping up and down while loudly hollering, much to the delighted laughter of the audience. The last pirate was wearing a barrel with a painted grimace on her head, and she slowly stumbled forward after everyone else was laying on the ground. The Era character spun around- carefully avoiding stepping on anyone's hands- before tapping the neck of the final foe; when the barrel dropped into the dirt, red paper confetti came bursting out of the injury, as the woman flailed her arms before collapsing alongside the others.

"With the evil pirate king defeated, the kittens were saved from a cruel and terrible fate!" Nahe bowed when the children cheered and the adults clapped, but she wasn't done yet. "Oh no! The cowards hiding in their black shells want revenge for their pirate friends!"

As the pirates rolled over and hurried out of the way, four more people came shuffling in from around the haze of the bonfire. These 'Garleans' wore thick layers painted black, with buckets on their heads to mimic their magitek armor. Loud booing from the children warmed Era's heart as she watched them scowl and hiss. One daughter in particular jumped to her feet, ran to the closest one, and gave her a good few kicks in the shin before her mother was able to scoop her up and carry her back to the group.

Nahe waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "So powerful and strong were the shelled men… that not even Azeyma's champion herself could take them alone! So she called others to aid her in this fight!"

One by one they came out in their costumes, the audience gasping, cheering, and clapping as they appeared. The first one carried a giant wooden mask shaped like the head of a black wolf, complete with a blazing torch for one eye, and an eyepatch covering the other. "Had-rel, the great Ash Wolf!" The second one shuffled in wearing pots and pans, with a thick bucket on her head. "Rond, the Iron Golem!" Next came a woman wreathed in flowing silk and satin, whose gloves were dipped in tar and set aflame. "Zaravi, Fist of the Falling Comet!" Last waddled in an assistant no older than ten summers old, wearing a cast iron pot on her head and dragging a club nearly twice her size. "And Cobbsy! The Halfling Hero!"

Era couldn't help but laugh at the costumes resembling her friends attacking the ‘shelled men’. Pherond’s character was making robot sounds as she hammered away at a foe, Hadriel’s very loose depiction was too busy eating people and howling up at the moon, while R’zevi and Conobharo were simply spinning around in circles. Yet her own depiction lunged forward with the stick and slipped it under the arm of the last Garlean, causing the stick to accidentally break in her grasp. Era’s eyes glimmered as that dreadful memory returned in a blink- when she drove her blazing blade into the stomach of Virilus sas Tullus in her blind rage, and watched him choke on his own screams while he was slowly cooked alive from the inside out. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened, and she suddenly felt incredibly cold despite sitting comfortably close to the blazing bonfire. Yuun noticed her daughter’s reaction, and gently squeezed her hand; it was over, that nightmare was long over.

As the tribe’s applause filled her ringing ears, and the costumed villains and heroes alike bowed before departing, Chronicler Nahe waited once more until everyone had quieted down. “Yes. She faced kidnappers, pirates, brigands, bandits, and scoundrels. She stood strong against a hundred shelled men, and lived to tell the tale. But her greatest challenge was not some mere mortal… but a great and terrible beast! A voracious monster that wanted nothing more than to eat her and her friends!” Just as Era was beginning to calm down, her anxiety crept up the crevasse of her back; she didn’t think Nahe had the time or the resources to make a costume resembling that mutated dragon abomination.

But when she saw it shamble out from the shadows and flame, relief washed over her as a smile crept along her lips.

It was the girl in the wolf head again, only this time it poorly resembled the head of a dragon. The little girl depicting Conobharo was back as well, armed with a short stick and her traditional Zu Tribe battlegarb; she was supposed to be Era, only this time much smaller, likely to help show how much larger that monster was to her. “Era Rarku pelted the beast with arrows, severed limbs upon limbs with straight blade, even lured it into carefully laid traps! But nothing could mortally wound this immortal foe! But how did she kill it? How did she live to tell the tale?!”

“She used a big rock!” Cried out a child.

“Fire! A raging fire!” Hollered another.

One of the quieter kittens eventually mumbled out, “M-... maybe she pushed it off a cliff? Or tied it up and buried it?”

“She used a really big rock! That was on fire! That rolled down from a cliff to bury it!”

The Chronicler chuckled with the rest of the adults before giving away the answer. “Ha-! No, no, no! Azeyma’s champion is mighty, true! But she is also terribly clever! If the thick hide could not be pierced, then…!”

The ‘dragon’ head suddenly opened its wide mouth and chomped down on the little girl, with several hands scooping her off the ground to pull her into the costume. Half of the children cried out in shock, as the toddlers began frightfully squealing and panicking again. “MMMmmmm…!” Hummed the beast, rubbing its bloated stomach. “Yummy! That’s some gooooooooood eating! Hahaha! Now, where can I find more kittens to devou- oh… oh no! I’ve got such a tummy ache…! W-what’s happening to meeeEEeeeEEEeeeEEEEAAAAGH?!”

The little warrior burst out from the creature’s stomach, covered in red and orange rope. The kittens cheered her on as she pulled on the entrails, causing the twitching monster to fall onto its side and let out a comically exaggerated death rattle. Soon the whole tribe was clapping and cheering- everyone but Era.

“Mmmn... not exactly how I told her the stories.” She mumbled, thoroughly amused yet disappointed. “She’s making it sound like I’m some sort of legend, but... almost none of this is true.”

“There’s enough truth in it to make it count.” Her mother assured, squeezing her hand. “Her job is to inspire the children in hopes they will accomplish great things. It’s no different than the stories she used to tell you.”

“To Era Rarku!” Chronicler Nahe pointed at her, snapping her out of her dazed stupor. “To the victorious champion!” Soon everyone’s eyes were upon her, with many urging her to step forward; even her mother let go of her hand and let her rise to her feet.

A tingling shiver crawled up her spine as she stood there, tail bristled and ears flat. Era didn't know what to say- she never once thought the whole of the tribe would shower her with so much praise. "I-I don't have a speech prepared…"

"Show everyone your fire sword!" Yuun shouted, sending another wave of excited cheers through the crowd. "Show us how you defeated the shelled men!"

Era quickly placed her hands together in rapid succession, performing the right mudra through muscle memory. When she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her katana, pulled the shimmering blade from its sheath, and held it aloft in the air, the dancing flames from the bonfire leapt forth to swallow her weapon whole. Then Era spun her fire-wreathed katana in a dazzling flourish, showering the sand around her feet with sizzling embers. Her family cheered again, with the kittens jumping up and down with joy; it was remarkable how easily impressed they were, but it only made sense- mudra and magicka enchantments are only truly common in the far east. Era had turned a bright shade of pink when she slowly slipped her burning blade back into its sheath. All this attention was starting to get into her head, and the rush from everyone's adoration was beginning to give her a high she could get used to. As she slowly slid her blazing blade into its sheath to snuff the flames, something just within her peripheral vision caught her attention.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him; she didn’t recognize him at first- all hunched down in a pathetic attempt to remain unnoticed- but the moment their eyes met, a scorching heat burned in her stomach and was well on its way to rising out of her throat.

Denoh.

He still looked like a mangy bastard, only older than the last time she saw him, and shorter than she remembered. This was the coward who poisoned Tage’s meal before their duel, the boy responsible for banishing him and ultimately sending him to his death. The black leather collar around his neck could only mean one thing- he was defeated by a Tia, yet denied an honorable death. Seeing him slumped over and dripping with shame didn’t give her the peace she wanted- in fact it only made her angrier; no way in hell could this feeble rat ever hope to defeat anyone in a fair fight. It was because of him that Era left her tribe to find a real man in the first place. No Tia who relied on dirty tricks and sabotage should live to regret it. Denoh breathed the sweet air of decent folk, walked on the same ground as her family, and lived in the perpetual shadow of better men. Allowing him to live is an affront to everything Era worked toward, and the need to wet her blade with the blood of traitors, monsters, and cowards alike came back with a vengeance. She didn't even hear her family quiet down, nor the heavy footsteps approaching from her flank.

Just the dizzying pounding of her own heart, and that low, steady ringing.

"Not in front of my children." A deep voice cut through the cheering and dropped the area in a sudden silence. Era whipped around to find herself standing before the second-tallest Miqo'te she had ever seen. Muscle upon muscle clenched beneath his mahogany skin and ritualistic scars, and behind his long shaggy brown hair burned a pair of eyes the color of Dalamud in its final days.

"A-are you…?" Era fumbled with her words.

"Yes. My name is Vahli. You must be Yuun's firstborn." He slowly approached her, keeping his red eyes fixed on her form. This giant of a man towered over Era when he neared close enough to touch. He then circled her like he was a starving coeurl, and when his fingers brushed against her shoulders or ran down locks of her hair, a chill shot up her spine like lightning. "Era, right? We'll talk more after the feast."

"O-okay…" she whimpered, never taking her eyes off him while he approached the roasting boar. When she peeled her eyes away from him long enough to glance at her mother, she was greeted with an encouraging smile and a wink.

Vahli pulled a long bone knife from a leather strap on his hip, grabbed a juicy haunch with his bare hand, and began carving the boar into pieces. He fed the kittens first, of course; none of them were his, but luckily their trust could be bought at a low, yet tasty, price. Next came his wives, who got the biggest helping of the hindquarters of the entire tribe. Every woman was served more than they could reasonably eat- everyone but Era; in fact, her Nuhn didn't even give her a passing glance when he offered a choice cut to her mother. After that awkward exchange, the warrior women invaluable during battle and on hunting parties were served next, getting the more lean parts of the pig. He served whatever was left to the slaves: the feet, ears, cheek meat, and sinew. Even Denoh got enough to make it through the night.

"Enjoy the feast." Vahli spoke, sweeping his gaze across their faces. He then settled his gaze on her mother before adding, "You know where to find me."

"She won't be long." Yuun assured him, slipping her daughter a piece of her dinner once he turned his back to return to his chambers. "Come with me, sweetie. It's time to freshen you up for your fateful evening."

---

Mentions: @hadriel-ffxiv, @rzevi-tia-ffxiv, @conobharo-cobharo-xiv

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #1: That Night in Mykonos

[Heatwave // Godless] [Drabble Masterlist]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: That one not-so-forgotten filthy drunken night in Mykonos that you and Taehyung never speak about again. For good reason.

Genre: drabble, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do it), beach sex, oral (m/f), taehyung’s tongue technology, dom!Tae, daddy kink, exhibitionism kink, facial (lol oop), cumplay, spanking, degradation if you count slapping your face with his dick, may make you fall in love with this couple even more soz

Word count: 6k (why am i incapable of making even a drabble short and quick?)

A/N: As per highly requested… :) If you’ve randomly stumbled upon this, definitely read Heatwave first to understand the plot.

The gentle washing of the waves sings a lullaby to your ears. You have always loved the sound of the ocean, so serene, yet holding so much power. Wiggling your toes, you watch the minute grains of sand trickle off your feet like a waterfall. Nonchalant, you take a swig of cider, its fruity acidity burning a bittersweet trail down your throat.

‘Man, I fucking love Mykonos.’ Taehyung slurs beside you, tipsy from his fourth bottle of beer he’s clutching like a trophy.

‘Thank you again for bringing me here, Taehyung.’

The two of you are sat on a towel by the beach, watching the moon paint its own reflection in the water. Sky crystal clear, as it is every single night here in Greece, the constellations hanging over your heads set a tranquil tone to the last evening of your trip.

‘Hey, what did I say? Stop thanking me. Now you have to finish your drink.’ Playfully, he flicks the tip of your nose in reprimand.

Grinning, you roll your eyes but follow his stupid rule. Not that you can’t hold your liquor, but this is your seventh drink, and you’re starting to feel it pulsating up to your head.

‘No, but you were right.’ Words tumble out of his pretty lips that you can’t help but admire. ‘It was a good call not to go out tonight. If we actually went hard at VOID, our flight tomorrow would be hell.’ He is referring to the club you have been religiously visiting almost every night this week. ‘This is much better. Nice and chill.’

With a mighty sigh, he falls onto his back, head hitting the edge of the towel, narrowly missing sand invasion in his hair. Rolling your empty bottle away, you join beside him.

‘This has to be the weirdest but also best holiday of my life.’ You ruminate. The stars are shining particularly bright tonight, you wonder if they know it’s your last night here and want to bid farewell.

The chesty chuckle Taehyung lets out reverberates into you. ‘Definitely the weirdest.’ He turns his head to face you. ‘I can’t believe I’m in Mykonos with this random chick I met in the club, who offered to rent me her place, so I guess she’s now my roommate, when this whole trip was planned to be a surprise for my girlfriend who had been cheating on me for months.’

Taehyung is especially chatty and vivacious when drunk, you’ve noticed from the past few days. Normally he’s laid back, spaced out even. But give him some booze, and all his emotions and thoughts cartwheel out of him. Though you’re only beginning to know him, he’s immensely interesting, you can tell he holds so many layers to him that requires inquisition over time.

‘Wow, random chick from the club? Bitch, you ripped out my hair.’ You laugh and smack at his chest, hand lingering for a little too long.

Wait, chest smack? Why are you using your classic move on him?

You’re a flirt, you can’t help it. The cider’s doing its thing, you guess.

‘Man, I’m so sorry about that, you have no idea how awful I felt.’ He inches closer to you until his head is rested upon your shoulder. Right, he’s also especially touchy when drunk. Anyone who walks past right now could mistaken you as close friends, when in reality, you’ve known each other no more than a month.

To be completely fair, you have spent everyday of this said month together since that club night, helping him move in and unpack, and now travelling together. You guess you’re kind of friends now.

‘These past few weeks have been so crazy. I was just trying to have a good night out when a wild Kim Taehyung appeared and somersaulted into my life. And now we’re lying by the Mediterrenean sea together, tanned and drunk.’ His hair is tickling your neck so you push it away. Your fingers brush against his forehead and he hums at the contact.

‘But hey, on a serious note, hand on heart,’ Taehyung gazes up at you, ‘I’m so glad I got to do this with you. You are one of the coolest people I know, and I wouldn’t have wanted to come here with anyone else. Not like I have anyone else right now… My ex can go fuck herself, or fuck Jimin. I have a bigger dick anyway.’

You sit up, choking on your laughter. Out of the blue, he’ll always hit you with these one-liners that are absolutely pure gold. ‘Okay, Mr. I’ve-Fucked-Nine-Girls-This-Week.’

Pride beaming from his smile, he tugs you back down beside him. ‘Hey, I was in a relationship for three years, I need this. Miss I-Had-A-Threesome-With-Two-Guys-On-Our-First-Night.’

The two of you splutter your drunken giggles. The two guys were Italian, come on, how could you have passed up on the opportunity?

Despite the time of evening, the breezes that gust pass are humid. The temperature is perfect, actually, no sun blazing down to melt you into puddles. You’re probably too drunk to appreciate this moment but one day you’ll look back at this night cherishingly, you hope.

‘You’re right. I’m glad I came with you, Taehyung.’ It’s your turn to look at him. ‘I’ll get such an earful from Lotta when I get back but it’s all worth it. I can’t believe we got away with half of the things that we did!’

‘I know right?’ His arm feels particularly warm against you. It may be the alcohol working its magic but his voice sounds so deep and mellow tonight, like dark chocolate dissolving in your mouth. ‘The way they upgraded our room to a premium when we pretended to be a couple on our honeymoon.’

The memory is fuzzy but fond in your inebriated mind. ‘You’re welcome. I’m a master bullshitter.’

‘We even got that couple’s spa treatment and free wine and dine night.’

To be completely honest, it wasn’t difficult pretending to be loved up newly-weds. A lot of that affection you were displaying towards Taehyung wasn’t fake; he’s this perfect specimen of a man, gorgeous face, toned body, captivating personality, quirky humour - anyone’s dream boyfriend, really. You’ve tried to tone your attraction to him down, you can’t be lusting over your new roommate after all. Things would get too messy. But it was just for fun anyway, there’s no harm in a few pretend embraces and neck kisses to get those couple’s perks.

You’re just friends.

Though a part of you envies the nine girls he’s slept with this holiday, because you’ve seen the outline of his bulge in his swim trunks and Holy Shit… But as much as you like to fuck around, there’s a clear line that separates roommates and guys you bang. Those are two mutually exclusive groups of people in your life, the Venn Diagram does not intersect.

‘Hey, you wanna go for one last swim?’ You’re pulled from your thoughts by Taehyung’s suggestion.

It’s a bad idea, swimming this late at night, having downed a few bottles. But when has your inner conscience ever stopped you from doing what you want?

‘’Course.’ He is already removing his shirt as he stands, and you can all but ogle at the muscle of his moonlit back as you reply.

Following his action, you turn away from him and peel off your shorts that have stuck to your skin from sitting for so long. Are you perhaps trying to tempt him with the view of your bent over ass? Hmm, possibly… He does pay an awful lot of attention to your rear every time you wear these shorts... Carelessly flinging your top onto the rest of your things, you spy him staring at you in your periphery, hands stuffed into his shorts pockets. You adjust the pad of your bikini top, perhaps more dramatic than you needed to.

A smirk plays at your mouth. Why are you trying to get his attention?

Feet sinking into the soft sand, you pad after him towards the calm beckoning water. Your head is feeling hazy from the ciders, and when you spot the lazy smile he’s wearing, you know it’s hitting him too. Gazing up at the moon, you realise you feel blue. Not blue in a sad melancholic sense. But blue as in cool, relaxed, heart-at-peace blue; you’re going for one last night swim in the most beautiful country with your handsome new roommate, blue. A hint of romantic lyricism. Maybe.

‘I’m really gonna mis- Taehyung!’ You screech into the quiet night when he all of a sudden picks you up and carries you bridal-style into the sea.

And tosses you into the water.

Arms flailing midair, you’re catapulted into the waves like a pebble. The cold hits your curled spine first, harsh and shocking. Then it detonates within you, a volcano of ice numbing all your senses and aching your bones.

When you find your bearings and gasp up for air, you see him, ocean up to his knees, head whipped back in laughter, clutching his tensing core, eyes pinched into crescents as the most warming sound leaves his mouth.

‘You piece of shit!’ You lunge for him, but your limbs feel heavy in the water, restricting the power of your attack that he dodges so effortlessly.

But you don’t give up so easily. Tide washing you towards him, you launch yourself again, saltine droplets splattering all over his face. Resigning, Taehyung lets you drag him by the hand away from the shore, waddling clumsily against the stubborn current that’s determined to push you back to the beach.

‘Dick and balls, it’s freezing.’ He heaves.

‘Wuss. You’re not the one who got dunked.’ The chill is licking at your skin, seeping into your hair that splays out in floating silk tendrils. You’ve stopped walking on the sand now, instead spreading onto your front and allowing your swimming arms and paddling legs to move you.

Water up to his chest, you see the goosebumps rise on his blue-bronze unsullied skin, star-freckled sea reflecting wavering diamond silhouettes onto his chiseled front. Following the defined protrusion of his salient collarbones, then the sleek inward curve of his neck, your gaze arrives at his face. His strong brow never fails to strike you; tongue loitering out between his folded lips; brown tufts of salt-kissed, breeze-licked hair a mess but a masterpiece still. Eyes painted with a warm summer glimmer, sapphire and still, he observes you from where he stands.

The fluttering in your heart is now indistinguishable from your shivering due to the wet cold.

‘Come on, let’s swim out a bit further.’ He nods to the open ocean, refusing to spare you from his pinning stare.

Body heavy from the alcohol, the cold and simply your lethargism, you dive below the surface. With your water-blurred vision, you swim after his slow walking legs, bubbles you release tickling your face. You grapple onto his ankle, hear his muffled yelp and stifle a mischievous giggle.

Launching off the sand bed, you lurch up to the surface, inhaling sharply at your first breath of air. You push your hair back to see Taehyung regard you with a mystical expression.

‘It’s too deep here,’ you whine, ‘I can’t touch the floor.’ Not particularly athletic, treading water in order to stay afloat is wearing you down.

‘Hold on to me then, midget.’ He chuckles and holds out his hand which you quickly grab onto. With the stability he provides, you pull yourself up his arm like a buoy line and perch your elbow on his shoulder.

Which draws you unexpectedly close to his face. Nose mere inches from his chin. You smell his familiar honey musk.

Unfazed by your proximity, his arm circles behind you before landing one your waist, the warmth of his touch blooming like flowers on your skin. Why does his hand feel so nice on you? Why can’t you stop staring at him?

‘Better?’ Vibrations of his throat hum into your core.

‘Thanks.’ Your poise on his shoulder is sliding so you snake your arm around his neck, hoisting your body up against his. The contact snaps a cord inside you, sensation of him tingling everywhere you touch.

‘You’re such a little princess.’ He rolls his eyes theatrically in feign mockery, but his smirk betrays his mirth.

‘Shut up, you love it.’ This playful banter weighs heavy in your chest, constricting it, winding it. Because if it were anybody else, it would be flirting... Or maybe you are flirting with him right now. You’re not sure anymore.

A droplet of water is trickling along the edge of his jaw, your focus is transfixed at its smooth descent to his chin. Your bodies are bobbing with the calm waves, up, down, up, down. Then your eyes lock and-

Fuck.

You want him.

You really fucking want him.

Right now.

Right here.

Taehyung’s glare sears a mark in you, and it’s burning like the flames of hell all the way down to your sex. With the side of his finger, he doesn’t need to so much as touch you to tip your head up his way because that’s how willing you are. One tilt, that’s all it takes to kiss him right now. His fingers are sinking into your tender waist, and immediately you wonder how they must feel inside you.

‘I do love it.’ He slides his cheek against yours and traces the bridge of your nose with the tip of his.

And then.

You taste the sea on his lips, salt and cold. It feels like diving into the ocean, plunging into the deep blue and simply allowing your body to be swept away. His kiss is greedy, hungry, willing you to submit to him and follow his lead. And in your intoxicated state, you do so.

Legs wrapping around his torso in the water, his hands caress up your thighs to your ass, digging into your plump flesh with an ardour that releases a damp arousal from your slit. Your own fingers grope down his chest and toy with his hair, scratching and tugging. When he nibbles on your bottom lip and you know that you’re done for. You melt like putty in his control, meeting his tongue with a soft obedience you don’t normally exert.

‘Taehyung.’ You gasp into his mouth.

‘I’m all yours tonight, baby.’ is all he says before diving back into you. Those words sends the possessive animal in your mind wild with satisfaction. Because yes, he better fucking be all yours tonight.

Kissing Taehyung feels different. Perhaps it’s because of the build up of tension you have been harbouring these past few days. Or maybe it’s the thrill of knowing that you shouldn’t be doing this, the thrill of doing the forbidden. Or rather, it’s the way he wields his dominance over you so ferally and fervently, like he’s been waiting for as long as you have to do this.

Kissing Taehyung is teeth and tongue.

Kissing Taehyung is salt and the midnight breeze.

Kissing Taehyung is blue. The kind of blue you see only in the hottest of flames.

When you feel his stiff length poke underneath you, your cunt is set ablaze with desire. Desire to sink down onto him this instant and have him pound into you amidst the ocean until you both feel faint. Desire for him to break you in half with all his might, make your eyes water with from the pleasure he stabs into you.

Slowly he begins to walk you back to the shore, gripping your legs around his waist as you lock your arms around his neck. Lips never leaving each other longer than a second to breathe.

His ravenous mouth travels down to your breasts, and he doesn’t hesitate to devour them from your bathing suit, suckling angry red marks down your cleavage and around your nipples. Though clothed, the prominence of his cock burrows between your wide open entrance, rubbing against your bikini-clad clit and making you thrust your hips further into him.

Feverish from his touch, you don’t realise you’re on land until he gently falls onto his knees and carefully places you on the towels below him. Too drunk to even care if anyone else is on the beach, not that there was before you got in the water, you pull him by the neck onto you.

As he kisses a torching trail down your wet body, your mind is somewhere else, in a heaven that worships Taehyung. Hands kneading your exposed breasts, the wisp of his breath tingles down your navel, tying a knot in your core. With his teeth, he obscenely tugs loose the string that ties your bikini bottom together. The fabric falls loose lifelessly, revealing your soaking cunt, shimmering with want for him.

‘So wet.’ He muses as he kisses your pelvic bone, finger stroking up your slick to gather the liquid of your arousal. Then he prods his finger into your mouth, your tongue compliantly lapping up your own taste, salty from the sea. ‘Who made you this wet?’

‘You.’ You’re practically pleading as he sucks viciously at your inner thigh, so close to your weeping pussy.

‘I want you to call me daddy.’

You stiffen under him. Daddy. He wants you to call him daddy. Oh, but of course Taehyung has a daddy kink. It’s so ridiculously characteristic now that he has revealed it, that if you aren’t drunk, you would be rolling your eyes and laughing.

‘Fine, daddy.’ There’s an undertone of travesty to your reply. Whether he notices, he doesn’t show as he kisses closer and closer to your slit.

At the first contact of his lips to your clit, your hips buckle upwards and fingers fly to entangle his hair. Sucking harshly on your sensitive bud, all you’re capable of is squirming and writhing underneath him like a possessed body. The sensation of his mouth sucking on your succulence sends a shot of ecstasy down your quaking legs. Your head feels dizzy.

‘Fuck!’ You whine.

‘You like that, baby?’ When he looks up at you, wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winds in your stomach.

‘Yes, daddy.’ Your grip on his hair tightens.

Then he’s gorging you like a feast, tongue fluttering on your swollen bundle of nerves, your kryptonite, teeth scraping along your folds seductively. After several licks of your entrance, he pushes not one, but two digits into your cunt. They ease in, lubricated by your moist walls that welcome the pressure of his intrusion into you like the open sea. He draws wide circles inside you, and it feels like your innards are being stirred to perfection by a metal rod. In the meantime, his assault on your clit does not falter, rhythmically hitting his tongue against you, allowing the vibrations of his humming to penetrate your core.

Looking down, this is simply the most beautiful sight you’ve ever witnessed. Taehyung, eyes glimpsing up at you hungrily, face buried nose-deep in your pussy, hands gripping under your thighs that are rested on his shoulders, all the while the moon shines its ethereal glow onto you and the iridescent ocean in the background plays a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps.

Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure arrives at your clit. ‘Oh, fuck yes!’ You screech, throat raw from the pure elation that washes over you. The throbbing in your cunt releases at his continuous friction, pulsating so wildly you think you will burst. His fingers pump out your high as he sucks one last time, long and hard, on your beating clit. ‘Ah… Oh my god… Taehyung…’

Finally he emerges from between your legs to breathe. You watch as your fluid dribble down his chin lewdly, your thumb swipes to catch the wetness.

‘How was that?’ Untangling his arms from your legs, he walks up on his elbows to meet your lips in a tender kiss.

‘Mind-blowing.’ You utter against his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head for dramatic effect. ‘Let’s continue back in our room.’ Quickly you do up your bikini, impatient for more.

Without needing another word, Taehyung sweeps you into his arms, gathers all your belongings and hastily carries you back to your hotel located just a minute away from the beach. Although, it takes much longer than a minute for you to arrive seeing as multiple detours are made along the way, fondling behind a tree, kissing in the elevator and missing your floor.

And when you’re finally in the confines of your room, he pins you to the closed door, not even bothering to switch on the lights, lips latched onto your magnetising neck. Your wrists trapped in his grip against the hard wood, you ache to touch him as his teeth find your earlobe. Nipping at your soft round flesh, a pleasant shock is sent down your spine at the twinge of pain.

‘Daddy…’ You sigh.

He pulls away to stare into your beseeching eyes. ‘What do you want daddy to do to you?’ His voice is a low grumble of dominance, digging its talons into your brain.

‘I want… I want you to fuck me until I cry.’ In the dark of the room, your attention flickers to the moonlit terrace outside. ‘Right on that balcony over there.’

Something in his obsidian eyes ignite at your suggestion. Zealous with lust, he brings you through the glass door that opens to the fresh night. ‘You want me to fuck you right here, baby? For everyone to see?’

Danger lurking one kiss away, you sense the precarious position his sanity is at. So you reach down and grab his hard member over his shorts, and tip his mind to a carnal frenzy.

‘Yes please, daddy.’ The name is the last straw for him. His breath hitches as you tug down his pants and allow his enormous cock to spring free.

Spinning you around roughly, he bends you over onto the rail of the balcony and strips off your swimsuit in one deft gesture. From here, you have an unobstructed view of the coast, lined by bustling bars and closing restaurants. The neighbouring terraces are a metre away, if anyone walks out now, they would horrifically witness Taehyung’s gargantuan length about to drill into you from behind.

Your heart is pounding in excitement of the risk as well as the anticipation of his cock. Not being able to see him, he can thrust into you any moment now, he must be revelling in such control he holds.

Then you feel it, his large round tip pressing against your entrance curiously. Your legs shake expectantly while fresh arousal leaks out of you, mixing with his precum he’s pressing into you. ‘Beg one more time for me.’

Taehyung and his motherfucking ego.

‘Please, daddy.’ Allowing the words to drag out on your tongue, you twist your neck to look at him with wide pleading eyes. He looks like a king, towering over you with this much assertion, relishing in the power he holds above you in this very moment.

‘Good girl.’

Hands holding your hips in place, he slams his tremendous member into your gaping cunt in one forceful plunge. You can’t help but cry out at the sheer stretch of your walls he’s spanning. Holy fuck, he’s so big he makes it feels like your first time.

All you feel at first is an incredible cinching of your core, the ache of him impaling his rigid shaft through the resisting pressure of your vagina. God, is he fucking massive. He seems to know it as well because he gives you a second to adjust to his size, palm scaling smoothly up the hill of your back to gather your hair in his hand like a rein. Then he is pummelling into you, hips slapping against your bottom, ringing such vulgar sounds in your ears. His cock, hard as if carved from marble, piercing through the pain and moulding a thing of sweet sweet pleasure inside you. You grip the rail so tight its edge gouges marks into your skin, your head hung low between your tense arms.

‘Fu-u-u-uckk-k-k-’ He fucks those syllables out of you one by one. At this angle, his cock is curving up the wrong way into you, jabbing at pockets that normally aren’t reached.

A part of your soul is no longer with you, propelled elsewhere by his ceaseless merciless attack on your cunt. Then comes the sting of his palm when he spanks a searing hot mark into your ass cheek. The sharp pain is refreshing alongside the dull ache behind the euphoric throb he is penetrating into you.

‘This fucking ass of yours, baby. Been driving me nuts in those shorts all week.’ Another slap echoes in your ears, and you welcome it by curving your back more to tip your tush higher for him.

‘Daddy, you fuck me so good.’ Playing along with this narrative he’s into, you egg him on further, stroking his ego as your walls are stroking his dick. Because, damn, he is fucking you so good. Pounding into you with such vigour and violence that your folds are beginning to sting.

You’ve reached a point now where you’re no longer intoxicated by alcohol, but more the addictive fumes of him.

Moans that fall from his lips tingle at your clit, which you start to play with to add to your stimulation. Another smack on your ass, this time so surprising that you scream out. ‘Yes, be loud for me. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.’ He coaxes.

Taehyung begins to slow, which you know is a sign that he’s close but doesn’t want to blow his load yet. He bends over you, your hair still tied around his wrist, and nips at the shell of your ear. You’ve never known your ear to be such an erogenous zone, for when his tongue flickers at your inner shell, a shudder convulses through you. Leaving slobbery kisses down the curve of your shoulder, he slowly pulls out of you.

‘Finish on the bed?’ As Taehyung embraces you from behind, his strong arm comes under your cold lonely breasts that perk up at his attention, his dripping wet cock sitting between your red ass cheeks. The hum of his deep rasp on your neck sends your head lolling back onto his sweat-dotted chest.

‘Sure.’ What leaves you is a mere huff, you can’t even conjure your voice.

His lips seal yours as he walks you back into the room, leaving the glass door open for the night breeze to grace you. Amidst the savage sex, you treasure such a soft, delicate moment on your tongue, delighting in the way the tips of his fingers trace up your side. When his hand slithers up to your face, you melt into the warm flesh of his palm, mouth opening up for him to unfurl into.

Then the back of your knees hit the bed, and you know it’s about to begin again. Without breaking the union of your lips, you clamber onto the sheets with his frame hovering over you. Grappling on his neck, you drag Taehyung atop you as your head sinks down onto the plush of the pillow.

He sucks on your plump bottom lip one last time before pulling away. Fluid still profusely oozing out of the slit of his tip, telltale of his concupiscence, he perches between your legs. ‘How do you want it, baby?’ His tone endearing, yet eyes deadly dangerous.

Impatient for him to fill you to the brim again, you lift your both legs up for him to grab and place onto his shoulders. ‘Like this please, daddy.’

That’s all you have to say for him to grunt okay and push deep into you, knees digging into the mattress like lampposts. In this position, his cock reaches your cervix without hindrance, his swollen head slamming into your end every thrust he gives. It’s a different type of ache this time, more acutely targeted at the one sensitive spot inside you. As he continues you thrust into you, bollocks swinging at your ass, a build up of sensitivity gathers at your core.

You feel it approaching, that imminent contortion of your cunt, looming over you, on the brink of toppling your senses.

‘Keep going.’ You whimper, the filthy feeling of his prick hammering so fast into you enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to keep them open, watch his tongue poke out in concentration as he watches your body quiver under his. But the intensity of his fucking is truly too overwhelming that a single droplet leaks out and flow down your temple.

‘I’m so close.’ Taehyung heaves, pecking the bone of your ankle. Something ruptures within him, his sanity, humanity, and suddenly with an even more arduous determination he drives into your walls like a crazed beast. Sole purpose now to reach the climax awaiting him, he spreads your legs open wide before him and rabidly plunges his twitching prick.

And for the second and third time this night, your orgasm hits you, one immediately followed by the other. ‘Taehyung, I’m-’ You’re a crying thrashing body beneath him, the ecstatic pleasure obliterating your mind into ruins as your cunt erupts. The string of profanities that leave you sound incoherent to your own hearing.

You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow, you’re sure of it.

Taehyung watches you break on his cock, walls tightening impossibly around him, until only a husk of your being remains.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna come.’ Frantic with excitement, his hips move sloppily. ‘Where should I come?’

‘All over my face? In my mouth?’ Cupping your breast, you gaze up at him with salacious eyes.

‘Oh my fuck- Yes.’

Yanking himself out, a string of your own release threaded at his tip, he slides himself up the bed until his knees are on either side of your head. Pornographically he slaps his hot length on your cheek several times as you roll out your tongue for him. ‘You like that? You like my dick on your face?’

‘Hmmm.’ You engulf his seeping tip in your ready mouth while he jerks himself off with a teenage boy’s zest, his knuckles hitting at the underside of your chin.

Eager to coax his orgasm, you lick fervently at his sensitive head, right on the patch of skin around his slit that drives every man insane.

‘Oh fuck! Baby-’

Abruptly, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Not after two strokes, he is shooting hot white spurts of his seed onto your face, your eyes shutting just in time to avoid being fired at. Some of his fluid lands in your mouth, brewing bitterly on your awaiting tongue. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulses involuntarily in his hand as he lurches his high to an end.

‘You look so fucking good with my cum all over your face.’ Taehyung stares at his piece of work, splattered across your cheeks, on your forehead, and unfortunately for you, in your hair. Feral demeanour dimming, he leans down and gently smears his ejaculation all over your skin before nudging it into your mouth.

Like his good little baby you are, you swallow it like it’s your milk.

‘Mm…’ Throat hoarse from all the moaning, you suck his taste off his thumb.

Exhaustion dawns over the both of you when the adrenaline drains from your blood. Ache straining between your thighs, you waddle over to the bathroom quickly before him cum dries into a crusty nightmare.

Your sex-ridden, hair-dishevelled, hickey-speckled reflection greets you in the mirror. Realisation of your actions sink into your heart along with the sour taste of guilt.

What the fuck have you done?

You just had the wildest sex with Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you try to form back the logic shattered by his brutal fucking. Why do you have to be the way that you are? Just why are you so incapable of controlling your nymphomania?

‘You okay?’ Taehyung’s bass booms from the bedroom, startling you from your turmoil.

You gave into your temptations. You fucked up.

But this isn’t unsalvageable, you two can recover from it. After all, it’s not like you have been lifelong best friends, you’ve only just met each other, still stepping into deeper stages of your friendship day by day. As long as you don’t let this happen again, stop seeing him in a sexual light, you two should be fine.

Yes, you’ll be fine.

Drying your washed face with a towel, your answer is muffled. ‘Yep, all good.’

When you roam back to the room, you see him sprawled out like a Greek God, still shirtless but now wearing sweatpants that outlines his bulge all too well, bed sheets bunched to the side to aerate his sweat-dampened body. His eyes crawl over your naked form with a thirst that has you willing to drop to your knees and suck him off again. Spoilt in the attention he’s doling you, you climb beside him perhaps too seductively than you should.

Stop. You shouldn’t.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his chest and smother you with slow, passionate kisses. Such contradiction to his rough handling of you sheer minutes ago. His tongue feels heavier, nicer as it rolls along yours, maybe because you’re now sober, senses no longer dulled by alcohol.

It’s a difficulty to retract from his romantic poet of a mouth whose sole purpose is to entice you into its warm embrace. But you do. ‘Hey… We really shouldn’t have…’ You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence because you care too much for his feelings to hurt him.

But then the cool nonchalance in his pupils relieve you of your fear. ‘Yeah… Probably not the smartest move.’

His fingers toy fondly with your hair, twirling it like a velvet ribbon. Eyes wide with his boyish innocence, you wonder if this is the same person who was just slapping his dick on your cheek and made you call him daddy. This trip was meant to allow you to understand him better, yet you remain stuck, perhaps more than before, in his enigma.

And you wonder how his girlfriend could ever have sought after anyone else Taehyung is… Well he has just done that…

‘It doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still friends?’ You want to roll out of his clasp yet his arms feel so soft and smooth and perfect to fall asleep in.

‘Of course, Y/N’ From the earnesty in his tone, you know you can trust his word.

To resume your previous playful dynamic, you pinch his nose between your knuckles. ‘Then let go of me, friends don’t cuddle.’

‘Friends do cuddle.’ He frowns, shocked as if you’ve just slapped him across the face with a whole cabbage of kimchi.

‘Uh… No they don’t.’ Repulsed by such affection, you try to wiggle away but he locks his arms around your torso like a vice.

‘I don’t know what kind of friends you’ve had, but you’re stuck with me now and in Taehyung-land: Friends. Cuddle.’ Blowing raspberries on your ticklish neck, he lets you squirm like a fish in attempt to escape his coddling, chest rumbling into your back with laughter. Your squeals of help turn into giggles. Raspberries turn into kisses.

You freeze. ‘Oi, friends don’t kiss friends’ necks.’

‘Come on, we just had sex, let me just kiss you a bit more.’ Watching him pout so babily, your heart squeezes. Fuck. Why is your heart squeezing?

But you kiss his jutted lips, still. Savouring his taste that you know you won’t have the chance to delight in again. ‘Fine, but if you try to kiss me tomorrow, I’ll kick your nuts.’

Taehyung takes that as a green light to use you as a snuggle toy for the rest of the night, mouth gallivanting the ocean that is your skin.

07/09/18

@shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @taexxxiiaa @spring2787 @monixreal

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

Sins of the Past Pt.1

Storybrooke. Present. Night. (Working as a cab driver, a weary Henry Swan-Mills glances at his rear-view mirror at the kissing couple in his back seat. With the realms of story united, Henry's clientele is large and varied. From drunken Musketeers to sight-seeing visitors from the Land Without Colour, the former Author has driven them all in his cab.)

Swan-Mills House. Morning. (Descending the stairs, Regina is distressed by the various boxes that are strewn across the floor. Just as she is about to raise her voice however, Zelena walks into the hall, carrying baby Maria.) Zelena: "And here's your other Mama looking ready for business." Regina: (Smiling:) "How is she doing?" Zelena: "Just fine, now that her Aunty Zelena's here, isn't that right, Poppet?" Regina: (As her sister continues cooing at the baby:) "Thanks for coming, Zelena. My meeting this morning shouldn't take long." Zelena: "Oh don't worry about that, Maria and I are going to have a wonderful time, isn't that right?" (Shaking her head at her sister's infatuation, Regina turns to see Emma walking into the room looking slightly frazzled.) Emma: (Followed by Ella:) "Just give me five minutes to put on a new shirt and find my keys and we'll be outta here." (Stopping only to give her wife a quick kiss, Emma runs upstairs to go change.) Ella: (Calling after her:) "Thank you! (To Regina:) I’m sorry to put you guys out like this, I'd take the bus but-" Regina: (Cutting in:) "You can't risk being late for work again. (Smiles:) We know and it's absolutely fine. I'd drop you off myself but I'm headed in completely the other direction. (Glancing at her watch:) Speaking of which, I'd better go. (To Zelena:) You're sure you'll be all right?" Zelena: "Yes, now go! Maria and I have the whole day planned."

The Woods, Just Outside Storybrooke. (Will Scarlett travels quickly through the woods, clutching a stitch at his side but continuing to run at top speed.) Dun Broch. (Regina stands over the slain body of a unicorn, Queen Merida by her side.) Regina: "What were you thinking? Even in my darkest days, I could never kill a unicorn." Merida: "Me? This is not my doing. Unicorns are rare and mystical creatures. There is a legend that says bad fortune will come to anyone who slays one. Neither I or any of the men I command would be stupid enough to kill such a sacred animal." Regina: (Scoffs:) "You have too much faith in a man's intelligence. So, what do you expect me to do about it?" Merida: (Nods:) "I thought you could speak to him." (Confused, Regina turns to see a cloaked figure standing a short distance away.) Anhora: "Are you looking for me? I am Anhora, Keeper of the Unicorns." Merida: "Is it you who’s responsible for turning our water into sand?" Regina: “What?” Anhora: "You alone are responsible for the misfortune that has befallen Dun Broch." Merida: "Me?! You think I’d bring drought upon my own people?" Anhora: "When the unicorn was killed on your lands, a curse was unleashed. For this, Dun Broch will suffer greatly." Regina: (Stepping forward:) "Now wait a minute, I'm an expert on curses and I know they rarely, if ever, solve anything. Why don't you just lift the curse and we can all talk about this rationally for a moment." Anhora: "The curse was not my doing." Merida: (Drawing her sword:) "Undo the curse or you will pay with your life." Regina: (Chiding:) "Merida!" Anhora: "Only you can do that. You will be tested." Merida: "Me?" Regina: "You're the Queen, blame comes with the job." Anhora: "Until you have proven yourself, and made amends for killing the unicorn, the curse will not be lifted. If you fail any of these tests, Dun Broch will be damned for all eternity."

Storybrooke. Outside The Sheriff's Station. (Sitting in a squad car, Lily turns to her father who is joining her for a ride-along.) Lily: "Okay, are you ready for this?" Hook: "I was born ready." Lily: "Dad, I'm serious, this isn't going to be like your pirate adventures. Most days this job is about keeping the peace." Hook: (Smirks:) "Trust me, love, things might have been a bit quieter around here recently, but when magic’s around, there's always going to be trouble sooner or later." Main Street. (Ella sprints down main street, trying to get to work on time as Emma looks on from outside the Dark Star Pharmacy. Hoping her future daughter-in-law makes it, Emma turns and is knocked down by a still speeding Will Scarlett.) Emma: "Ahh! (Landing hard on the ground, she looks up to see Will barely give her a backwards glance before disappearing around the corner:) Yeah, you better run!"

(Wiping her hands, Emma hardly notices when her parents arrive beside her, rushing her her aid.) Snow White: "Emma, are you okay?" Emma: (Wincing:) "Yeah, I'm fine." David: "Here, let me help you. (Helping his daughter to her feet, concerned:) Are you sure you're all right." Emma: "Yeah, just a bruised ego is all. (Starts to walk:) Ow. And a bruised butt, I think." Snow White: "That really was quite the fall you took. We saw you as we were coming out of Granny's." Emma: "Well, that's what I'm here for. To protect, serve and amuse." David: "Emma-" Emma: (Sighs:) "I'm sorry, I don't mean to unload on you guys. It's... it's just been a stressful morning." David: "You know we're here to help anytime." Emma: (Nods:) "I know, thank you. (She hugs them both in turn. Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket:) Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get everything on this list and get home before Zelena paints Maria's bedroom green." Storybrooke Library. (Will stands expectantly as Belle looks over the book he's just returned.) Alice: (Pulling ten dollars from her pocket:) "You still don't get this until I'm satisfied." Will: (Grins:) "I know." Alice: (To Belle:) "So?" Belle: (Turning over a few pages:) "Well it hasn't exactly been returned in mint condition." Will: (Laughs:) "No offense ladies, but I'd challenge you to find one book in this entire building that'd fit that description." Belle: "Hm. And did you enjoy the book?" Will: "Oh, yes. Very much." Alice: (Sceptically:) "What was your favourite part?" Will: "Well, there was the beginning, the middle and the end." Alice: "What about the octopus, didn't you find that part scary?" Will: (Scoffs:) "Octopuses aren't scary - Kraken's are scary." Belle: (Smiles:) "There isn't an octopus in this book, Will." Alice: (Taking the ten dollars off the table:) "Ha!" Will: "Oh, come on! I still got the book back in time, so what if I didn't read it?" Alice: "Reading books is the whole point! I want you to broaden your horizons, lose yourself in an adventure." Will: "But we've both lived real adventures! Look, reading books is fine if you're locked up in a tower with no chance of escape, but there's no replacement for living life. In fact if you ask me, it's you two who should be broadening your horizons. (Backing out of the library:) Put the books down, girls. Let your hair down once in awhile, you'll thank me for it." (Belle and Alice smile at each other as Will leaves the Library.) Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack. (Sneaking in through the back door, Ella grabs her apron and ties it around her waist, attempting to start work without her boss realising how late she is. Taking a fresh pair of gloves from the box, Ella turns to find her boss standing in front of her.) Louis: "You're late. Again." Ella: "I ran here as fast as I could, but my-" Louis: "I don't give a crap! I'm paying you for 39 hours. (Another employee - Carl, drops a tray load of chicken on the floor:) Really, Carl? That's coming out of your paycheck." Ella: "Hey, Louis, lay off. It's just chicken. You don't need to be a jerk about it." Louis: (Puts down the cooking tongs:) "Apologize. Now! Or get out." Ella: "I can't, because it's true. You're a jerk." Louis: "You think you know me so well, huh? I know you. Former princess living with her prince boyfriend in his mother’s mansion. No real skills other than that temper. You need this job. This is the best you can do, and you know it. So, yeah, you're gonna apologize. Right?” Ella: “Never.” (Ella takes off her apron and storms out.)

Elsewhere In Storybrooke. (Placing a tray of dirty dishes down, Henry takes a moment to catch his breath.) Tiana: (Walking over to him:) "Henry, are you feeling okay? You look exhausted." Henry: (Forces a smile:) "I'm fine, just needed a second." Tiana: "I don't know, between your working two jobs and Ella working at the shack most nights-" Henry: "It'll be worth it when we've got our own place." (Henry picks up the tray and walks to the kitchen.) Tiana: (Following:) "Is there a rush on that? Emma and Regina can't be hurting for space. I've been to the Mayor's mansion and there's like thirty-seven rooms." Henry: "Ha-ha. There's not quite that many, but that's not even the point. My moms don't want me to leave but they've got Maria to look after now and... well there are other reasons." Tiana: "Such as?" Henry: (Begins placing dishes in the dishwasher:) "Such as wanting to carry Ella over the threshold of our own home? Such as being able to afford the wedding and honeymoon of her dreams?" Tiana: "Henry, you know Ella's not interested in those extravagant things." Henry: "But that doesn't mean she shouldn't be able to have them if she did." Tiana: "I'm impressed." Henry: "Thank you." Tiana: "I meant how you stacked the dishwasher. (She smiles and walks away, over her shoulder:) Very impressive." Dark Star Pharmacy. (Having gathered everything on her list, Emma is attempting to casually ask for Mr. Clark's professional opinion.) Emma: "What's your best cream for cuts and bruises?" Mr. Clark: (Scanning the items from Emma's basket:) "Depends on the type of injury and how bad it is." Emma: "Well I won't know how bad it is until I get home." Mr. Clark: "Then I can't help you." Emma: "Look, I'm not going to sue you for bad advice if that's what you're worried about. All I'm looking for is a good, effective cream." Mr. Clark: (Takes a sharp intake of breath:) "Again, I'd have to see the injury in question, just to be sure." Emma: "Trust me, that's not happening." Regina: (Entering the store:) "What injury? Is it Maria? Did Zelena call, is she hurt?" Emma: "No! No, it's nothing like that it's just... (Looks to Mr. Clark then back to Regina:) Delicate."

Mr. Clark: "If the injury is in a delicate area, I give you my word as a professional I would be happy to-" Emma: (Grabbing Sneezy by the shirt:) "I'm not pulling my ass out here in this store for you or anyone else, you got that? (Emma releases the man only to notice that he hasn't moved. Looking to Regina she sees that the brunette is using her magic to turn the store sign to 'closed' and drawing the steel blinds down:) Er, what are you doing?" Regina: "You're hurt. Show me." Emma: "Regina, it's nothing, I'm fine." Regina: "Show. Me." Emma: (Looking at a now frozen Mr. Clark:) "What about him?" Regina: (Considers:) "Let him be 'Sleepy' for awhile." (With a wave of her hand, Sneezy collapses behind the counter, fast asleep.) Emma: (Shaking her head, begins lifting her skirt and turns towards the counter:) "You'll take any excuse, won't you?" Regina: (Innocently:) "To care for my wife? Of course I will. (Hisses as the injured area is exposed:) Oh, Emma." Emma: "That bad, huh?" Regina: "It's definitely going to bruise." Emma: (Shrugs:) "I've had worse. (Stiffens when she feels Regina's hands on her hips:) So what now?" Regina: "Well I'll need to clean the affected area before treatment." Emma: (As her breath quickens:) "J-just make sure you do a thorough job." Regina: (Sliding to her knees, bringing Emma's skirt and underwear with her:) "Don't I always?" (Unable to answer, Emma merely closes her eyes and gasps as Regina gives her the due care and attention only she can provide.) Will & Tiana's Apartment. Storybrooke. (While cooking in the kitchen, Tiana smiles as she hears the door open.) Tiana: "Hey, sexy. Dinner's at- (Sees Ella standing there:) Whoa, whoa! What're you doing out of work so early?" Ella: (Simply:) "I quit." Tiana: "What?" Ella: (Jumps up to sit on the counter:) "You know, Louis, he's-" Tiana: "Yeah, I know what Louis is. He's what you grin and bear so that the singles in your savings jar don't get lonely." Ella: "I'll figure something out." Tiana: "What's Henry gonna say? You know, he's already out there working two jobs. So now-" Ella: "I know, I know, but hey, who's side are you on? You think I should work for that bully all my life?" Tiana: "Of course not. I just see how hard Henry's working and-" Ella: "Oh, way to make me feel so much better." Tiana: "You're right, I'm sorry. Wanna stay for dinner?" Ella: "No, that's okay." Tiana: "Drinks?" Ella: "Oh god, yes." Tiana: (Laughs:) "Then get your butt off my counter and pour the wine." Ella: (Salutes:) "Yes, Ma'am." Swan-Mills House. Night Time. (Emma lays on her stomach on the bed, Maria gurgling contentedly beside her. Regina enters from the bathroom, a tub of cream in her hand.) Regina: "There they are, my two favourite girls." Emma: "This is so embarrassing." Regina: (Smiling:) "Oh hush, you don't hear Maria complaining." (Emma turns her attention to her daughter while Regina applies the cream to her exposed backside.) Emma: "Isn't there a spell that can heal this sort of thing?" Regina: "Do you know of one?" Emma: "No. Do you? (Silence:) Regina?" Regina: (A long pause:) "Now where would be the fun in that?" Emma: "I knew it!"

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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kyleknight · 4 years

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Claws and Teeth

October Writing Challenge Day 1 project: fencing club joesten au content: joe jonas/awsten knight, supernatural elements, high school warnings: panic attack, flashbacks to physical body trauma/serious injuries an: finally, after a long wait, I have written joesten. unfortunately its a tad angsty. or like. hurt/comfort. if you’ve read stuff for this au before, this is more in the future of the plot

“I’m not even supposed to be talking to you, you know,” Awsten says. “Mister Big Bad Scary Supernatural Hunter.” There’s nothing but playfulness in his tone. He’s leaned up against Joe’s side, giggling to himself every few seconds about whatever’s going on in his head. Out here on the edge of town, the moon is bright enough to light the road, and Joe can see more stars than he’s seen in months. It feels healing, walking along the road here.

Being here with Awsten just makes it all even better.

“That’s your own rule, isn’t it?” Joe says, poking Awsten in the stomach and making him shriek. “You’re the boss around here. Or like, you’re like the future Wolf CEO. You can just change that.”

Awsten scoffs. “I definitely can. But will I? Maybe I like that rule. And maybe I like how I’m breaking it.”

“Aw, so you’re a criminal,” Joe says. “Is that your kink?”

Awsten cackles. “I can’t give my secrets away so easily, Joe. You’re going to have to try harder than that to interrogate me.”

Joe grins and grabs Awsten around the middle. He whispers quietly into Awsten’s ear, “You’re under arrest.”

“Oh my god,” Awsten says, squirming and laughing.

“For fraternizing with the enemy, going on ice cream dates with him, fencing with him but in the flirting kind of way, and making him feel butterflies in his stomach whenever he sees you.” Joe says, not letting Awsten go. Obviously, Awsten could shake him off easily if he wanted to, but all he does is wriggle around.

“You’re the worst, oh my god,” Awsten says. “You’re under arrest too, for being so cheesy I’m gonna turn lactose intolerant.”

“That’s fine, you get me instead of lactose.”

“But that means no more ice cream dates,” Awsten points out. Joe lets him go.

“Well, if it’s for the sake of more ice cream in the future…” he says.

Awsten turns around to look at him, a bright grin across his face and the moonlight shining in his eyes. Joe’s chest swells at the sight.

But then Awsten’s smile disappears. His eyes widen and his hands move to grab onto Joe’s arms. In a second, Awsten manhandles Joe so he’s behind him. Joe stumbles at the sudden change of position (and the shift in the mood, too).

When he manages to orient himself again, he realizes why.

Crouched only yards away from them is a figure straight out of Joe’s nightmares.

A dragon.

Panic grips Joe and he stumbles over his own legs. He needs to get out of here. His mind is screaming in fear. He needs to. Awsten. Joe swipes his right arm out towards Awsten, trying and failing to grab the other’s shirt. To pull him back. They need to run.

“Run,” Joe chokes out. “Awsten, we need to run.”

“What—” Awsten whispers.

Joe is shaking and he’s so fucking terrified. He wants to cry. But Awsten is here and Joe can’t let him get hurt. Not like how Joe got hurt, nearly a whole year ago. He needs to run, but he also needs to help Awsten. He needs to protect him.

The dragon raises its head. It’s a dull sandy color, and it probably blends in with the dry landscape behind it. A sand dragon then. Joe’s never seen a sand dragon before, but he’s studied all of the common varieties and he’s had encounters with some of them . The old, massive river dragon, which over a dozen experienced hunters had to band together to take down. The juvenile coal dragon, which their parents dealt with, but showed Joe and his brothers the carcass afterwards. The swamp dragon that—

“We need to run,” Joe says again. “We can’t fight that.”

“You stay back,” Awsten says. “I just need to shift and I’ll make it back off.” He doesn’t sound confident.

Joe grits his teeth and grabs Awsten’s hand tightly. “Listen,” he whispers. “You can’t— those things are way too dangerous. I don’t know if we can outrun—” he freezes as the sand dragon takes another step closer.

It’s on the road now, its claws making a terrifying tapping noise against the pavement. Its mouth opens up, showing off rows of long sharp teeth. Teeth that can— Joe shudders and clings tighter to Awsten.

“No, no, no,” he says, half sobbing. “Awsten please. We need to run.”

Awsten looks back over his shoulder at Joe. His lips are pressed together for a moment. Then he nods, a tiny movement but a noticeable one. “Okay. I’m gonna pick you up. Got it?”

Joe doesn’t have a chance to answer before Awsten is moving. He’s scooped up into Awsten’s arms in a bridal carry and several long bounds away in what feels like a fraction of a second. Joe puts his arms around Awsten’s neck and looks backwards. The dragon is following after them, of course. It’s horrifyingly nightmarish, with its head lowered and its body weaving back and forth like a snake. Its tail whips behind it. Joe remembers how the swamp dragon so easily split a metal boat in half with its tail. He shrinks against Awsten, who is somehow running at his fucking impossible sprinting speed while carrying Joe.

He’s amazing.

Hopefully it’ll be enough to evade the dragon.

The dragon is rapidly gaining on them, though.

“It’s getting closer,” Joe says. “Awsten!”

“Hang on!” Awsten says. He moves even faster in some unbelievable burst of speed. Joe looks forward, hoping Awsten is heading towards some kind of shelter. There’s the gas station, its emptiness illuminated by yellowing fluorescent lights. Joe breathes in sharply, then looks back at the dragon.

It’s stopped moving. It’s still watching them, standing in the middle of the road, menacing as a tank. Joe shivers again.

Awsten runs with him all the way up to the door. He pauses only a brief second to open it, and then they’re inside. There’s a tired looking cashier lounging in a chair behind the counter who looks at them curiously.

Joe slides out of Awsten’s arms and sinks to the floor, shaking. “Oh my god, oh my god, we’re alive,” he cries.

Awsten sits down on the floor with Joe. “Mari,” he says. “Can you get ahold of Mrs. Rocha? Just let her know I need a car out here.” Joe barely notices the cashier nodding and walking away before Awsten’s right in front of him, pulling him close and rubbing Joe’s back comfortingly.

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s out there and we’re in here. You’re safe.”

Joe knows he’s breaking down, and he’s a little humiliated that it’s happening in front of Awsten, but he’s so overwhelmed that he mostly just wants Awsten to keep holding him. He almost got killed by a dragon. For the second time in his life. He just wants to cry and be thankful that he’s still alive.

“I’m such a failure,” he says into Awsten’s shirt, unable to make eye contact. “A year ago, I was a failure, and I’m still a failure now.”

“It’s okay,” Awsten says. “You’re not a failure. You helped me. You were right, there was no way I could have faced off against that. Joe, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

“Awsten,” Joe cries. He feels so weak and pathetic. It doesn’t matter how much physical therapy he’s gone through. It doesn’t matter how much he teaches himself to fight with his left hand. He’s too scared now. He’ll never fight again. He’ll never be able to protect anyone, especially not himself. He closes his eyes and all he can see is the swamp dragon’s jaws snapping at his arm. The splashing water everywhere, painted red with Joe’s own blood. The horrible mangled remains of his arm after the dragon let go of it, which Joe thinks of every time he sees the scars and the warped, lumpy skin.

“Shh,” Awsten says. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen to us.” Quietly, he says. “Mari, do you see anything outside? On the cameras?”

A moment later, the cashier responds in the negative. “What am I looking for?” she asks. “Rogue wolf? Stalker? Or something worse?”

Awsten’s arms wrap around Joe, and Joe can’t help but lean closer in. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel safe again, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to get eaten immediately right here and now.

“A sand dragon,” Awsten says.

#fencing club joesten au #mani playing with words

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huadie · 3 years

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anchor liveblog post.

the curse of prophecy: all of my high tier kins channel tmg.

" somebody’s gonna get hurt / i hope it’s not me / but i suspect it’s going to have to be.

---

episodes 1-3: the general doesn't deserve the sympathy he gets. i'm not excusing a woman who killed happy girls on their wedding days, but i do think he owed her that closure. sending his son just pits the burden onto someone who wasn't involved. he should look his failures and mistakes in the eyes. if you can't count on a god to do that, who can you expect it of? it's disgusting. / i feel so tired and sorry for the girl who died saving a man who hated her and hurt her friend. i don't think kind people should be on the hook for ignorance and spite so willingly. her life for his was an unfair trade. / He's Cute. and wildly unexpectedly gentle considering the whole "demon" thing. / b tells me i'll have kin ptsd about the face disorder, but right now it's just heartbreaking. nobody deserves to live with that kind of fear. nobody deserves to live with that kind of pain. / b also implies someone in heaven is doing it to them for fun and i just want to say right now that i'm going to pull his dick off thru his mouth. that's a tier of evil that should have your blood start boiling inside you in an attempt to disinfect it. that was a child. that was just a scared little boy. not a prop or a toy or a plot device. a child. / i like the baby generals. they are so nineteen but it's nice to see it. i know anime leans on comedy skits a lot, but they can carry it off. they're charming. / heaven looks a bit shit. all of that meditation and betterment and it just makes you a spineless politician with the power to airbend? christ on a bike.

---

episode 4-5: initial reactions. watching him swing between fuck-me eyes and genuine emotional distress at no signal i can see is a lot. he's a good painter. i think i get the gist of where he's coming from but it feels insane to me. the twitch duels were cute. he clearly cares a lot more than he enjoys devilry so it's insane to me that he's that strong. general jr destroys me. imagine being so pompous and negligent you'd give your child your name. has he ever been allowed to be his own person? meow meow etc. the face disease is horrific. he was just a kid. he was so scared and in pain. i like the temple. i like that it's raggedy and messy. maybe it should be over-repaired, so people in need can take from it? it's definitely not very reverant, but. gods should serve their people. quotes all of small gods here etc. they should want to serve their people. they should be happy to see their temples valued below human life. it would be nice to live in a ghibli film forever, and read books and cook warm food and paint.

episodes ???. thoughts said out loud. gods own their people. thousands, one, here and now you are alive. gods are owned by their people. it's a cage. it's the most beautiful cage possible. to feed starving people from your hands. the bread and the fishes cut out of you. to give and give and give, to be asked for things you have never had and give them next. each prayer should strip you to the bone. can you imagine? to be so trusted, so cared for, so beloved, so followed, to have so much given to you freely and happily. a live lived to save others is the only beautiful thing. the only beautiful thing! a god should be owned by each of their believers individually. selfishly and shallowly and demandingly. like a child needs you. the power to put a fish back in the water is a blessing so heavy thinking about being created for it should make you wail. to be - for people, for the birds and the trees and the fish too, but for the people. it should break your heart. you should never let it become monotone. sunlight into wine.

on love: i trust b. i trust b. to love him here like this and love him in this skin and then find him again in a book and on a screen and fall in love with him there too, to watch myself fall in love with him too. nobody has ever earned what he freely gives. i want to give it back. oxygen to dioxide, i want to find all the places he stands and pour it back into him. i want to show him how beautiful he is. to love someone like that is a miracle and i want to pull it apart. i want to make him familiar with me and bored of me, i want him to wake up each morning taking me for granted, i want him to be so safe and secure in his place in my heart that it stops being a gift. that it wears down and falls apart. the velveteen rabbit. i want to hold him in my hands like a bubble that hasn't popped and i want to use him like the doorway to a world where even if i had to hurt and be hurt and fall and learn to grow, i can come home at the end of it. my growth can mean something, my stronger back can bear more weight, my lessons can be shared. i want it to mean something. i want to have faith in myself again. in the resurrected kingdom of his arms i can find it - build it. i can come home. it can have turned to gold while i did not see it. it can have worth, i can have worth, i can bend and not break. i can have a claim on things without losing them, without it cursing them. just him. i'm not greedy, i'm not selfish, so please - just him.

episode 6: there's something that hurts about letting other people see what you'll tolerate. what you'll do. the places in your life where you have pathetic history and where you are attempting to be someone who only existed today grinding against one another. i know he knows. i know it isn't a stolen moment, a chance to decide how i exist to someone before they decide it for me. i sleep beneath that painting and whenever i wake up in the night i feel him pretend that he is asleep. i know. i know. but it could have - it could have been. it could have been a lie that i got to play with. a tiny self indulgence. aren't you tired of stars? aren't you tired of being the tree that cannot bend in a storm? of holding yourself down? everyone else does it so easily. everyone else lets go. everyone else knows how. if i can't learn then i want to pretend. i want to be unwanted, and - and meet people. by chance, just chance, and like them and have them like me. no promises i made before i learned i couldn't keep them. just... something smaller. i talked about multiverse theory. how it isn't in the coin flip, but the atoms of the coin. how in one dot you can know everything. every grain of sand in a desert. i cannot survive existing with people thinking of me. not well and not poorly. i want to disappear into it. maybe nobody else is obligated to finish the work. maybe their contributions are a blessing. but i can't... learn how to let it go. it's all i have left in me that i recognize, somedays, as it gathers dust and makes me sick to breathe around. what am i if i am not that? i want to know. i'm scared to know. i will never be allowed to find out.

on being loved: god. it is too much. i don't hate it. it doesn't disgust me. but i feel like a plate being washed in every inch of the sea before i am allowed to see dry land again. i feel like i won't survive it if i look at it because it is a mosque decorated in mirrors, because it is mathematically perfect, because it holds the tiny miracles of angles and existence and light on par with the miracles of human heart and existence, because to make at all is to change the world for the first time, because i do not want to see what it reflects. i do not want to see it. i would be better if it lied to itself, if it was delusional and selfish and obsessed with smoke tricks. if it saw silk and paint and stopped looking. i don't want to know what i look like with my hair down, with my face clean, with my feet dirty, with my hands raw - i don't want to see what it sees to know that it loves there too. i don't want to follow it. i don't know how to make it stop. how could i - how could anyone be held accountable for this? to this? to prayers and plans and a kindness that changes the world in every grain of sand it has and again the next second, how could anything be worth this? and if it could - it couldn't be me. not a collection of stupid wishes and failures and betrayals-by-failure. not me with my hair down. silk could be worth this.

on being loved now that it isn't the middle of the night, and my body isn't betraying us both, and i can remember that there are an infinite number of steps between 0 and 1: but really, it's just ink. just paper. if it's - if he. if it's everything. if it's everything. then it can be one thing. it can be this thing. it can be the blindness. it can be me with my own hands over my own eyes like a shutterbox pretending i don't know how to see myself and admit that the pea beneath my mattress only hurts me - that it's small, to him, that it isn't sharp, that it's a phantom limb i can't stop being tormented by and only ever that. can that be enough to start? can i let it? it's atoms again. grains of sand. if he can love this, he can love everything. if i can see this, the rest falls away. there are more universes where we are kissing than every atom from the start to the end of time. that's how it works. i'm going in circles. you don't mind, do you? i'm writing this for you. you're the only person reading this. i don't know why i'm being impersonal about you when i'm being possessive about me. it won't protect me. it won't make it less terrifying to think of, and it won't make it less painful for you to read. i know you're already mad at yourself for being too much. for making me think that it's too much. you're kind to me like that, even when things are my fault. but if we can sit here together, and i can know that you know i can't imagine being loved, and that that - that moment, that dot, me unable to count to the place where numbers end - is something you love too. if i can just see this one moment, and not doubt it or question it or be afraid of it. it can be enough. because you know how hard i'm working to get to even this first step. you know how hard i'm working. you know how scared i am. you know it isn't you. you'll wait for me, with me, and you won't hate me for it. you promised.

on being forgiven: i don't know how to do it for myself. i don't know how to blame people for what they do to me unless it's the most extreme circumstance. i forgive too much that shouldn't be and hold ignorance and spite against others long past when it's fair. i handwave any scar someone gave me while they were suffering and never let go of what they do to others. i don't know what makes it different when it's me. i guess i know how to forgive myself for being scared and lost and for making bad decisions under the influence of... whatever... but not lazy cruelty. not letting something bad happen because i felt like it. all i do now is watch. all i do is let things slide past me again and again and again and do nothing to help and it can't matter that my heart breaks about it when theirs don't if none of us get up, and i remind myself that small steps do more than a single leap that uses me up but it's so hard to believe that here and now in the world where i could die if i tried again and harder still to comprehend in a world where 800 years of lives were made and suffered through and lost and i did nothing that matters to help. maybe all of the horrible backstory parts you're so scared of me seeing will be ones where i could do something, where i could climb up and let everyone take a raw bite out of me and go without starving for just one day, and then this won't cut me up inside like i swallowed a hedgehog. some days i am the hedgehog. trapped inside me, unable to stop being something that cuts to have there, unable to get away. i don't know how you can forgive me. i don't even know if you know what i need forgiving for. if i apologize for saving your life - for coming back to you again and again and again and being so selfish and. i don't know. for being me, while you try to love me, instead of being the person i can't forgive myself for not being, who deserves to be loved by you like this. but you'll forgive me. how do you do it? how do you stand it? i'm jealous of you. of how easy your heart warms up. of how kind you are.

kosmi 1-6 rewatch: i dislike pei su less now that i can see him as a person with a horrific job and less as a vehicle for the lies i know pei ming told about every woman he ever used and threw away. "i burned the scroll and won the war on my own" yeah right. gotta get that out first before i start collecting my thoughts. um.

one: the ascention, the earthquakes, (all that fuss for a scrap god. you told me the order it went in, when i asked, and i still think it's funny in a way that validates what i've been saying for something only the most in-need ask for help with to rattle the bells from warlord's palaces. they aren't ignorable. more than - more than anything else, anything before, i can be proud of this. i can be proud of myself for this.) i hate the way people look at you like you're infected with something because they can't play pretend that their inaction isn't malice any more. the bets and jokes and sneers. what have you done, lately? what help have you given? what good are you? and then there's me: starting as ever in unfixable debt, anchoring desperately to simple kindnesses, too tired to do more than smile. it's not worth it. it's never worth it. (being loved and losing it is worse than never knowing. being able to love yourself and losing it is worse than that.) the way that heaven sits unfixable and unchanging and incompetent. i'm proud of them for making something of their futures. i am. i don't begrudge them anything. i trust their character and i trust them to try to do the right thing for the people. i'm glad they didn't fight hua cheng. the kids are sweet. they're little carbon copies of their generals. it's sweet. it's kind. i like how... okay, they're mean and short tempered and fight like cats in a bag, but it's just the way you are at that age. it's not personal. it's easier to stand. i know there's gender coding tm in the novel, but i hate man-in-a-dress gags that point out that the man looks bad in a dress. i thought it was fine.

one point five: ok. i'll talk about it. the butterflies on the dress, the gentle music, the way our colours matched, the way your hand felt in mine. the sound of rain. i didn't know people could be so gentle. i didn't know they knew how. i think it was better for my health, before, when i assumed the best i ever saw was the best people were capable of. worse for me, though, to believe that. i'd forgotten what it was like to see myself in someone else's eyes as welcome.

zero point five: flashback sequence goes here. of course i remember what it was like to be loved, and work towards a clear goal that helped people. of course i remember what it was like to have a home that loved me back. he looked so scared as he fell. he looked terrified. i don't... i'm not good. at hating people. when i know everyone is driven to where they arrive in some degree or other. but that - whatever the reason they think they had, it isn't enough. it couldn't ever be enough. i hate seeing the human face disease. i hate how scared they are. how obviously in pain they are. i know they can't have survived. but i wish they could. i would give anything if they could. i would give anything up for it. have i talked about responsibility enough that this isn't a surprise yet? nobody should be that scared. nobody should suffer who hasn't chosen it to protect others. nobody should have to choose it, either, but if heaven has already failed you -

two: i hate that bald man. i hate watching that poor freckled girl throw herself on him again and again to save him just because he's human, while he takes every turn to re-learn hate and jealousy and hurt others. when he talks to his friends he almost humanizes himself, and i hope the time he spends as a crab fixes the rest. i truly do. but god i hate to see it. i hate being unable to do anything, because she chose it, because she knows him more than me, because her heart is kind enough to reach out to him even as it betrays and abandons the people in-need who can only go to her for help. you have to triage need. a life lived with the intent to harm others cannot come before a life lived with the intent to help, or to simply survive. anyway. the concern i get shown whenever i talk about the butterfly ghost is so charming.

three: i hate pei ming. his story is shallow and self-praising, his jilted lover competent and proud before he cured her of that with a kiss. i don't believe she broke her legs. i don't believe he passed over the chance to shortcut his way into glory. am i supposed to believe women just act like that? they just break their own knees for attention? she destroyed herself for him and he can't even pretend to care. not even at the end. not even to lie, and let her move on. so, what? thirteen girls die terrified and alone on the happiest day of their lives (- and we know it was happy for them, we know they went smiling up the path, we know they were excited) because he didn't have the stamnia to apologise to one person he hurt? i hate him. i hate his name, i hate his family, i hate his legacy of butchers, i hate his cowardice in sending pei su to grind out his cover story and then hide his mistakes where he doesn't have to look. i hate him. / i feel. so bad for that boy. he was so scared. do you know how scared you have to be to take scissors to yourself? i do. i have, literally, in the last year, actually. and that was... one cut. to avoid the risk of infection. sleeping on a wound that screams at you? he was a child. he was just a child. i let him down. there's no excuse. he needed reassurance. he needed protecting. i let him down.

four: i like that shrine. i like making it, owning it, doing something meaningful. i think a shrine for scrap should be made of more materials than it needs. i think it should be a place to sleep, always, and a place to eat, and you should be able to strip the roof if you need to. i don't care about what is proper, or respectful. respect the god of scavenger birds by surviving at any cost. by using what is useful. by taking what is free. i can build it again. if i know - if i can believe one good thing about myself, it's that i can build it again. as many times as it takes. i won't wear out. i won't give up. i can build it again. and how lucky, this time, to have help. there are so many things i can't do, even now. i need to learn. i never even thought about it until i saw that door. too long alone in my own head. too many years spent without it feeling worth the effort when a band-aid would hold.

four point five: again, ok, fine. i'll talk about it. you're beautiful. your eyes are like starlight, your smile is the warmest thing i've ever seen, your hands should be buried in an instrument, your painting is beautiful, your laugh is endearing - what do you want from me, here? of course i was looking. it's different to look now with your hand in mine than it was, then, to look just to look. to count threads just to count. to run my fingers through your hair and across your palm just to touch something. of course i knew. who wouldn't know you? who couldn't tell? but then, what was i going to do? know it? say it? ask things? better to be stupid, and naive, and find out what knife is waiting for me when it happens. i'm tired of speeding through the sweet moments to get to the next blade. i'm tired of being pushed from place to place. i'm tired of being alone. wasn't it fun? didn't we have fun? didn't you like talking together and cooking together and waking up in the morning in an empty shrine with the promise of another day to fill it? do i have to scream and shout and be suspicious and accuse you of - what! of holding my hand? of helping me? of being the exact same as everyone in heaven still deigning to look at me and thinking of me only as a tool to an end in a plan that will hurt people who did nothing wrong but pray? what can the harvest hope for if not the care of the reaper man? if it's - it always hurts. it always hurts. if it's going to hurt. why shouldn't it be kind first? why shouldn't i play stupid and keep you close and be usable without a heart left in me to break? why shouldn't i enjoy it for what it is, if it's all a lie? better me than someone who would be hurt by it. you're smart, and easy to talk to, and you're helping. you can't unbuild that door. unsweep the entryway. you can't undo the physical evidence of when you were kind. that's enough. that's all i can ever ask of people.

four point now: yes i know you wouldn't, now, i know you now, i don't need to gamble. i know you'd build a thousand doors. i know there's no trick. i know that it's safe. i know that i could have accused you and screamed and bit you and nothing would have made a difference and you still would have been kind. i know. i promise i know. i just... have to say where it was before. i have to tell you how important that kindness was, and how much i was willing to be kind to my own self to keep it near me. you understand what i mean, right? the tiny unforgivable act of making a mistake that could only hurt me? i know, i know. cocky to assume it would just be me hurt. but - if i was right to hope for nothing, i would make sure of that. i would make sure of it. i would do what i needed to to make sure only i was hurt for my selfishness.

five: i hate that we built a shrine and the next day something like that waltzed in. now we have to clean again. (i said in the stream, how funny it was to run that only survivor scam, how quickly it falls apart if you've ever seen real suffering, if you know what a survival rate is.) the rest i don't remember. i like working as a team. i like how much the kids hate you. they can tell too. i don't know what they see. but they worry about me. why do they worry so much? do their generals have something invested in me? are they just trying to do what they can now, and my caring for them isn't a one-way road? do you look that sketchy?

six: talking about the plot? in a sandstorm? no. you should keep my hat on. you look so sweet and cute and shy in it. i love the way you crumple when you aren't at the wheel, when an interaction happens without your instigation. maybe i'm not the only one bad at taking kindness. maybe i should offer it to you more often. you smell nice. like hot clay and silk. it's subtle. is that a ghost king thing, or is it just you? i like it. i can't imagine what i smell like. i hope... lillies and cotton. something soft. i'll ask you one day. i'm not surprised you were the most solid thing in a storm. i won't be surprised if you keep being that. i should have let you catch me. i should have dragged you with me. are you immune to it? could you stop it? would you pretend to be as useless and helpless as i am? i want to keep putting you in situations in disguise just to see what you do. it's fun! it probably shouldn't be, and i'm sure i'm setting myself up for a public shriving the more it becomes obvious who you are and how much i depend on you, but. i don't care. if i suffer for it, so what? what difference will that make? what could one more condemnation possibly do?

six point five: i like seeing sqx. i still read that as squeeks. i like seeing squeeks. i like sharing this with teddy. i like knowing that the way we are together can translate to here. i like how kind he is to me, and how funny, and sweet. i want to see him be happy. i want to see him be happy even though i know enough to infer it won't last. i know you love me with the power of a thousand angry wasp queens but it's nice to just sit next to him and joke with him and pretend for a little bit that i got to do this all the time. that i spent all my years drinking honey and rosewater and laughing with him, that things were as kind and easy as they're allowed to be. it's cute when i say he has a moral code and he gets offended. it's cute when i say he's a bitch and he gets offended. i like the way it makes all three of us laugh. i like seeing a place in my heaven where you could be. i don't want you to give up what you built. you built it because you had to. but when i'm sitting with my head on his shoulder, it's a window to that place where heaven exists to help people, where none of us ever had to learn what misery really was.

what power obliges from you: action. movement, always. there is no down time, no sleep, no rest, no running. if you seek people out to rule them - and that is what ascention is, seeking to rule, to tie your survival to your treatment of them - then you cannot do it with force and with ignorance and with the desire to coast. like. i'm not stupid. i know men do. for centuries and centuries with no repercussions, until the king on the rope for his people is as far related to the man who razed their lands as i am, (but inheriting evil is a choice too). i know how easy it is to punish and hurt and demand. how easy it is to hold people for ransom. but that isn't... that isn't power. that isn't kinghood or godhood or divine right. it's worthless. it's the other end of a sword. it kills you both to use. there's no light left in the world, no wonder, no chance to be saved by others so long as you are the thing that keeps you both drowning. you should wake up in the middle of the night for them without being asked. you should bleed for them without being asked. you should be ready to die for them without them ever knowing. even at their worst. at their most entitled, afraid, undignified, ignorant - if they are those things, the blame falls on you. if you are voted in democratically or born to the monarchy and not hanged in the streets it is the same either way: the people have chosen, they are asking you for something, and if you live in their gold and silk and sing their songs instead of smashing your own head in with a rock then you have agreed to the terms. why would anyone be unwilling to do that? afraid to do that? if you can do even a little bit more than someone else they are owed half of the excess. you cannot live in the world alone. you must not live in the world alone. ask the people above you to bleed for you and the people below you for nothing. there is no hierarchy beyond "i can help you" and "please help me" and there is no meaning beyond it either. every day it is hard to remember this but you have to, both parts, without losing either. why wouldn't anyone want this? what else is there to strive for but to better help others, to be someone with an abundance to share, to be used like that for the survival of everyone. isn't that happiness? to be as connected to everyone around you as a river is? to give water and fruit and blessings and promises and safety and shelter? you can seek power without understanding that it is only deeper service, but you will never do anything worthwhile with it. the gold will rot with your corpse. we find immortality in one another, and the celebration of giving more.

???: i saw a video of someone opening their back gate onto a meadow of the same single flower. it was beautiful. that's what it feels like when i catch you looking at me. we could grow flowers, couldn't we? we could plan a garden? i don't want to see myself fall and fail twice at least, or fight a war, without something kind at the end. i want you to tell me there's a way to still be like this - repairing doors, eating small meals, sleeping in warm air - after all of that is done. i want to build something selfish and self-sufficient together. i know we already are. in the things we talk about the jokes we make at my own expense whenever further plot implies at me. and in how excited i was to find out that the word for butterfly was this one. but i want to make things with our hands again.

episode 7: well. i'm glad it was me.

episode 7 (a day later): i'm still glad it was me. i'm proud of the kids for how brave they are, proud of that general for saving lives every time - and god, it was so funny sitting there in a circle of contempt for him, touching a gravestone people had hand cut and hauled up the mountain and carefully ingraved with their thanks, thinking about how loved and how much gratitude he must have died surrounded by. thank you for making them treat it with respect. thank you. he did his best. i'm almost jealous of it. imagine how nice it would be to help people, and have them see that you helped them, and be happy about it, and think kindly of you. i'm glad that you understood how important his actions were. i feel less alone when you're beside me on matters like that. anyway - i'm glad it was me. you're so bad at letting people care for you. i can tell you've been alone with only yourself to depend on for a long time. but your heart is so soft, you know? you don't even know it. you deserve to be protected. to be with people who want to protect you. it doesn't matter if you could have caught it in time, or survived a bite if you didn't - you should be able to think of yourself as precious to others. to me. i don't want to see you hurt. i don't ever want to take your hard-won strengths for granted. on the last day of earth, i want to move between you and danger as quickly and without apology as i did then. you're so easy to care for. do you know? and i'll be okay. i know you blame yourself for it because you said, because you're never gentle with yourself the way you are with me. but if you hadn't been there, i'm sure i would have stepped between someone else and that bite. i'm sure i would have forgotten again to grab the stinger i was just warning everyone about. you know what would change? if you hadn't been there, if you'd been a bit faster with your own defense, "if" "if" "if" - ? i wouldn't know there was a cure. i wouldn't know where to look for it, or be able to depend on someone helping me find it. that's the difference you made by being there. that's the only influence you had on me that day. you keep giving me the chance to survive my own mistakes. thank you. i can't promise we won't end up here again. i can't promise i won't keep trying to protect you. all i can do is hope that you know i don't mean it as a slight on your capabilities (it isn't! i just care about you. even the strongest man alive should be loved by people who want to shield him from danger) and that you don't get tired of me being so reckless.

#anchor.

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nadja-chamack16 · 4 years

Text

Side With The Height

Authors note: lmao I was supposed to post this basically years ago :/ (more like a month ago) but I got so self conscious about it and wasn't going to finish it... so before I regret posting this lol just know I had fun writing and there are probably grammar mistakes. I truly don’t know if this is going to be a chaptered thing but enjoy anyway! If you have any questions please let me know! and if you wanna be tagged for some reason let me know(?)

words: 3861

pairings: Eventual prinxiety, eventual logicality, Platonic demus

summary: Virgil wakes up in washington heights, the place where he's lived as long as he can remember. He goes through his usual day and we see a glimpse into his mind.

warnings: A lot of Spanglish (mix in between Spanish and English) is used, let me know if I missed anything

“ Lights up on Washington Heights”

Up at the break of day ”

Virgil woke up a tad bit late, which mind you was something very rare, still on time to open the bodega though he was almost always the first one up anyway. Watching the Barrio wake up after he was wide awake and ready to start his day, it made him feel like he was seeing the world from an outsider perspective but for once being the outsider was something good.

“ I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away ”

He walked towards the bodega, one of the few things he still had from his parents and- Wait is that Remus? wait wait wait- is he about to spray paint the bodega?! His internal monologue was rudely interrupted, He bolted towards Remus, “what are the fuck are you doing?!” Remus wasn't a genius, but he could definitely tell that Virgil was pissed and he decide his best option was to run off to god knows where, he was a little worried that Virgil would run after him, but he still tried to look calm while leaving but was definitely failing miserably.

“ Pop the grate at the crack of dawn ”

Virgil knew how Remus was, he and Dee hung out a lot, (if it were up to Virgil he most definitely would not be, but he can’t monitor Dee all the time) But he never thought Remus would ever dare try to spray paint the bodega! “I guess you can’t trust people” he said under his breath while pulling up the metal grate covering his corner store.

“ Sing while I wipe down the awning

Hey y'all good morning ”

Virgil saw the piraguero, Emile, and had a short conversation with him. “Ice cold piragua. Parcha, china, cherry, strawberry, and just for today I got Mamey!” Emile said, he said it every morning so Virgil had most of it memorized by then and mouthed the words as he said them, “Oye piraguero Como esta? " Virgil asked, he didn't personally like small talk, but there was a few exceptions, “Como siempre señor Virgilio!” Emile winked. Virgil didn't hate his name or anything, his parents gave it to him and it had a story behind it, he just liked its “translation” into English a little better, when he was a kid, a few of his classmates had issues saying his name, and he didn't really like that, so he decided to use the name one of his teachers called him. He entered the store relaxed and involuntarily continued his internal monologue. Virgil enjoyed singing...when he was alone in the bodega...at an ungodly hour... before everyone was awake and bustling through the door, before anyone could judge him really, but deep down he knew nobody here would ever do that, everyone around him either saw him growing up or grew up with him, but anxiety won't stop pestering will it?

“ I am Usnavi and you prob'ly never heard my name

Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated

Exacerbated by the fact that my syntax is highly complicated cause

I emigrated from the single greatest little place in the Caribbean

Dominican-

Republic ”

It didn't matter that Virgil was from this small tropical island in the Caribbean he still probably was the palest person in the barrio, and you couldn't really blame him, he was always working, trying to make ends meet, so he almost never went out, plus he moved to the barrio when he was a child, so he never got to really experience that Dominican heat, and those stunning sun beams crashing over one's skin through the palm trees while feeling the sand as he walked through one of its many beaches- anyway...he’s always lived in the barrio so, it’s not like he doesn’t have his culture with him, since there are other Latinos all around him, but he wants to one day experience all these things and not just day dream about experiencing his country with the only reference of that majestic place being stories Abuela had told him.

“ I love it

Jesus, I'm jealous of it

And beyond that

Ever since my folks passed on I haven't gone back

Goddamn,

I gotta get home then ”

In case you hadn’t noticed, Virgil Loved his country and culture very dearly, and he took pride in it, sometimes when Abuela Carmen told him stories about his home country, he got a weird feeling, He was most definitely grateful that Abuela took her time to tell him in detail all these stories, so he could imagine what living there must be like, but he couldn’t put a finger on what this feeling was, jealousy? Maybe. Longing? Probably. Resentment? Possibly. Desire? Who knows. He wasn’t sure, the only thing he knew for a fact was that this feeling made him wonder what would have happened if his parent just stayed in the sunny bliss that is his country, and having such a thought made him feel guilty so, he tried not to dawn it for too long, and told himself that one day he would have enough money to go and live there for the rest of his days (a few years maybe? No, he wanted this) and experience his country...but he could also come back settle down, help Dee, so he can fend for himself, and maybe start dating, he could always try to ask R-

“ I'm gonna test ya later

I'm getting tested times are tough on this bodega

Two months ago somebody bought Ortega's Our

Neighbors started packin' up and pickin' up

And ever since the rent's went up

It's gotten mad expensive

But we live with just enough”

He had to cut that train of thought quickly, he couldn't be day dreaming about impossible scenarios when rush hour was coming, and everyone would be awake heading for work and would pass through his bodega and get his world- well barrio famous café con leche, but he had no idea what he would do today since the fridge decided to stop working, and he had started to panic a little, thank god for Abuela because he would have gone into full panic mode if it weren’t for her walking in, “Mijo what's wrong? You look stressed.” she always knew when something was wrong, “Ay, abuela my fridge broke... I got café but no con leche” he tried not to sound too disheartened and worried as not to raise any worry, “try mother’s old recipe, one can of condensed milk!” that was all she had to say, and he was instantly calmer, but it wouldn’t be Abuela if she didn’t end it with “Paciencia Y Fe!” she said it as she exited the store. She may not be his real grandma, but he certainly loved her as if she was his grandmother, hell mother even! She practically raised him for god’s sake!

“ In the heights

I can't survive without café

I serve café

Cuz tonight seems like a million years away!

En Washington—”

Then and there the barrio came alive in a matter of milliseconds and everyone was rushing through the streets, and the cars were honking, and everything lit up as if from a scene in a movie. He liked how he always knew who to expect at what time, it was comforting to have routine, and he guessed other people agreed with him because they were always on time, First up was the Rosario’s, they run the cab company down the street, Even, so they struggle in the barrio, their son Patton is off to college and tuition is ridiculously expensive so, everything they get is mad cheap. Virgil always knew everyone's usual, and the Rosario’s were no exception, “Good Morning virgiiiiiil” Larry’s singsong voice sliced through his thoughts, he automatically started gathering his usual,“Pan caliente, Café con leche” he said as he put the items in the counter, “put twenty dollars on today’s lottery” Larry said with a smile on his face, before Virgil could do anything Dot’s voice came through “ one ticket that’s it!” she said with a stern tone, her eyes still pretty playful, “hey!, a man’s got a dream...” she rolled her eyes and turned to Virgil “don't mind him he's all excited ‘cuz Patton flew in at three am last night” she was smiling warmly while thinking of her son, Larry’s voice caught her attention, and she looked up “don’t look at me, this ones been cooking all week” he said while making a gesture with his thumb in her direction, she rolled her eyes, “Virgil come over for dinner there's plenty to eat!” they took the bag off the counter and left the store.

“ Me and my cousin runnin' just another

Dime-a-dozen

Mom-and-pop stop-and-shop

And, oh my god,

It's gotten too darn hot like my man Cole Porter said

People come

Through for a few cold waters and

A lottery ticket,

Just a part of the routine ”

He sees Dee trying to sneak past and obviously failing, “Dante you’re late” Virgil tries to say it in a stern voice, “chillax you know you love me.” Dee smirked and got to work, Virgil couldn't hold back the smile any longer, he just sighed and started warming up for the real rush hour coming, there was going to be multiple people talking to him at once and even if he finally had Dee to help, he knew the both wouldn't be enough, but after years of this being his job, he knows how to handle many people talking to him at once and keep in mind these are Latino people, which meant there was several people talking to him at once but at twice the speed of a normal human conversation, and if they were on a rush make it four times as fast.

“ Everybody's got a job;

Everybody's got a dream

They gossip,

As I sip my coffee and smirk

The first stop as people hop to work ”

The last people to come before rush hour were Remy and Valerie work on the salon next door, and as always Remy was telling Val about the new chisme, and Virgil couldn't help but eavesdrop, it was his bodega after all, so he had to have some sort of right to do so, plus it wasn't like he tried to hide the fact that he was listening, if something surprised him it, he wouldn't try to stifle a gasp, but he never got to hear the gossip from the beginning, so he had to try to piece it together and sometime he didn't even get to hear the end, he started preparing their usual orders as he listened, “so, then Yesenia walks in the room” “ah ha” she smells sex, and cheap perfume” “uh oh”, “it smells like one of those reeves that you hang from the rearview” Valerie didn't really add much to the story just her random reactions to show she was listening, “haha no!,” “its true! She screams ‘who's in there with you Julio!’ grabs a bat and quick in me’ door…” Virgil started piecing some things together, they were talking about Yesenia getting cheated on, Julio probably had cheated on her with some gir-” he's in bed with José from the liquor store!” well that was a twist! Virgil couldn't help what he said next, “No me diga!” he and Valerie said it in perfect sync, he hands them their respective coffees, and they both say a simple, “thanks Virgil!”

“ Bust it— I'm like— One dollar, two

Dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine I got it

You want a box of condoms what kind?

That's two quarters Two quarter waters

The New York Times

You need a bag for that?

The tax is added ”

It was finally time, the long awaited rush hour, people were asking him the cost of things, where things were located, he even got some surprising questions, but he couldn't even stop and dawn on it for too long because he had a few people asking him questions, and he didn't want an angry mob of Latinos forming this early in the day, there was a few people here and there that came for only coffee but at this time people usually came to look for stuff that they needed like a few groceries or toiletries but this was for sure the most stressful part of the day, but it wasn't as bad as you might think.

“ Once you get some practice at it

You do rapid

Mathematics automatically

Sellin' maxipads and fuzzy dice for taxicabs and practically

Everybody's stressed, yes,

But they press through the mess

Bounce checks and wonder what's next ”

Virgil was used to this, he had this jump of adrenaline in his day-to-day life, and his need to make everyone complacent as they left his small bodega made him work extra hard, it was almost over though and the only way to truly know it was over was once Logan walked through that door, he and Dante would never tell Logan how happy, and relieved they were any time He walked in through the bodega door, Virgil was relieved when Logan entered the bodega? Yes, but was he happy? Kind of, since Logan and Dee would team up against him to poke fun at him, most of the time it had to do with Virgil’s love life but what can you do? The funniest thing was when Logan would try to beat Virgil to say what he usually got but Virgil was just faster and knew all of it by heart so, he always won, which frustrated Logan which in turn made him feel a little better when Logan and Dee bothered him about his love life, it wasn't something he liked to talk about so in turn he couldn't really argue with them about it, so he just tried to shut them up quickly especially since Roman was always the one to come after Logan, but he was usually distracted with something so even if they were talking about it, he wouldn't notice since Logan and Dante would shut up, and see what Virgil would do, now it was just time to wait for Logan to arrive, so he and Dee would be able to take a break.

“ In the heights I buy my coffee and I go

I buy my coffee and—

Set my sights

On only what I need to know

What I need to know—

In the heights Money is tight

But even so—

Even so—

When the lights go down I blast my radio!

En Washington “

The man of the hour walked through the door, Logan saw Virgil and Dante release A breath they were holding, he smirked, Virgil knew what that meant, his challenge for the day, try to beat Virgil to say what he wanted, mission impossible , Logan always tried to throw Virgil off guard with a tease, it never worked. “ you ain't got no skills!” Virgil smiled, this ought to be fun , “Logan!” virgil let logan start saying his order so then he could annoy Logan by interrupting him, “Yo, let me get a-” “milky way” he said as he put it on the counter, “ yeah, let me also get a-”, “daily news” virgil knew he was starting to get on his nerves once saw the way he looked at the paper on the counter, “ and a-” “post” virgil just smirked, logan’s smile was faltering, “And most important, my-” “ Boss’ second coffee, one cream-” LOgan always came for Mr. Rosario’s second coffee, he didn't really drink coffee from what virgil knew, “ five sugars” Logan tried to beat Virgil to saying it but they ended up saying it at the same time, dante just rolled his eyes, he knew Virgil would always win but he still cheered logan on. Once logan inevitably failed he tried to show his skills off to prove one day he might get to outsmart Virgil,“I'm the number one earner”, “what?!”, they both knew it was all in good fun, “the fastest learner”

“what?!”, but sometimes virgil would irritate Logan and that's how they would end up with Logan teasing Virgil about him liking Roman, ,“my Boss can't keep me on the damn back burner!” “yes he can” and Dante would be on LOgans team “i'm making moves, i’m making deals, but guess what” “what?” “you still ain't got no skills”, “hardee-har” virgil mocked, “ Yo, Roman Show up yet?” Virgil face was immediately up in flames, “shut up!” “hey little homie, don't get so upset” virgil know what to target on Logan but it was the same viceversa, “man..” he knew he couldn't stop this from happening anyway do he just kind of accepted it, “ Tell Roman how you feel, buy the boy a meal on the real, or you ain't got no skills-”

Logan was interrupted by someone coming in and virgil was thankful for it... until he looked up to see who it was, Roman distractedly talking to the phone so he probably didn't hear any of that (hopefully), “Nooo! No no nooo! No no nooo, no-no-no! Nooo, no-no-no! No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no, no-no-no-no-no!” well now virgil was curious to who he was talking to, Roman had always been someone extra and comfortable around everyone in the barrio but to just walk into the bodega while having an apparent important conversation was surprising nonetheless, “Mr. Johnson, I got the security deposit, It’s locked in a box in the bottom of my closet, It’s not reflected in my bank statement, But I’ve been savin’ to make a down payment and pay rent, No, no, I won’t let you down—” Roman made a pause to listen to the person on he other end of the call and Logan took this opportunity to talk “ Yo, here’s your chance; ask him out right now!” Virgil pushed logan to shut him up because Roman was right there and he could hear him! “ I’ll see you later, we can look at that lease!” Roman seemed relieved and a small smile started creeping its way into his face, he still didn't seem fully calm but he looked more at ease.

“Do somethin’, make your move, don’t freeze!” His silent awe towards Roman was interrupted as logan pushed him towards Roman just as he ended the call, so he had no way of escaping the situation, “Hey!” “You owe me a bottle of cold champagne”! Virgil had almost forgotten completely about their bet, the first one to get out of the barrio has to get the other champagne, “ Are you moving?” virgil said it almost as if he were disappointed which was a surprise to himself, “Just a little credit check and I’m on that downtown train!” Roman said it with a smile lighting up his face, Virgil noticed he was staring, adn tried to act fast “ Well, your coffee’s on the house”, “okay!” Roman took the coffee and looked down in a shy way with a small smile , virgil had never seen him like that, “Usnavi, ask him out...” he heard Logan whisper shouting at him and he sincerely hoped that Roman hadn’t heard that, “No way!” Virgil heard Dante say to Benny and that comment kind of offended him, “I’ll see you later, so…” Roman said awkwardly and turned to leave the Bodega. “ Oooh... Smooth operator, aw, damn, there she goes! Yo, bro, take five, take a walk outside! You look exhausted, lost, don’t let life slide! The whole hood is struggling, times are tight And you’re stuck to this corner like a streetlight!” after that Logan took his things and left the bodega.

“Yeah, I'm a streetlight,

Choking on the heat The world spins around while I'm frozen to my

Seat The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street But

Everyday is different so I'm switchin' up the beat Cuz my parents

Came with nothing They got a little more And sure, we're poor, but yo

At least we got the store And it's all about the legacy they left

With me, it's destiny And one day I'll be on a beach with Sonny

Writing checks

to me “

Virgil’s mood dropped as soon as those words came out of Logan’s mouth, he knew Logan didn't mean anything by it but that didn't stop his heart from dropping onto the Floor of his store, this was one of his fears to be stuck with his Bodega and be left behind by everyone else, everyone that cares for him or at least he thinks they- He stopped dead in his tracks, He couldn't be thinking like that, his parents did everything they could before they died to get this corner store and one day he's going to go back to his country just like him(?) and Abuela want and Dante will have a stable life with the income he will get from the store and his life will be bliss.

“ In the heights I hang my flag up on display We

Came to work and to live and we got a lot in

Common It reminds me that I came from miles away D

R., P

R., we are not stoppin'

In the heights

Every day, paciencia y fe

Until the day we go from poverty to stock options

In the heights I've got today

And today's all we got,

So we cannot stop This is our block In the heights I

Hang my flag up on display Lo le lo le lo lai lai lo le!

It reminds me that I came from miles away! “

Virgil can practically hear people's thoughts and dreams circling through the air but to be honest Virgil didn't really hear them...he felt the electric buzzing that came with the streets of the place he was raised. It was one of the many things he liked about his barrio at a quick glance it isn't much just a little place in New York filled with immigrants that have bigger dreams, bigger than themselves and everyone around them… its as if You cant walk through these streets without bumping into somebody's dream.

“ I Hang my flag up on display Lo le lo le lo lai lai lo le!

It reminds me that I came from miles away!

My family came from miles away— In the heights It gets more expensive

Every day Every day And tonight is so far away—

But as for mañana, mi pana Ya gotta just keep watchin'

You'll see the Late nights You'll taste Beans and rice The syrups and

Shaved ice I ain't gonna Say it twice ”

They all knew were they came from, the sunniest places a person could ever go to. They all know the situation that is happening in the barrio , how no one is really here to stay, how this is just a stepping stool towards a bigger dream...but they didn't care. They all will know soon enough what is to come but for now…

“ Turn up the stage lights

We're takin' a flight To a couple

Of days In the life of what it's like

En Washington Heights! ”

----------------------------

@malaya-is-a-hoe I did it sis

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kimmyiewrites · 4 years

Text

Wasted ~ Chpt 4

Catch Up Masterlist

After breakfast, Mary had decided instead of going with Frank and Ryn to the latest boat he was fixing up, she would go over to Roberta’s. That way she could hopefully come up with a master plan and no one would have to worry about Boston ever again. Ryn was secretly grateful because that meant she could have a discussion with Frank about things.

“So, you fix boats now?” She figured it would be better to start off slow.

Frank chuckled. “I was wondering when that question was going to come up.”

“I just find it an interesting career change. And you’re actually good at this?”

“I think you have forgotten how many times I helped you with that old clunker of a car you used to drive around.”

Ryn gasped. “Don’t you disrespect her that way. Especially now that you’ve got this.” She patted the dashboard of Frank’s truck.

He gave her a quick glance before focusing back on the road. “That thing broke down on you at least once a month.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I had such a rugged budding mechanic at my beck and call.” She shook her head with a laugh. “How many women have you brought down to a boat you’ve been working on?” She looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

There was a mixture of a smirk and a sheepish look that graced his features. He felt a little guilty for getting caught but this was also a prime time to tease Ryn. “Why? You trying to make sure you’re the first?”

Ryn rolled her eyes, glad that they were stopping so she could get out and away from the thought he had put in her head for at least a little bit. “No.” She said, getting out of the truck.

A true smirk graced his features at the knowledge that he had gotten to her. She even set the whole thing up so nicely so really she couldn’t be mad. “There’s not much space on this one anyway so don’t worry, I won’t try anything.”

“Good, because I thought I made that perfectly clear last night.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she followed him out to the boat.

“Oh, you did.”

She sat on the pier, resting against the post the boat was tied to while Frank was down working in the boat. For awhile, there was silence between them as Frank worked and Ryn soaked up rays from the sun and listened to the water lapping at the shore. “You know what I can’t fathom?” She finally spoke up when she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“That I now work on boats? We just had this conversation, Ryn.” Frank teased from where he was working on the motor.

“No, well, I mean yes, but that’s not what I meant.” She sat up a little straighter so she could watch him as he worked, hoping to catch onto any non verbal cues. “What I can’t fathom is how you let Evelyn take Mary to Boston. You know she only wants that little girl so she can figure out that fancy math problem.”

Frank sighed as he tightened one last bolt. “I really don’t want to have this conversation right now, Ryn.”

“And why not? You know you could have called, told me she was coming. I could have showed her the studio, the city, that there’s life beyond math problems.” She argued, moving away from the post she was resting against.

He pulled on the rip cord and let out a sigh of relief when it started. “Get on the boat.” He turned to face Ryn.

“What?”

“Get on the boat, Ryn.” If they were going to have this conversation, it was going to be far away from where anyone could walk by. “I need to do a test drive.”

Ryn groaned as she stood. “Fine.” She stepped from the pier to the boat, sitting in one of the passenger seats.

“Are you ever going to answer my question?” She asked once they had been driving for awhile.

In response, Frank just sped up. He was taking her to one of the barrier islands off the coast. It was nothing but sand and water, but it was perfect for private conversations or for when he and Mary just wanted to get away for a little bit.

When the reached their destination, Frank helped Ryn out of the boat. Figuring that he would talk when ready, Ryn waited, walking alongside him in silence.

“I let her go because she deserves to see all of her options. She hated it so I took that as a win. All I want is for this to go away as smooth and quick as possible. She doesn’t need all of this added stress.”

“You’re right, Mary doesn’t need all of this added stress but you let Evelyn see what Mary could do. She’s not going to let up Frank and you know it.”

“I am well aware of my mother’s evil doings, Ryn, but I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t in the best interest of the case.” Frank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew the moment I heard your name called you would get too invested in this.”

Ryn spun around to face him, clinched fists and a fire in her eyes. He should have been scared but this wasn’t the first time he had seen her wrath, or even seen it. He used to think how sorry the poor souls were who inflicted this reaction out of her. Now that he was on the receiving end, he was surprised he was able to stand his ground.

Then she took a step forward and that moment of bravery went away. Her mouth opened to start her rant and he remembered that even though she was a brilliant artist, she knew how to wield her words like the best swordsman.

“And what exactly, is that supposed to mean, Francis? You could have told me no, you could have sent me home but yet you’re letting me stay until this mess is over. You say I’m too invested? Then where is your investment? You’re her uncle! Diane left Mary with you for a reason and you just let Evelyn see how gifted that little girl is. And I’m too invested in this?”

Frank groaned, grateful that he had at least done something smart today by taking them to a remote island to hash everything out. “I just told you, I had to! She had to see how the other side lived so if it came down to it, she could make a decision. She told me she didn’t want to go so I’m fighting like hell so she doesn’t have to.”

Another step forward, her hands were now placed on her hips. “Then why was she the one to summon me and not you? I would have come in a heartbeat if you had just told me what was going on but no, I had to be subpoenaed by the Wicked Witch of the West!”

“Because I wanted to keep you out of this mess, Ryn. I was trying to save one of our lives from changing completely and clearly it wasn’t going to be mine.” She looked a little shocked at that, not quite so quick to reply so he kept going. “You told me Diane called you, Ryn. You don’t think I was able to somehow put things together? You were a sister to her, a role model. She wanted nothing more than to be able to live a life as freely as yours. She knew though that no matter how free you seemed to be that you would always be there for us, always look out for us, so she made sure you always would. I don’t know what kind of promise she made you make but let it go, Ryn, because I’m clearly not keeping mine.”

“I will always look out for you and Mary, promise or no promise. I may not have had contact with you for years but every night, I sent a prayer up, hoping that you two were okay and well taken care of. You were so worried about ruining my life you didn’t stop to think that you leaving without so much as a text would do just that.” She swiped at her cheeks to remove the few tears that had fallen. “You have given Mary the best life and will continue to do so. You just have to finally start being smart about it.”

She started walking back to the boat. She got her answer and now she was definitely going back to Boston after the trial was done. It was clear to her that she wasn’t wanted. Frank sighed, looking up at the sky for a moment before chasing after her. This was not how things were meant to go. “Ryn, wait.” He reached out and took a hold of her hand to get her to stop.

Ryn whirled around, pulling her hand out of his grasp as she did so. “What, Frank? What more could there possibly be said?”

“I made sure that Mary remembered her Auntie Ryn because she needed to know that there was someone else out there in her corner. I can’t believe you didn’t see the painting you did for her hanging over her bed. She barely knew you and yet missed you as if you had been in her life this entire time. Everytime she would ask about you, I came closer and closer to calling you but I never did because I’m an idiot. I know I can’t take back what I did. I know it’ll be awhile until we could even remotely have what we did but I miss you, Ryn, and I’m so sorry.”

A smile crept its way onto her features before she grew serious. He couldn’t get away with things that easy. She wouldn’t allow it. “Well, I’m glad you know that you’re gonna have to work for it because a simple sorry isn’t gonna let you off the hook that easy.”

He flashed her that charming grin of his, thrilled to know that she had forgiven him. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Placing a kiss on the side of her head as he walked by, he stopped a little bit ahead and offered out his hand.

Ryn rolled her eyes but placed her hand in his. “Still not off the hook.”

Frank just chuckled as they walked hand in hand back to the boat.

#frank adler fic #frank adler imagine #gifted fic #frank adler #frank x ryn #wasted #kim writes things #this is my queue song

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breathinginthevapor · 5 years

Text

Love in the horizon

Summary: Even though he’s only home for a couple months a year, Calum’s your best friend. One early morning in Sydney, you enjoy the sun rise together.

A/N: This is an old piece I found, but I think it’s quite cute. I’m kinda torn between writing for 5sos and marvel, but I have a few 5sos pieces up my sleeve until I’ll make my decision. However, if you prefer one of the two fandoms, let me know! Also, I think I’ll begin making taglists, so if you want to be on it (either the marvel one or the 5sos one or both), message me!

Word count: 1000+

T/W: None (as far as I know)

My masterlist

The sun rises above the water, painting the sky with pink and lilac hues while the light reflects in his eyes and colours them golden.

He doesn’t look away from the horizon, even when he starts talking.

“Do you ever wish you could go back and not sit down at our table in fifth grade?” he questions, voice raw and hoarse, almost vulnerable. “Sure as hell would have made everything easier for you.” You grab his hand and lace your fingers together like you’ve done so many times before when he was feeling down. “Never,” you assure him. “But in my darkest moments when I just need my best friend, and you’re on the other side of the world, I selflessly wish that you never left for London in the first place,” you admit, and he finally moves his head and looks at you. “Then I remind myself how lucky I am to love someone who’s living out his biggest dream and meaning so much to so many people. And that I’m not the only one who needs you.” He comfortingly squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back, no words needed. Calum rarely talks much, not even around you, but you’ve learned how to communicate with each other only through actions and glances. You sit in silence for a while, the song of nature and the ocean being the only noise. If you could, you’d freeze this moment and just stay like this for a long time, perhaps forever. Never grow old, never have to face the real world. Just you and Calum together and nothing ever separating you. “What do you think would have happened if I’d stayed here?” You look at the ocean in front of you, how the waves crash into the sand before being pulled back again. Just like Calum always fights to keep coming back to you before being taken away on yet another airplane.

His question isn’t new to you, sometimes popping up in your head on long, lonely nights, or even on mornings where you grab your phone to call Calum and ask him to get breakfast at your favourite diner before remembering he’s touring in Malaysia or Germany or another country far away from you. “You’d probably have went to college with me, studying music theory or something. We’d have movie nights every week and end up getting an apartment together because we’d always just sleep over at each other’s place anyway.”

You both smile at the thought, easily picturing a life where you had more similar lifestyles. If only it was like that.

But would he be happy in that reality?

There is a restlessness to Calum, a yearning that he outlives by touring the world with his songs and offering his heart to new crowds every other night, and you’re not sure he would be able to keep that side of him at bay in a normal life.

“What do you think?” you inquire, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. Sometimes, it’s better not to think at all.

You don’t even know if it’s healthy to imagine these scenarios, don’t know if they’ll only further break your heart. But you’re not even fooling yourself: you’d gladly let Calum break your heart over and over again. You’ve been doing it for years already, after all. He takes a deep breath, the sound mixing with the gentle tones of the waves and birds chirping somewhere. “I think you’re right about eventually moving in together. I’d probably have proposed to you, too, at some gross diner we found at 3 a.m after a late night drive through town, searching for a place that can compare to Millie’s back home. And then we would get married at a small ceremony with only close friends and family, perhaps on the beach right here. And when we graduated college and both found jobs, there’d soon be small copies of us running around.”

You gasp when he says the word ‘propose’ and although cliché, you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. What does one answer to that? To someone else, especially a man of few words like Calum, baring themselves to you with a string of words that makes your both flutter and ache? “You’ve certainly thought a lot about that, huh?”

Your throat is dry and your voice barely audible, and you feel your palms grow sweaty. “You’re not the only one who sometimes wish things could be different,” he calmly states, your fingers still laced together but his gaze once again fixed on the horizon. You look down at your hands and feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “I- what are you saying, Calum?”

He still doesn’t look at you, but you can see him breathing in deeply before answering, clearly gathering up strength. “That you’re not selfish for sometimes wishing your best friend was there for you because I certainly often wish I were, too. And then, I might have had a chance to win your heart as well, just like you won mine the first day we met, in fifth grade.”

There’s something about the way he says it, so void of doubt, that makes your head feel like it’s on fire and happiness swirling through your veins, all the way to your fingertips that start to itch. So you reach up and cup his cheeks, turning his head to look at you. “Calum, your job might not always allow you to be close to me, but you know that I love you, right? And that there’s no one but you I’d ever want to be in love with, ever. Having you a couple months is better than anyone else the whole year.” He smiles widely at you, and it feels like sunbeams inside you. But that’s just the energy Calum has. With his chocolate eyes, dark curls and tanned skin, everything about his look screams warmth, just like he’s the sweetest, funniest and most considerate person you’ve ever met. “I’m not quite sure how this is gonna work out yet, Y/N, but can I kiss you?” You smile and nod, and as your lips connect with his, sitting on the sand and with the morning sun shining upon you, it doesn’t feel like a beginning, but instead another chapter of you and Calum’s story.

And that story is far from over.

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between (formerly ‘The Ghost of You’) – Updated

@tinyarmedtrex @violetreddie @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh

PSA: I changed the name of this fic. It was once ‘The Ghost of You’ but I don’t think that fit the story anymore, so I changed it. Hope that isn’t too confusing!

Chapter 4 - Nothing Ever Becomes Real Until It Is Experienced

Read on AO3 HERE

A stream of lava-hot water hit Richie’s back, waging a brutal war against the knotted muscles of his back.

“SHE’S ALL I NEED ALL OF MY LIFE!”

He rubbed the bar of ivory coloured soap between his hands, before rubbing the soapy lather over his chest.

“I FEEL SO GOOOOD IF I JUST SAY THE WOOOOOORD”

Turning around, Richie closed his eyes against the torrent of water, letting it rush over his face and chest, the soapy suds disappearing down the drain.

“ SUH-SUH-SUSSUDIO”

Richie opened his eyes, mouth still half open from where he’d been singing, and, as if he had always been there, Eddie’s disembodied head looked back at him from where it was sticking directly through the shower curtain.

“Richie! The lambs have come back down off the hills and – oh good lord, you’re naked!”

“JESUS FUCK!”

A primal scream tore its way out of Richie’s throat as he unceremoniously tumbled to the floor of the shower, clasping helplessly at the shower curtain as he fell. The curtain ripped from its fastenings, and floated to the ground gently. Richie grabbed at it, yanking it towards him to cover what was left of his modesty.

“What the fuck, Eddie!”

Eddie was standing in the bathroom, looking scandalized but also very mildly amused.

“I’m ever so sorry, Richie!”

“The door was locked, how the hell did you even get in here?!” Richie demanded, feeling his face bloom with blush, caused not only by the scalding temperature of the water.

“I – I didn’t use the door”

Richie blinked, incredulous.

“You didn’t use the door” he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows, an invitation. ‘Explain yourself’.

“I haven’t used a door in seventy years, and I don’t intend on starting now!”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Eddie has his arms crossed in what Richie imagines is supposed to be indignation, a silent ‘I’ve been here longer than you, this is more my house than it ever will be yours.” Richie can’t help but feel a pang in his chest, something so close to affection it’s uncanny, a cloying kind of feeling that envelops his heart and holds it hostage.

Eddie breaks first.

“It really was an accident, Richie, I sort of forgot – I forgot about …” he trails off before he can say it, but Richie knows.

I forgot what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to spend time with another person.

Richie’s annoyance melts like snow.

– X –

The house is almost finished. Nearly all of the major appliances have been installed, the water runs perfectly, and the electrics have been wired and approved. The only major task facing Richie now was decorating, which was unfortunate because Richie had been cursed with perpetually shaky hands meaning that his lines were never straight or clean enough. He’d been complaining about it to Eddie one evening, sat out on the porch, wind rustling Richie’s hair like autumn leaves, but leaving Eddie’s untouched, each hair frozen in time and space.

Richie had fallen asleep outside, a combination of the lake’s lullaby-ripples, and the warmth of the balmy night. He’d slept deeply, watched over by the moon and the stars, and woken up with a crick in his neck and freezing hands.

Eddie was no-where to be seen, but Richie was unbothered. Eddie made a habit of wandering the moors at night, unbound by the mortal need to sleep, dream and recharge. He was free to roam as he saw fit, truly a being of the night, drifting amongst the dreaming lambs and the trees that stretched humbly towards the moon. He always returned, though. Returned to the house that he’d died in, and, by association, to Richie.

Richie hauled his heavy bones into the house, and up the rickety stair case, desperate to change out of the stale smelling clothes from the night before. He could hear the clanging of something metallic, and Eddie’s high and bright whistling, like a bell beckoning Richie into the room. When Richie cautiously pushed the door open, his mouth opened in shock.

While he slept, the summer sky had materialised on his bedroom walls. Fluffy marshmallow clouds on a cornflower blue sky.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the room, paintbrush in hand, looking somewhat guilty.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up yet. You don’t normally wake up before 7 or so”

“Eddie what the hellllll” Richie drawled, eyes scanning the room in astonishment.

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, eyes and voice earnest and so sugary sweet Richie couldn’t take it.

“I so wish I could hug you right now, this is fuckin’ torture, s’what it is. This is beautiful, Eds. It’s – I don’t have the words”

“Heh. The oven mitts are downstairs, so, I suppose … I’m glad you like it, though. I was worried you’d hate it and think that I’d over-stepped, or something”

“No! Not at all. It’s … thank you, Eddie. Seriously, thank you. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”

“I know you hate painting and I used to paint a bit, when I was, y’know, so … I thought I’d help you out a bit”

“You’ve done more than just help me out, Eds, yowza!”

Richie sincerely wished Eddie was wearing those damn oven gloves, as he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his hand and never let go.

– X –

The kitchen hated Richie, and, by all accounts, the feeling was pretty mutual. Laying a new floor down had been an absolute nightmare, considering the fact that the room was bizarrely shaped, so Richie had had to painstakingly cut each piece of timber out with a circle-saw to the exact measurements. This had taken longer than Richie cared to admit, but he had eventually finished, and the glossy oak floorboards smiled up at him, thanking him for his time and effort. Painting the kitchen was a breeze in comparison, throwing a white emulsion onto the walls before covering it with a blueish-grey, light and bright enough for a kitchen, but not an emotionless white. The back wall was the only one that was still just white emulsion, and Richie had planned to paint it grey in the afternoon.

That had been his plan, before he heard an almighty crash echo throughout the house, a metallic clang, and then a horrified yell.

“Eddie?! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie shouted, running down the stairs at light speed, expecting to find Eddie contorted in pain, or gone from the house entirely, or a number of equally as horrifying possibilities.

What he found when he rounded the corner, and burst into the kitchen, was blueish-grey paint covering practically every surface in the kitchen, and a very forlorn looking Eddie staring at the mess.

“What – What happened in here?!”

Eddie looked up at Richie with pleading, guilty eyes, wringing his hands together.

“I… I tried to walk through the wall carrying the paint and … Well, I suppose paint cannot travel through walls”

“What have I told you about using the effing doors!” Richie bellowed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to the door that he had just sprinted through.

His new floor, his expensive oak floorboards that he had laboured over for weeks, ruined. The oven had thankfully not been installed yet, and sat in its protective plastic packaging, but even that was splattered with paint. The clock was covered in paint. The gas stove that Richie had been using to cook was covered in paint. In short, everything was covered in a sheen of grey paint.

“I was trying to help,” Eddie mumbled, mouse-small, “You said you loved your new bedroom walls and I thought – I thought I’d save you some work because I know how much you hate painting and – I am a catastrophe”

Richie felt awful.

“Naw, Eds, you’re not. C’mon, it’s not that bad. I can get some white spirit on the floor, that’ll probably lift most of it, and maybe Mike will let me borrow his electric sander. Hey now, Eds, c’mon, you look like you’re going to cry, you’re killing me”

“I would cry if I could”

“Can you cry?”

“No, because if I could, I would be doing so now”

Richie opened one of the now grey kitchen drawers, and pulled out Eddie’s oven mitts. He passed them over to Eddie, who reluctantly slipped them onto his hands, the scrunch of concentration that Richie had grown so fond of etched onto his face.

“I’m gonna hold your hand now,” Richie announced, before taking Eddie’s hand in his, “I promise that I’m not mad with you. I’m just – I’m just a bit frustrated but it’s not the end of the world. Kitchens come and go but Eddie Spaghetti’s are forever”

“Is that a joke … because I am dead?” Eddie asked, voice hesitant but Richie watched as a smile formed on his face, slowly, like a flower opening to pray to the sun.

“It wasn’t ‘sposed to be” Richie shrugged, hand still gripping onto Eddie’s mitted-hand tightly.

“Are you sure you’re not mad with me?”

“I promise”

– X –

One thing that Richie soon came to learn was that Eddie loved music. Richie often heard Eddie’s ethereal whistling echoing around the house, or heard him humming little ditty’s that Richie didn’t recognise. Sometimes Eddie sang properly, a surprisingly rich and strong tenor that stirred things in Richie’s heart that had been dormant for years.

One day, when Richie was sanding the grey paint off the floorboards in the kitchen and singing along to Higher Ground by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Eddie’s voice announced his presence before Richie was even aware of him being in the room, a habit of Eddie’s that he was growing slowly used to.

“This music sounds so different to the kind of things I used to listen to when I was younger”

Richie turned off the electric sander, before turning the radio up, Anthony Kiedis’ voice booming out of the speaker. Eddie looked vaguely alarmed, before tapping the toe of his boot slightly, face screwed in concentration, as if he was sampling the music like wine, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the beat or not. Richie hopped around on alternate feet, pretending to slap an imaginary bass, his face screwed up in his best approximation of ‘bass face’. He wasn’t sure that Eddie would know what bass face was, but he didn’t care. Eddie watched Richie with wide, half-confused half-amused eyes, the toe of his left boot still tap-tap-tapping away to the beat.

The song drew to a close soon after, and Richie bounced over to the radio and turned it off.

“So, d’ya like it?”

“It’s … interesting. It’s different, absolutely, but … it’s good. It’s got a good beat, I like the rhythm. I … rather liked his voice,” Eddie stuttered, and Richie was sure that if it were possible for Eddie’s face to flush with embarrassment, it would be doing so right now, “but one thing I don’t understand is where you put the records in that tiny machine? Are records really tiny now?”

“Records? Why would there be records?” Richie asked as confusion washed over him in waves, before realising that Eddie had no idea what a twenty-first century radio looked like.

“Oh, no, this is a radio, not a record player. Some people still use records, but those people are called ‘hipsters’ and you wouldn’t like them. But this is a radio, you know what a radio is, right?”

“Yes, Richard, I know what a radio is. I wasn’t born 700 years ago” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jus’ checkin’, jus’ checkin’. So you know how radios work, right? Like … the music is in the air? Radio waves and all that jazz?”

“The music is in the air?!” Eddie spluttered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“I thought you said you knew what radios were?!”

“Well, I know what they are, I never professed to know how they work”

Richie can’t help but laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face, a picture of exasperation mixed with confusion, and he is semi-horrified by the realisation that he wants to kiss it off Eddie’s face.

Well that’s new.

Richie tries to squash all ghost-kissing desires deep into his brain into a box marked ‘bad idea’ but he knows that that box has a habit of refusing to remain closed and springing open unexpectedly.

In his desperation to sway his attention from Eddie’s grumpy, kissable face, Richie cranks the radio up even further, switching the station to the all-day 80s bangers station he’d found a few weeks ago. Bonnie Tyler’s voice filtered out of the speakers, and Richie lip-synced along with her as she lamented about the fact that she didn’t have a street-wise Hercules. Eddie watched as if transfixed, eyes following the minutia of Richie’s movements but standing on the side lines, not joining in Richie’s one-man dance party.

“Dance with me!” Richie yelled, waving his arms erratically in the air as Bonnie’s voice howled around the room.

“I can’t!”

“You can!”

“I can’t!”

“YOU CAN!” Richie practically screamed, “dance with me, Eds! Please!”

Richie’s pestering finally broke Eddie’s resolve, and just as the song peaked, Eddie started to dance.

Now it was Richie’s turn to gawp.

Eddie threw himself around the room wildly, feet a blur as he alternated between rhythmic walking, jumping and kicking his feet , whilst waving his arms in a jaunty swing, occasionally snapping his fingers or clapping his hands in time with the music.

“You’ve been holding out on me, you sneak! Look at you go!” Richie yelled over the music, hardly moving, just watching Eddie spin and twist and jump.

“I may or may not have been quite the accomplished swing dancer when I was … y’know …” Eddie gasped, mid spin.

“I fuckin’ bet you were! Look at your fancy feet!”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Eddie laughed, performing a particularly complicated piece of footwork, and peeking up at Richie with his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Damn straight, look at us, a couple-a movers and shakers, but damn, Eds, you shake it the best. You gotta teach me.”

Eddie laughed as he span past Richie, and Richie followed him, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips in a way that he assumed looked ridiculous, but the way Eddie’s eyes lingered on the swivel of his hips suggested otherwise.

The song finished, and a slow ballad started to play – all slow, smooth guitar and mellow vocals.

Richie, gasping from exertion, stopped dancing, and so did Eddie, who looked exactly the same as he always did, not a hair or piece of fluff out of place.

“How do we dance to this one? It’s a bit slow, Rich”

An idea crashed into Richie’s brain at warp speeds.

“Hang on”

Richie disappeared downstairs, and returned clasping Eddie’s oven mitts in his hands.

“Put these on” Richie instructed Eddie, like he always did, and once Eddie had put the mitts on, he grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“We gotta slow dance to songs like this, them’s the rules”

“Uh … but we’re both … you aren’t a … I’m not a woman”

“I won’t tell if you won’t”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t move his hands, either. Knowing that he couldn’t put his hands on Eddie’s waist like he wanted to, Richie settled for placing his hands over Eddie’s mitts, on his shoulders. They swayed back and forth.

“Are you like me?” Eddie whispered, voice barely loud enough for Richie to hear over the music.

“Depends what you mean by that, Spaghetti. Am I dead? No. Am I a wicked dancer? Yes. You gotta be more specific”

“You are a brute! You know exactly what I mean”

“Do you mean ‘do I fall in love with men’?”

Eddie hesitated for a second, before nodding the affirmative.

“Then yes, I am like you. But I also fall in love with women. I like ‘em both. Greedy like that”

“Is that … is that possible?”

“Sure is, sugar!”

Eddie closed his eyes, and Richie was sure that if Eddie could cry, this would be another occasion where he would be doing so.

“I only … I only fall in love with men. I had – Rupert. We – he died. I never got to say goodbye”

A heavy sort of sadness settled in the room. Eddie’s eyes, downcast and lidded, refused to meet Richie’s. They stood in the middle of the room, touching but not really, dancing but not really, in silence.

“I hate that I can’t hold you, Eddie”

“I hate that you can’t hold me, too”

– X –

Something changed after they danced together. Not a seismic shift, but a small tremor. Eddie told Richie about Rupert, and how they’d lived together in relative sin, and as he spoke, he’d screwed up his face as if willing himself to cry, to feel something. Richie cried enough for the both of them.

A few days later, it was a lazy Sunday, and Richie is listening to a local Scottish radio station sat out on the porch with Eddie in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know what everyone else’s plans are for the afternoon, but I’m off to have a lovely roast dinner!” the radio host announces, before signing off for the day.

“Oh, I do miss a roast dinner” Eddie announces wistfully, rubbing at his stomach comically.

“What’s a roast dinner?”

“You’ve never had a roast dinner?!”

“Uh… no? Should I have? What is it?”

Eddie abruptly stands up, and walks back into the house, listing off all the components of a roast dinner as he walks. When they get to the kitchen, Eddie marches straight over to the fridge and, without opening it, sticks his head right through the door, before also sticking his left hand straight through the metal, as if the fridge was not a solid object at all. Richie is sure that there will never be a day that he doesn’t find that unbelievably funny.

“You have all the vegetables, but the only meat you have is … this!” Eddie pulls his head back through the fridge door, looking at his hand triumphantly, only to find that his hand is empty.

“I keep forgetting I cannot move things through other solid objects” Eddie deadpans, smacking his forehead in embarrassment.

Richie cackles at him, before moving to open the fridge himself, and seeing a lonely looking peperami lying on the bottom of the fridge. With Eddie’s help, Richie manages to cook the roast dinner without too much issue. The only time Eddie screeches at him is when he pours way too much oil into the roasting pan for the potatoes, but that issue is quickly rectified. After a few hours, the meal is prepared, and Richie plates up feeling overwhelmingly guilty that Eddie can’t share in the meal that he helped to prepare. Eddie assures him that he doesn’t miss eating that much, and ushers Richie into the dining room, where the new dining table stands proudly in the middle of the room. Richie places his plate on the table, before realising that he’d forgotten cutlery and a glass of water. Eddie, who had been standing behind his chair, follows him into the kitchen, walking straight through the table, and babbling nonsense about how Richie was about to experience something truly magical.

When Richie returned to the dining table, he found that his food was now burnt beyond recognition, the fresh vegetables that had been lying on his plate mere seconds ago now transformed into a smoky black sludge.

“What in God’s name …” Richie muttered, staring at the burnt food in disbelief as the cutlery slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Richie looks at Eddie, then back to the ruined food on his plate, then back to Eddie. Without saying anything, he ran back into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of broccoli, before charging back into the living room and throwing the broccoli directly at Eddie’s head.

The broccoli fell to the floor.

Or, more accurately, the broccoli that was now a black, burnt sludge fell to the floor.

“For fucks sake!”

– X –

Richie stays up late that night, sleepy eyes glued to his computer, scrolling through useless website after useless website before he lands on the first thing that looks even remotely promising 16 pages into the google search.

Stanley Uris – Corporeal Reanimator

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ghost au #property developer au #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #ao3 #thefutureisbright

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katehuntington · 5 years

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How You & I Will Be - part five (finale)

Fandom: Supernatural Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader Serie summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Part 5 warnings: angst, severe anxiety, nightmares, hallucinations, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death. Some fluff. Music: ‘Lullabye’ by Billy Joel Word Count: 2154 words Author’s note: This is it, folks. The end of my mini series, and what a pleasure it was. Thank you @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier for helping we work on this, you both are wonderful betas. Fair warning when you proceed: I managed to move them both to tears. @littlegreenplasticsoldier even made clear that I will have to hire someone to do my obit at my funeral, because I will have no friends left after this.

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

It turns out Y/N has a little more time on her side than they initially thought. Not that she will be able to remember much, since she laid in Dean’s arms unconscious most of the time, but somehow the huntress has made it till sunrise. Despite her brave attempt, her condition deteriorates with every minute that passes. During the hallucinations, Dean pulled her into his lap, holding the girl he loves with everything he’s got, like he would comfort an infant. The acid trip-like dreams had her in confusion and all he could do to sooth her, cradling her gently, whispering sweet words and promises.

The nightmares seem to have passed now, setting in a new stage that is just as ominous. She has been unresponsive for quite a while, as if she has drifted off into a coma. It feels as if she’s slipping through his fingers like desert sand and there’s nothing he can do about it. Sometimes it takes over twenty seconds for her to breathe in again, which is only a weak gasp for air. Between those inhales Dean keeps her close to his chest, begging silently for her to take another breath, to stay a little longer.

Red ashes have turned into grey charcoal overnight, causing the temperature in the cabin to drop. Now Dean’s leather jacket is the only item that can provide her some warmth; even if there were wood left, he wouldn’t let her go to restart the fire. The storm has passed quickly and it wouldn’t surprise Dean if it was the work of that witch that owed Bobby. The rescue-team was supposed to start their climb at the break of dawn; they are probably well on their way, now that the first rays of sun peek over the ridge, watercoloring the sky with pink and purple. The mountaintop of Glacier Peak is outlined with gold that glows ever brighter as the sun comes up. It’s a beautiful sight, one that Dean enjoys intently, aware that these will be the final moments he’ll have with his girl.

When the sunshine spreads a warmth in the cabin, illuminating the fibers of dust that float in the air surrounding them, Y/N opens her eyes slightly without Dean noticing it. The scenery outside captivates her. The view looks more like a painting from Leonid Afremov than it would seem like reality, and for a second she wonders if she’s hallucinating again. But when she observes Dean, who admires the spectacular scenery as well, she guesses it’s nature’s way of saying goodbye.

“Well…” she rustles, words coming out raspy. “If that isn’t the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen….”

Stunned, Dean looks down at her. He honestly didn’t expect her to ever open her eyes again, but here she is. A moment of clarity. God, it’s nice to hear the sound of her voice again, despite it not being more than a weak whisper. “Hey, you,” he returns, smiling down. She smiles back, glad to be able to gaze up into those depthless green eyes once more. He lovingly strokes some wayward hair from her forehead, and places a tender kiss on her skin. Embracing the moment, she closes her eyes and sighs as her grin reaches wider. When he pulls back and witnesses the satisfied expression on her face, he suddenly notices the difference; she’s made peace with her fate. It scares him deeply, he isn’t anywhere close to prepared for her coming death. “You wouldn’t be able to squeeze out a few more hours by any chance?” he pleads. “The rescue workers are on their way.” For a moment she opens her eyes again, clearly worn out by the fight for life. She swallows with difficulty and lets the air escape from her lips, finding it harder to inhale every time she does so. “I’m so tired, Dean….” Her voice fails, but he heard her. The hunter nods slowly, accepting the true message behind her words. The fight is over. She’s lowered her weapons. With difficulty, he gulps, trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. After all, he has to be strong for her.

But she’s no fool; she can see right through it. Y/N knows how hurt he is, how he’s trying so hard to prevent himself from caving. She might be okay with the fact that her hour has struck, he can’t say the same. The thought of letting her go causes the tears to pool in his eyes. “Hey… It’s alright,” she tries to comfort him. He scoffs, amazed by her urge to care for him, even now. He manages a quivering breath. “I should be telling you that.” “I’m not the one who’s about to be left behind, am I?” she reminds him.

It’s a solid point. Who knows where she might drift off to. Heaven, the light, whatever one would want to believe. Dean will remain right here, on this spot of land without her. “What do you think is gonna happen next?” he wonders out loud. “Lights out and that’s it?” “Hell, no,” she chuckles, having found a little more spirit to strengthen her words. “It’s gonna be either Vegas or Hawaii. I haven’t decided yet.” Dean scoffs through the tears, imagining it for a moment. He hopes she’s right, it makes the idea of dying a little less terrifying. “Maybe my heaven will be driving down the road towards the sunset in the Impala, backseat to myself…” she continues on a serious note. “Maybe it’s this, this moment right here with you. This view.”

Dean follows her thousand-yard stare through the window that portrays the colorful picture outside. As the sun rises further, it casts an golden light over the snowy mountains, and Y/N takes a moment to count her blessings. Sure, she wishes she would’ve had more time, but it isn’t the worse way to go. The man she gave her heart to is holding her close and they got the chance to spend their final moments together. The man who told her: I love you. The man she told: I love you, too. It’s not that bad, actually. “Promise me something?” He turns to face her again, waiting for a follow up. Trying to speak, her voice hitches in her throat as breathing becomes more difficult. Her fragile state indicates it won’t take long now. “Promise you’ll let your friends and family help you. Promise you’ll talk to Sam. Don’t bottle it up this time, okay?” The pressure on Dean’s chest becomes so heavy that his airway constricts. He is able to keep a hold of her questioning gaze, though. “I promise,” he assures, choking up. “And no deals,” she continues. “I know you’ve been thinking it.” “Y/N -” But she won’t have it and interrupts his attempt to object instantly. “No, Dean. I don’t want you to get torn up by those hounds. If you make a deal, you’ll go to hell,” she pauses to catch her breath. “And where I’m going… It’s not a bad place.” Dean sighs after a moment’s consideration, trying to blink away his tears as he admits to her conditions with a nod. “Alright.”

She smiles slightly, glad to have his word and relieved that she got the message across. It remains quiet for a couple of minutes as her respiration slows down even further, taking down her pulse as well. Scared, Dean holds his love, watching her subside, further and further away from him. “Dean?” His name is barely audible, it’s more of a breath than her voice. “Yeah?” She forces her eyes open, taking in the hunter above her. For the first time since last night, tears stain her beautiful eyes. Dean knows exactly what she’s trying to capture, because he’s trying to accomplish the same. He takes her in, every feature, every perfect flaw. A few lost birthmarks that decorate her face and neck. That scar on her chin that she always tries to cover up with a scarf or the collar of her jacket. The slight frizz in the lock of hair that she cusses about whenever it’s rainy or windy. And damn, those eyes, those gorgeous eyes. “I-I think it’s time….” she stammers weak.

She’s might be okay with dying, that doesn’t mean that she isn’t scared of what lays ahead. Of course she’s terrified, who wouldn’t be scared of the unknown? Vampires, ghosts, demons; she faced them all. But with every single monster she came across, she knew a way to defeat them. Never, ever, did she show up for a fight unprepared. At the verge of battle she was armed with a weapon of choice, if it was silver, salt, dead man’s blood or the Colt. She knew her opponent, she did her research, she read the lore. But she can fantasize about casinos or white sandy beaches all she wants, the truth is that nothing can prepare anyone for what awaits on the other side. “It’s alright, Y/N. I’ve got you,” Dean comforts, pulling her even closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise.” She cries against his chest silently, wheezing every time she tries to inhale. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest as hers will stop any moment now. “Y-you know what my mom’s favorite song was… to sing to me?” she whispers, referring to their talk days ago, about music and songs sang by their mothers. “It was Lullabye... Billy Joel… She always sang Lullabye.” “It’s a good song,” Dean gets out with difficulty. “It is,” you smile into his shirt, before she softly whispers the first lines.

Goodnight, my angel Time to close your eyes And save these questions for another day

Dean joins in with her, cradling his dying girl to the rhythm of the song. The melody somehow makes it easier to pronounce the words.

I think I know what you've been asking me I think you know what I've been trying to say I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know Wherever you may go, no matter where you are I never will be far away

She lets Dean take over the vocals completely, listening to his emotional yet clear voice. It hushes her into a deep sleep from which she will never wake again. Slowly Y/N sinks further into the depths of unconsciousness. But she can still hear him, she can still hear Dean. Scientists have proved that the sense of hearing is the last one to perish when a person dies. Seems like they are right.

Goodnight, my angel Now it's time to sleep And still so many things I want to say Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went…

He stops mid-sentence, waiting for some kind of response from Y/N. A flinch, her chest rising, anything. But nothing happens. There’s no cloud of humid air coming from her lips, even the drum in her chest has stopped playing. When he lifts his chin off her head and loosens his grip on the woman in his arms slightly, he is able to behold the blank expression on her pretty face, eyes slightly opened, but her soul is gone.

“Y/N…?”

Shocked he stares at her as a lump obstructs his throat. A hole in his stomach grows larger when the harsh reality replaces his denial. Dean can’t prevent the tears from building up in his eyes and so he looks up, hoping that they won’t fall down, but they fall anyway. Unable to cope with the avalanche of sorrow that hits him like a freight train, his bottom lip starts to quiver and slowly he begins to move back and forth, mourning, as he presses her lifeless body against his.

He lost her. For a few moments she was his and now he’s lost her. He whispers her name in her hair, tells her he loves her once more and then again. God, he would give anything to see her react to those words, by throwing him that amazing smile. Softly he continues to sing the song. The earth turns and the sun shines its light on the both of them. His voice is shaking so badly that he has trouble getting anything out at all. Being able to hold and cradle her helps, and so he sets off again where her death caused him to pauze.

Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went sailing on an emerald bay And like a boat out on the ocean I'm rocking you to sleep The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart You'll always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone But lullabies go on and on They never die That's how you and I will be

The end, people. Thank you so much for reading my story. I appreciate every single one of you. If you would like to talk about this or if you need a grief-counselor, let me know. Feedback is very much appreciated.

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How You & I Will Be tag: @deanwnchstr @parkeret @professionalspnfangirl @tmiships4life

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