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rel124c41 · 7 months ago

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SUNDO. jade leech

This is the beginning: you walk into Osaka Bay, sound asleep. This is the end: you are dragged into Osaka Bay, wide awake … and screaming.

tags: japanese mythology & folklore, religious imagery & symbolism, yokai AU, attempted rape/non-con, inspired by Den lille Havfrue by Hans Christian Andersen, sleepwalking, yandere, blood and gore, immortality, declaration of love, did andersen want to fuck fish? i think so!

word count: 9,114

Timid, you step into the water.

Behind closed eyelids, the muscle and nerves of your eyeball flicker like insect wings. Your eyelashes may rest delicate in the closed oyster position but your eyeballs move alert underneath the thin skin.

By closing your eyes, it allows you to see a new world. Sight often blocks and trumps other sensations. With purpose, you narrow yourself to reflect upon the touch of a breeze, the sound of cicadas, and the shape of water embracing your ankles. You spread yourself out, imaging yourself in the wind, and then your eyes pulse under your eyelid skin.

You fly deeper into the lake with a yell of, “I see you!” And suddenly, you shrink down to the size of a six year old child from your adult body, missing your top left canine tooth and wearing a kimono pattern with abstract art of yellow squares and violet rectangles.

In the water, a boy laughs and says, “That can’t be true!”

“Yes it is!”

“But your eyes are closed!”

Eager hands squirm and dive through the water. Fingers reach out like hawk talons, squeezing unsqueezable water. In your hark of the earth, you hear the fierce splashes of you punching into the water to grab your friend. Laughing, you trip over yourself, falling breast first in water, managing to pick yourself up in time just as the lake licks at your throat. Three different voices laugh at you but you only hunt for one.

“I swear, I see you!”

“No way!”

In your attentiveness of your surroundings, you feel the smile that grows on your face. Water leaps up at your cheeks like sparks of a fire. When you laugh, salt slips in your mouth. Suddenly, you change angles and reach to your right instead of your left. The water there moves in a panic. Laughing, you bring up both your hands, readying to push them into the water.

The sun is warm. The water is cool. From the tree, in the breeze, thousands of leaves say in one voice, “My little Muyūbyō. My little sleepwalker. You are going too deep.”

“Mom?”

The hanging leaves are green and lush. “You’re going too deep, (Name).”

You wake up. The rainbow of ways one can wake up is endless and numerous. However, no one really considers waking up to be a varying, changeable state of things. Each unique rise into the waking realm differs slightly.

Today, you wake up like a crab has pinched firmly the tendon running down your upper hamstring. Today, you wake up shin-deep in the lake. Your mother is right. You are going too deep. The water usually stays up to your ankles. The sight greatly disturbs you and your hamstring tendon drums with the full body pain.

That boy. You wonder on the identity of that young boy. Why could you not catch him if you had him right in your sight? Your seeing varies often; sometimes the world is as clear as newly polished glass and other times you are trying to look through a looking glass that is grime and sand stained. His voice – his voice was almost as familiar as your mother's warning.

Eyes enucleated, you would always know your mother’s voice.

Backpedaling, you move and watch until the embrace around your legs slides down goosebumped skin and lies quivering around your ankles.

You look at the sunrise peering over the lake. Hinode starts the upward ascend, pink and orange light falling over the world. Water almost shimmers around your ankles with the welcome benevolence of the rising sun.

Yet with its welcome comes the banishment of the only company you have. Well, for the most part. Even the mischievous kappa, river spirits, will vanish with the sun. You look for them nonetheless, knowing you make sure to fall asleep with cucumbers in your nightwear; food for the yokai, just to certain their volatile hungers are quelled.

You —

You have always been able to see yokai.

Your parents have called you blessed because of it. As a sleepwalker, you are closer to the spirit world than the normal, spirit-blind citizens of the island Kyushu. Despite being blessed, your parents kept your habit of sleepwalking out of the village’s hippocampus — as they would surely see it as a mark of possession.

So much for parental precaution, you are already seen as the village’s resident boogeyman even without them knowing you move in nightly rest.

Perhaps it is a fault of your own.

Perhaps the blame lies on your parents.

You can pinpoint where it went wrong though. Since the incident, you have known you would be kindred to the boogeyman. Despite all the piling up evidence, there is no clearly given perpetrator. Who does the blame of the crime go to for being a boogeyman against one’s will? The crime of that day and then the crime of being yourself. You: eldritch evil in human clothings.

Sekia (the walking world) and ikai (the ‘other’ world), you walk between those and that is a crime.

You would never point the fingers at your God though. The very thought of it makes your stomach tighten like rope and you press your palms flat into your abdomen to resist the urge to puke. God, your last remaining parent.

Shinto is an indigenous faith in Japan but you are born of a time period far too back to even toy with the idea of calling it indigenous. Shinto believes that one is born fundamentally good but struggles with evil spirits. You are born with a mark of evil. Born bad, you defy the religion you preach, practice, and love as if it is an old friend.

Despite that, where you live is in a Shinto shrine, atop a mountain, by a lake.

And, with a frown blemishing your pretty face, you look behind, up at the mountain you have to climb to go home.

Behind the Shinto shrine is a clothesline for drying cottons and silks. It stretches, a pinned butterfly wing, from tree to tree. All that hangs from them is only wet at the bottom. You squeeze the bottom of the nightwear you put there the previous day. Still damp. Ah, if only the elevation was not so high up. This would dry up quicker if I was living off the mountain. It is April and spring is ushering in. Still, it is mildly cold at the isolated point where you live.

You do not think you could stomach the air down in the village. Thin air is all you know. Adapting to glutinous air would be like drowning on land, a paradox regarding your lungs. You pull your nightwear off the skin covering your twin lungs, one hand on each tomoerio of the yogi.

It gathers delicately around your hamstrings before you pull it around the crook of your elbow. Straightening it out, you add the damp fabric to the clothesline. One arm cupping your nude breasts, you compare the height of water to previous nightwear. There is slight discoloration, the bottom a dark gray and navy blue and the rest white and blue as cornflower.

You tense when you look down the clothesline. Finding by one by one that the height of damp decreases in a staircase pattern. It would make sense. Ones that have been on the clothesline longer would be less soaked. But you know better.

You have been going deeper. You have no idea why but you have been walking deeper into the lake.

When you were very young – on the journey to turn two years old in a month or so – you were found in the lake. Above, in the mountaintop, horrified, mournful screams stabbed the air. Your name – screamed with tears and fright in each letter – soared like a tengu bird. Sleeping upright, you were unaware until a hand grabbed you and wrenched you back into the world.

“(Name). Oh my, (Name), my baby!”

When your fretful mother realizes years later that you cannot stop sleepwalking, she only asks one thing of you: to not go deeper than your ankles. You claw at the softest on your chest to get your heart to stop pounding so fretful. Next time, you will reel yourself back before you disobey.

There are a hundred eyes peeking through the paper sliding doors and a trail of footsteps that are too petite to be yours trailing across the cypress wood floors of your home. These are curing images to your heart.

With a smile and hum, you trail a finger across the wall. Multiple eyes blink at the motion like a herd of butterfly wings twitching at a breeze. Leaving behind wet, much larger footprints, you walk through the Shinto shrine to your bedroom. It is time to dress for the arising sun. The sticky smell of stale sulfur and sea trails after you. The yokai of your father’s Shino shrine welcome this familiar scent.

You never had any childhood friends. Quite a desolate thought, yes? Not entirely for you. Never having childhood friends, you cannot sensibly yearn for it with a desperate longing or be saddened by the statement. You never had any childhood friends.

For some reason, you have false snippets of a sekai, a waking world, with a childhood friend with one sun eye and one moon eye. Blended between the realities like you are. And an odd shattered dream made by your hippocampus made of yearning you do not have.

Origami is today’s shared activity. With slices of colored paper the boy has gifted you, you take to folding them into numerous animals. Creasing paper between your fingers and pinching edges with your nails. You work diligently on yours, spine facing the mountain.

You squish down the snake-head-shape the paper has fallen into until you get the diamond you want. With a prideful smile, you continue, fold by fold. You pull bottom up and get an open mouth; when you push both edges inward, you get the squashed wings done, halfway there.

Spine facing the lake, your companion continues on with his. His nails are whetted like a cleaver so he gets preciser and cleaner edges with his origami. Despite the fact he could make something more challenging, his design is simpler and less complicated than yours. He is just finishing up the tail by folding the right corner of the tiny triangle into the middle.

“Azul’s been making a lot of frogs. He says each frog he makes is another coin his future self will soon have.”

“There must be a whole army of them by now then!”

“A militia is more appropriate. I worry one day he will find himself lying down in the grave he has made, drowning under washi paper. The folly of his want.” The boy says this with a facade’s frown; there is really no concern in his mannerisms.

“You say that like you aren’t greedy.”

“Hm … not for things like money, other things.”

You miss the way his eyes burn and shine because you are working on modeling the paper body of your animal. You enjoy your time spent with Jade, this fabricated friend your hippocampus made of the clay of your brain, dearly.

“Food?”

“Ah … well, I suppose that is one of the other things.”

“What else are you greedy for?” You cannot fathom that Jade wants anything more to eat. He is very gluttonous like his brother and octopus friend besides his lithe, feminine frame.

“For one thing –”

“Aha! Finished!”

Eager and proud, you hold up the origami animal. Your creases and folds are not too pristine but the product of effort is still majestic. A crane. The bird said to live a thousand years. “Pretty isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Let’s switch ours.” Your hands make a grab for the origami fish in Jade’s hands.

“But it is the first time you have been able to make a crane successfully. Most people want to keep milestones.” He cannot fathom why you are so eager to share. “The crane should stay with you.”

“But I want to share it with my best friend.”

You wake up like the clap of a baseball in a mitt. Your eyes fly open as the baseball is thrown with a resounding bark of fetch, soaring like an arrow and returning to the second glove. A consciousness thrown between two gloves. The left side of your face feels numb and medicated.The water is up to your shins again, disobedient. Backpedaling without hesitation, you scratch at the side of your face. It feels like a cluster of barnacles are weighing down west facing skin.

You yawn as the sun, the hinode, comes up. A thousand years. What a long time; you could never fathom living such an infinite amount of time. Salt and grime staining your nightwear, you step onto the shore. You would never want to live a thousand years like this.

Another never of yours? You never had any childhood friends.

There are no absolutes in Shinto.

“This is impossible,” you whisper.

“There are no absolutes,” a man replies.

Somehow and someway, you are being wedded. Done with your fruitless attempts to open your eyes, you resign to verbally negotiating your way out of this lucid dream. You have to get out of here but the water has hardened to cement around your legs. You are unsure if this is a fabricated dream, a fabricated memory of a fake world, or if this is the ‘other’ world. Unsure of where you tread, you desperately want the sun to break apart this nightmare.

That is impossible. I am a miko. A miko must be unmarried. I am my father’s helper and I cannot be wedded.

The man replies to your thoughts: That is not true. You are not a miko. The priest is dead. You can be wedded.

No. I cannot wed.

The white kosode kimono covers over your skin like a constant itch. Somehow and someway, without opening your eyes, you know that you are wearing wedding attire. You feel the distribution of another set of legs in the lake. There is an awful weight on your finger.

There are vows being spoken by a siren’s voice. A trickling scale on a piano voice. It feels oddly like you cannot create new memories. Your dreams and thoughts evaporate like trickling sand, stolen. Everything dwindles and moves away like retreating waves.

Do you relinquish your immortal soul to this man?

Do you?

“Yes.”

“My love, a snake is coming.”

You wake up, off-kilter. You fall immediately due to that poor balancing board provided by uneven rocks. With a gasp, your hands go out to catch you, splashes resounding as you kneel down in the water. Another fierce splash follows. You scream as you watch a mamushi dive into the water where you were standing.

“Aa-Agh,” you gasp as you scramble up. “AH!” The world feels like trickling sand, all cascading down around you. A stumbling body turns wildly as the snake attacks. It bites the air and jumps in the water.

Its venomous fangs however are directed at the rising sun. Protectively, it attacks air. The mamushi does not attack you or your retreating, repeatedly falling form. You do not remember what you had just dreamed, pink sunlight on your back.

The only evidence that the impossible happened are your fast, retreating footprints embedded into the shore. But even those washed away with the brine of water, trickling away, stolen.

Tiny footsteps litter the inside of your shrine. After so many years, the footprints have become an infestation comparable to cockroaches, a black sole and five dotting toes. Prints from a zashiki warashi, a ghost girl. They are only seen by children and the house’s owner, but they stay visible to you because you became the owner of the house when you stopped being a child.

Zashiki warashi are said to bring good fortune and be guardians of the house they inhabit. You have had no problems unlike the slight troubles you have had with the eyes in your home. However, a little otherworldly company does not bother you like human company.

Footprints unsourced from a tangible body and eyes unsourced from a tangible head. How odd that you have grown used to that.

You make sure to avoid stepping on the trails of footprints as you walk through the honden, the main sanctity. You notice that the ghost girl’s footprints seem to avoid the heart of the shrine. Behind a cupboard that is seldom opened lies your God, the heart, your last remaining parent. You pass the cupboard and make your way to a window.

You watch the sunrise, contemplative. Sunlight intrudes in long rectangles and breaks the steady zig-zag lines of the zashiki warashi’s footprints. You kneel, clothed in wet nightwear, feet damp.

You remember the day of your parents’ death. It was the only day you awoke in bed instead of ankle deep in water. Thinking you were cured, excitement fueled your feet to the entrance of your father and mother’s bedroom. Excitement skids and burns down to ash as you hold the paper sliding door open, looking upon an empty bed.

It took only a few minutes to find them because even a fool could have guessed where this would end.

For some unlucky reason, you never slipped when walking down the mountain to the lake. Your mother worried it would happen so often. The image of your foot kissing and missing the ground. Like a ram miscalculating his step, you would plummet in her mind, body crunching and breaking as it ping-ponged down a dangerous slope.

Throat thick with salvia, you find them with a terrified cry. You press yourself tightly into a tree, weeping and screaming your miserable mind’s woes into the sekia.

Below you, they lie. Bodies bent like a cluster of twigs snapped for a fireplace and flesh smudged with blood and dirt. Bones point out elbows and knees, breaking the blanket of skin. Wrists and ankles are turned in unnatural positions. Their eyes stare up at the morning sky, the lilac pinks and blue amber of the sunrise like a colorful coffin above them. Up there, their God.

The incident made you the village’s boogeyman. Even if you were the good priest's daughter, their little blessing, the only suspect left for the crime was you.

“You were so wrong. I am not a blessing.”

The window gives no reply. Done with the standoffish nature of the glass fixture, you stand up. The seaweed squishes under your feet, salt grinding into your soles.

“And I am sorry that you were wrong.”

Lakes do not carry seaweed like this.

There is a hand around my ankle.

You wake up. Not violently like the times where your dreams throw you and not softly like your dreams kiss your eyelids open. Instead, you wake up like you have already been awake. No disturbance. Miraculously, there is no disjoint between dreaming and waking. So there is no need to find your footing as you look down.

You and a garappa stare at each other. His yellow eyes blink up at you, flicking water. Skin fern green and dotted with a dalmatian pattern of dark forest green is mostly submerged underwater. The only part of him that rises above the water is his snout and the webbed thumbnail around your right ankle.

In your ribcage, your heart pounds hard like a frog moving to a lilypad before it settles completely. Your one heartbeat length terror came from a single thought: God, he is huge.

Garappas and kappas can only be told apart by size. A garappa has limbs much longer than its twin, stretching out twice the typical size of a kappa. His entire arm is equivalent to your leg. Dizzy eyes track over his lengthy form. If he stood up, the estimated height would be about nine feet.

Rocks may be under your feet but you feel like the ground is shifting sand, webbing itself through your reality. At least, the garappa seems to not be hostile right now. Who’s to say about later?

You look down at the hand embracing around your ankle. Distorted under the water, it looks like your ankle and his hand are off center from the goosebump flesh of your leg above water. Solid flesh, green contrasting to brown, ripples together in up and down motions. You are so dizzy.

Touch-taste senses are a peculiar faucet of aquatic life. Octopus can lay their suckers upon a prey and drink up the sweetness of fear like a butterfly with nectar. You wonder what kind of taste the garappa might be siphoning from cold pores.

“Foon foon foon.” The garappa says, mouth of his snout circling to form the soft Os.

You do not fool yourself into thinking that is a friendly sound.

Garappas are elusive and cowards. This male might have been biding his time waiting for weeks of your sleepwalking to know if you were a threat or friend. To be caught by him and his inhuman strength means this was premedicated. Garappas are extremely fond of pranks and mischief, this you remember.

But what are you forgetting?

“Foon foon foon,” he says again.

“Hoon, hoon, hoon,” you reply, trying to replicate the call of his.

His eyes squint at you from behind the waving mass of black hair. It trails across his face like seaweed but his bright yellow irises are easy to spot among the ebony. His hold on you readjusts slightly at the sound of your voice, not tightening or loosening, just twisting around the indents of where your fibula and tibia met like someone using a pepper crusher.

There is definitely intelligence in those golden suns but that is not really the cause of unease. The unease comes from his size; the image you paint of him standing up and crowding over you. His legs would perhaps end where your collarbone starts.

Please do not stand up. Please do not stand up.

You wonder back to your taste. Would the spice of fear be hidden in the dish of your normal taste or would the spice of fear be an overpowering burn? The heart kept in your chest is very calm. It is tranquil as a sheep, resting in the dropped palpitations of sleep. Perhaps this is still a dream.

Then, the garappa starts to pull. It is a light, hesitant tug. When you hold firm, toes curling up to press tighter into the rocks underfoot, he lets up. His hold goes back to being concrete, unmoving even though the dilating ripples of water suggest different. You and him lock eyes again.

Then, the streamlined face vanishes and you are looking up at a sky of stars. You gasp as water hugs the back of your cotton yogi. A rock cushions your skull’s rapid descent and you wince. The hand on your ankle tugs and tugs.

As if the harsh kiss of the rock breaks a spell, you finally remember what you were trying to recount about the mischievous, prank-loving garappas. You look over the valley of your body, clothed in blue yogi nightwear, the supine side of you soaking wet, remembering. Garappas are known to be sexually aggressive.

“DAMNIT!”

Your arms move fast, grabbing at the sand and rock beside your chest, trying to lift yourself up. A fearful cry escapes you as the next tug disorients your arms and causes you to spill deeper into the lake. You watch wide-eyed as a webbed hand peels back the left side of your nightwear.

“Cut it out! Get off me! Get off!”

Ripples of water jump around your struggling form. You were correct about his measurements. The entire arm is the size of your leg. He trails it up past the gray and blue camellia sewn on your garment. You scream as you feel the touch of soft tissue of webbed fingers on your inner thigh.

A lucid part of you thinks the taste of your fear must be explosive.

You twist violently in the oppressing grip like a fish caught in a net. Chilled fingers grab at rocks around you, trying to pull yourself up onto shore. Your free leg kicks at the shoulder of the garrapa. Warmth blooms on your face when you are dragged again and a cut from ear to cheek is birthed.

“Get the fuck off!” You scream as loud as a banshee. Around you, summer cicadas answer your cry with their own melody and you hear a foon foon foon, almost like a laugh bubbling under the water.

And, just as webbed fingers hover over the apple of your sex, the world falls still and silent. Even the everlasting cicadas stop for the only time in their life. In the bubble of unreal quiet, you stare over your body at the hand dug into the skull of the garrapa.

The piscine hand is the color of tooth white. The knuckles are gradients of green bleeding off into an ebony black. You can tell because the only part of the hand that is not sunk into the garappa’s skull is a single thumb. The thumbnail is sharp as a knife, pressed in the mass of black hair. The arm trails down the neck and back of the garrapa and is indistinguishable under the black water.

You watch the garappa twitch. Still alive despite the four fingers bayonet through his head. His golden sun eyes stare at you as his hand moves down and wraps itself around your lower thigh. He squeezes hard as the four fingers press down, pull out, and press down once again, almost sensually erotic in their motions.

“Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo.”

You watch pleased as a trail of blood runs down the streamlined snout. Good. Die; never swim again; die-die-die!

Your respite is short lived as you are suddenly pulled down. A terrified cry rockets out of your throat. The hand burrow in the garrapa’s head stops in its descent back into black water, contemplative. The alive yet rigor-mortis grip is desperate and relentless on your thigh.

“Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo.” The dying garrapa coos like the cicadas chirp. If I go down, I will take you with me.

His circular mouth falls still, an empty O. You watch as red rushes up in an inking squirt to the surface of the night lake. Then, with a breakneck speed, the garappa and pearl white hand disappear. The now blood-stained water rises and moves like scales as their interlocked bodies go under without another word.

The cicadas start to make noise again. The marble surface of the lake reshape back into its flat, glossy appearance. Just a different color. On trembling arms, you start to shift yourself to sit with your posture up straight.

You glance down at the purling motions of your yogi. Under the cotton lies the amputated hand, torn at the shoulder, and now stuck on your thigh in true rigor-mortis. Mind blanking, you stand back up, ankle deep in red water.

Latched garrapa arm swinging between your legs like a front facing tail, you walk out of the lake, soaking wet all over.

You scrape yourself up the summit like a stubborn earthworm. Shaking hands grab familiar tree branches to hoist yourself. Frost-nibbled feet press hard into sediment to keep yourself up. At the top of the summit, just outside your home, the two lanterns of the entrance are lit. You shake harder and shiver harder with the cold.

The lake is on the backside of the shrine, so you slowly round the building. Inch by inch, more of the entrance is revealed to you beyond the thumping glow of lanterns. Two stone lion-dogs, komainu, guard protectively under the gold. The long tongue entrance grows with each hesitant step you take. Resting your hand on the Shinto shrine, you look towards the offering hall.

A man with silver hair kneels, hands clasped in prayer. His cheeks are tinted a pink from the chill of morning.

“I am not taking prayers at this time, Sir. Please return another day.”

The man does not startle at your voice in the same capacity that you startled at the sight of him. His words erode in his mouth before a smile pulls up his lips. You think his eyes are blue. It is hard to tell with glass obscuring them. He is wearing spectacles that look like the melted pattern of a tortoise shell.

“I did not know God was on a schedule. I suppose I can see why. The importance of transactions, why, those can keep someone quite occupied. I am a bit disheartened to see my deal is not worth His time.” The man’s smile is sympathetic like he knows you are suffering.

You grimace at your slip-up. Wanting to be inside, you round around the front porch area so you can meet with him at the entrance. You wonder what he must think of you, soaking wet, leaving behind puddles. “I’m terribly sorry, Sir. You may continue. I cannot offer the services of a Shinto shrine today however. My deepest apologies.” You bow.

“It is no worries. I just came to check if you were okay and make certain that you are.”

“If I’m,” your eyes flicker up in confusion. Straightening, you imagine your face must be the face of confusion like you are a spirit-blind person seeing yokai for the first time. Why would anyone? Does he not know you as the village boogeyman, someone that no one would dare check upon. “I’m quite fine, Sir.”

“Certain?”

“Certainly.”

The silver-haired man seems very pleased at that. Enough to the point where he stands up. Gratitude fills your lungs, almost relieving yourself of the chill. You hate that this is the first human interaction you have had in years and you are so happy to see it be gone.

Maybe you should try to be hospitable. That thought dies as you watch the man. Why, that is really curious – “Sir?”

“Yes?” His tone is acquiescent.

“The direction to the village is that way.” You point past the torii gate and the two guardian lions. He had been rounding the front porch, walking in the damp footsteps you had left behind. The man blushes an even heavier pink at that.

“Ah, my apologies,” he amends sheepishly. He stalks towards you and you wholeheartedly expect him to slip past. Instead, his presence surprises you for a second time. He grabs your salt encrusted hands and holds them dearly. “I am glad to see you in good health.”

You blank at the touch of his hands and go completely vacant at his sincere words. Like a stuttering fish, your lips move up and down wordlessly. Where did that even come from? “Do I know you?”

“I’m afraid not, godfather.”

He squeezes your hands and lets go. His spectacles are a beautiful pattern. The strange man walks off, towards the village, but his gait makes it look like he is walking in the wrong direction. You watch him until he vanishes into nothing. To make certain that he leaves.

Shaking and clenching your hands to get the blood-flow back to them, you enter the shrine. There are no armies of footprints waiting to greet you. You grow colder.

You are hot to the touch.

After such a grievous experience, you develop a fever as May births herself into the world, stabbing April to death. It lasts for a week longer than a normal fever should. Having to climb back up a mountain for an hour each morning is not any aid to the medicinal herbs you take. And now, when you want to rest, you cannot even do that.

You have already taken the bath salts. Inhaling the cathinone crystals, you walk from one end of the shrine to the other end like the ghost of a sailor haunting/walking a shoreline. You sniffle each time you feel the tickle of the drugs in your nose. Walk. Walk. Walk. Do not fall asleep no matter what.

Tonight is hyakki yagyo, because of course the night parade of one hundred demons falls upon the night you want to gain any semblance of rest after debilitating illness. The parades are inauspicious and untrackable.

The hordes of eyes in your walls watch you walk, relatively close to make indents into the flooring by method of your repetitive pacing. Mokumokuren, that is what the eyes in your walls are, an infestation yokai. They take a fancy to inviting in other yokai instead of protecting as the little girl does … did.

You can not risk going outside because of the yokai parade. Thus, due to your sleepwalking, you absolutely cannot fall asleep. People foolish enough to go outside during a hyakki yagyo or peek through their windows are killed or spirited away. It is considered divine punishment for looking upon that which must not be seen.

I have been looking upon yokai since my birth, would this parade really harm me? You never bother to test the floating theory, leaving it to trickle away until the next hyakki yagyo commences the following month. However —

“PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME! SOMEONE LET ME IN!”

You have never had someone pleading at your door on a night like this. The horde of eyes watch as you consider the bottle of drugs in your nightwear pocket. You only inhale the crystals to stay alert and awake during night but they do cause hallucinations.

“One of your friends,” you ask the cluster of eyes peering through a Swiss cheese wall. One blinks a wet, sticky eye at your question. Then all of them blink when the stranger outside your door starts pounding on the front door.

You hold your hands over your breasts anxiously. Inside the bottle, your drugs gleam like coarse Himiylaian sea salt under the one eye made of light. The lantern is your only company, you remind yourself, not a human or a yokai.

You are alone and will remain alone until death.

It is probably an onmoraki at the door. A bird-like monster who has a talent for mimicking human voices. Onmorkai appear near temples, particularly in the presence of neglectful priests. It is almost too predictable of the yokai. Impiety needs no originality as all the old tricks have always worked.

You wish someone was here but you cannot remember their name. But you have always been alone?

Before you know it, your hand is opening the door. You stare down at the flesh like it is a foreign parasite, like a person stares at a leech after removing a limb from black lake water. When did you even – Why is your memory like this – Before you know, a sun and moon eye are staring down at you.

“Godfather! Priest!” You blank at the stranger’s jovial voice, completely singing a different tone when compared to his previous fright. He is frighteningly tall. “Oh thank God, you are here.” The man laughs. And with a flourish, he steps inside your shrine.

“I – I –”

“Good priest,” you blank when the man gets on his knees. He grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly, holding them over the ring of his teal hair. “I am indebted to you. I swear I was almost killed because of those yokai. A garrapa came from the lake and tried to –”

“A-A garrapa?”

“Yes, good priest, but thanks to –”

You slam the door shut, wrenching your hands from the man. Slamming the door with the man now inside the shrine. Quickly, you turn and start to look for the materials to make a protective talisman.

You miss the grin curling on your guest’s lips.“Not a fan of yokai, godfather?”

The tone used this time is soft and worrying. You turn at the volatile changes of his voice. The man still kneels on the ground, downturned eyes following your movements. He is frowning sympathetically at you.

“Yokai – why I –”

“I’m not. Awful spirits. Killed my twin.”

“I can’t –” you trail off as you search the wooden box in the honden frantically. An honorific fuda should be in here — and — and you have bottles of ink inside your bedroom right! Just a simple protective ward to keep yokai out. You might miss the company of the eyes but you will make those sacrifices. A human hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it up from the mouth of the wooden box before you can grasp the card plate.

“Ya didn’t answer my question. Not a big fan of yokai?” There he goes, switching his tone again. This time is deadly like he is barely concealing a thousand years of bottled up rage.

“I –” You fumble with your words, feeling akin to a child being scolded. Is it psychosis from the bath salts or are you losing your mind – this feeling is so – his eyes are so familiar but also completely alien. “Just garrapas. I can’t with garrapas.”

My best friend’s a yokai. You think but do not vocalize it. Because it is a false thought caused by the bath salts and a faulty memory.

He brightens up. “That’s good! That’s really good, priest. I just wanna check.”

“I’m so-sorry about being so erratic. I just —“

“A talisman. Don’t worry, I’ll help! My name’s Floyd, godfather!”

Your new acquaintance seems eager to leave minutes before the first fingers of pink and orange peer over the horizon. After calming down, the two of you shared tea and refused to look out the windows due to the parade. He is an eager talker, not letting conversation fall still at all. He talks like he has been wanting to talk to you forever. You are glad he wants to leave early despite the parade. A good priest would advise against it but you want him gone.

Something about interacting with him is familiar yet alien.

Cobalt skies turning more cerulean, you and Floyd take to walking outside. As he busies himself with petting your stone lion-dogs smugly, you carry a torch. Dark still lingers with hesitation. You banish a bit of it by lighting the torches by the torii gate. Orange dances on the ground like a wagging wave.

Blanketed by shadows, you turn to look up at Floyd, standing behind you as you lit the last lantern. He is staring up at the gate.

“Are you sure you will be alright leaving a whole hour before sunrise,” you contradict your own agenda with your words.

“Yeah, got to go check on my brother. Make sure he ain’t messin’ anything up.”

Wasn’t his brother killed? The orange from the second lantern dances like a snake. “Sir,” you hesitate when his eyes descend from the gate to you. “Do we know each other?”

“Course, little priest, I just spent all hyakki yagyo talkin’ with ya! Ahehe!” Then happily, the man walks off, down past the torii gate.

Inside the two lanterns, the fire stirs with his departure, locked in a swaying dance.

The fire goes up like a mountain-climber. Wall to wall, it ascends like a sticky hand falling in reverse. In amber and scarlet waves, it weasels through the holes in the sliding doors and eats up the structure like a caterpillar on a leaf. Hypnotic and great, the fire acids through more and more of the Shinto shrine’s stomach.

You cannot live here anymore. You have known for a while these religious bowels held you in a painful kidney stone.

Raising up the torch, you kiss it to the main scanatary’s wall and watch all the wood smolder. Man-made clouds of gray lie heavy on the ceiling, the finely tuned acoustics of the building rumbling with the crackles and pops. Onward, you move until you reach the heart of this system. The cupboard where the sacred object, cloaked in cloth like a newborn, represents your God.

You have no idea what the object could be. Your parents died before you turned sixteen and thus you never got to learn what the yorishiro, the sacred object, is. It could be a single comb or a paper crane or a child’s shoe.

It does not matter when you raise up the torch, holding the flames so they may embrace the cupboard’s two doors. You hold it until fire successfully transfers. Then, as destruction curls over the piety, you leave the heart, walking down the vertebrates, until you reach the anus.

Behind you, the Shinto shrine burns. In front of you, you see nothing as your eyes are as blind as two spider-eggs, glossed and webbed over. You feel the earth distinctively however, water undertows and rough sediment.

The fire, blindingly bright and energetic, speaks. “Good priest, you have done well. The night is near its end.”

You wake up. You wake up like someone has driven a knife into your heart.

Coupled with a pained groan, your eyelashes flutter open. The pain in your chest is defibrillating and runs over your shoulders with a hot white electric current. It feels so unique and so awful. Rapidly, you shove your hand into your yogi and touch over the layer of skin. Your heart hammers against the skin like a woodpecker.

“Oh my God,” you groan, spit running off your lips from the excruciating pain. Coughing around the phlegm, you press your hand hard into your skin, hoping pressure would mimic the job of a tourniquet. Your heart remains relentless.

More spit runs off your bottom lip like a long, opaque slug. He stretches and plops into the lake around your waist. Bile will not be summoned so you settle with fruitlessly spitting into the lake, groaning in pain. Phlegm hangs like snot on your lip as you look up, expecting to see golden sun-rays that will cure you.

Before you stand a man.

Those features seem too feminine to make him a man. His thin, cupid bow lips are just a bit too delicate to be a man’s. It looks like his skin is breathing marble and pearl. Monolids and upturned, his eyes are alluring as a concubine. A sun and a moon eye, shining with something indescribable when the two of you make eye contact. Is that genuine love in his womanly eyes?

“Who … Who are you? Why do I?” His eyes are distantly familiar yet juxtaposingly alien to you. Your vision blurs and his face shrinks and distorts, causing his eyes to overlap into an eclipse. Blinking and spitting, you clear your head. “Why do I know your face?”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” For a second, you think him narcissistic until he says, “The omagatoki tonight is beautiful.”

A sudden chill causes your hairs to stand on end. Those dueling eyes seem to brighten in the pitch black dark. If he were any further from you, it would be impossible to see him. He too stands waist deep in the lake with you, many inches taller than yourself.

The sudden acknowledgement of existing as prey washes over you. “It’s omagatoki already?” Of course it is. The moon lies behind the man like a dot engulfing a canvas. You blink your eyes thrice as if there is a plastic filter cutting into them.

How did you not notice the telltale signs: cold wind blowing, the strange scent in the air like fish or blood, a sudden chill that causes one’s hairs to stand on end. It is as dark as if you were an explorer in the deep sea. It is omagatoki; how have you not noticed?

The spirit realm is so active around you.

“Who are you,” you ask again, full of questions.

“Me? Why, I am wounded that you do not recognize me. That would be like if I asked you: who are you? Who are you, (Name)?” You stay silent. “A niiyomjei perhaps?” A newlywed bride, he coos.

“I am no yamahime.”

A filthy yamahime is a mountain princess, but they are alternatively called mountain woman or newlywed bride. In a rare pleasure of luck, you have only encountered a yamahime once despite spending your entire life sharing the same home as them: the mountains.

You remember standing guard in front of the Shinto shrine, on the cusp of your thirteenth birthday, arms folded as the yamahime laughed and laughed. The laugh of a mountain princess is a lethal poison, those who hear are either dead or driven mad. Blood snailing down your ears, you stood her down for a sleepless night, refusing to let harm to befall either mother or father.

“Do not call me such a word.” You spit like a cobra at the man.

“My apologies, I misjudged that such a pretty woman as yourself would be honored at the comparison. I would never think to lessen your humanity down to a yokai. Though, why, I have always thought of you as the mountain princess you are.”

The moon backdrops on his body like a halo. All his features are dark besides his eyes and the outline of him pressed tight to the glowing night sun. “And, a newlywed bride? That is a true statement by all measures.”

“I am no bride. I am my father’s shrine maiden – a miko.” Mikos must remain unmarried to help out in a Shinto shrine. Coupled by your isolation, that question seems world-breaking insanity. This man is ridiculous.

But you are no longer a miko. You graduated when you made two graves; you are a priest. A Shinto priest – man or woman – is allowed to marry and have children. This is all insanity.

The man puts his hand to his mouth, closing his eyes and frowning delicately into his fist as if that statement is a physical injury to him. “Come now, (Name),” his moon and sun eyes shine like beetles when he opens them, “the priest is dead. Your father is dead. And you will find that your own priesthood is no longer required.”

“As long as there is a shrine, I’m needed.” The water around you is wrong and peculiar. Weightless and nebulous water clings up your thighs, ending an inch below your belly-button. You have to get back to your ankles. You do not want to cause anyone to worry that you have gone too far in.

“There are guests up there. You really should not disturb their prayers,” the man says as you start to turn, barely making it ninety degrees.

“I am the shrine’s priest, it will be fine.”

“They should go undisturbed; it will only take a moment. They want to explore the shrine inside too. Talk with me some more, bride.”

You ignore that word, unpausing your body. Your yogi floats around like a giant jellyfish cape and you must leave. “No one can get into the shrine, even if it is omagatoki. They would be banished. The yokai of the shrine would recognize a stranger.”

“Only by scent. And you smell like salt water every morning. It is safe to say my brother and boss can continue their prayers unaided and uninterrupted.”

The man, padding through water as he walks over to you, gently takes your left face in the cradle of his webbed hand. His features may be human but you can feel the slime as it sticks. The bone white of his palm almost glows under moonlight. With soft eyebrows, he looks upon you with idolization.

“Why do I know your face?”

As serious as a grave, he says, “I was there. In your dreams. And even when they weren’t dreams, I was still there.”

Each innard organ of yours stirs like a bed of worms at his exigent tone. “Yo .. You’re a umi nyobo … no, a umi no otto.” A sea wife, but then you correct yourself, a sea husband. His features might be delicate but his voice is entirely a man’s. You remember two things about them. Very strong. Very dangerous.

You jerk your head away from the hold of a piscine hand. Frantic, you twist your body away to get back up shore, to lower the embrace the lake has over your body back down to your ankles. You make it only one step before you stop. Eyes facing the mountain, you stare in horror.

Beyond the summit, between the armies of trees, a thick plume of smoke rises up and points it black fingers up to the twilight hours.

Fumbling with your mind, you are drawn back to the present as the man attacks you. He wraps his arms like chains around your waist, pinning your arms. Water stirs around the bottom of the contact. The world tilts as he suddenly pushes you down. Water floods into the front of your yogi, spilling down between your breasts. You fight to be upward and he allows it, leaning his body over you in an acute angle. Water comes to a respite.

Both of you fall still, your chest heaving heavy. He presses his flat chest to your spine. The left side of his face lands on top of the crown of your head. For a minute, you two stay statue-like.

“If you can remember my face and species then you must know my name.”

“I do not,” clenched teeth grit together. “I do not know you,” you deny.

“Yes, you do. We grew up together. You were my only friend. I was your only friend. I gave you a fish to keep you in good health and you gave me a crane in the promise of our life together. As a child, we do things unclouded by hesitation. Don’t you remember that?”

“I was only a child. I had no way to understand that,” you bargain.

“But you participated in our wedlock as an adult. Just a month ago, at night, didn’t you?”

“I can’t remember.”

“I will help you remember. All your dreams and all your thoughts, they will be ours.” A piscine hand carefully picks up wet tendrils of hair from the humid skin of your body. He tucks it behind your ear where cold sweat accumulates. “I’ve only thought and dreamed of you, (Name). I only ever wanted to share an eternal life with you by my side.”

“That’s impossible,” you shiver when he draws a claw over the bridge of the bone in your ear, down to the lobe. “Yokai and humans live in different worlds. The sekai and ikai can’t –”

“I know. I know but you promised. You promised to share that immortal soul humans have with me; the immortal soul that yokai lack. I will be turning you into an umi bozu.”

Umi bōzu … a sea priest.

You have never seen one; you never want to see and much less want to become one. They may look humanoid but they are truly a monstrous sight. Shoulders and a head rising and appearing from rough, killing waves. Giants. Umi bōzu are as tall as a coastal redwood tree, incomprehensible in size. More fearsome than a whale to a sailor and more dangerous than a plague to a newborn. Black as shadow with bulbous, white-blue eyes, umi bōzu are titans of mystery.

Some believe they are the progenitors of the sea and others … believe they come from drowned priests. You watch the smoke move serpentine into the skies. You are almost grateful for the rough, constituting grip because you feel you are going to pass out with the thought of becoming one of those behemoth sea monks.

“I’ll – I’ll wake up. The sun isn’t up. I still have time to wake up.”

There is no way that fire is real. And even if it is real, it is not made by your hands – his brother and his boss –

“You say that the yokai of your shrine would vanish my brother and boss, but you forgot that those eyes are a sign of infestation. Mokumokumen invite other yokai in. You knew that and left them alone to watch you. It is almost like you were waiting for this … the consummation of our marriage. How duplicitous you are.”

“Jade. Jade, wake me up right now.”

His face splits apart in a smile unseen. He knew you remembered.

“You are awake, my wife. You are.”

It is almost disorienting how calm the water is. You feel like a riptide is tearing you up and throwing you left and right. Around your sandwiched waists, you and Jade stand in completely still waters. The current fluidly pushes at your legs but it is like a docile comfort. All is calming and accepting except for yourself. In the air, the scent of blood and fish swims with the breeze.

“Don’t you see that I love you? That I have only cared and protected you. That one garrapa, you must remember that,” you jolt at the reminder. “Though I am a bit sad to learn you remember him so well, you must remember the end of it too. I even sent my boss to make sure you would be in good health. (Name)?”

You see it clearly: your body distorted into a giant as tall as the Great Wall of China is long, a nebulous black form of head and shoulders surrounded by turbulent waves as a tiny ship is thrown left and right with the force of your existence. A ship carrying twenty plus men comparable to a rubber duck in a child’s tub.

You cannot become that monster. You cannot become an umi bōzu. Please God please.

Feverish, you chant Norito, a Shinto prayer only said by Shinto priests. It is a prayer to God to prevent bad things from happening. The words fly off your lips like a flight of birds taking off. You feel like your mind is an empty cavern.

Lord, give me one more chance.

“I really wish this could precede differently; your tender disposition is something I do not wish to upset.”

“God, help me,” you cry.

Jade listens to your tongue wag like it is the sound of a babbling brook. “The shrine is ash, dear.”

Waiting a minute longer, the sea husband grabs your face with his webbed hand. The last of your prayer is whispered as he tilts you to look at him, backdropped by the mammoth moon. His sun and moon eyes shine. “I have waited long enough. Let us start our honeymoon. Let us say goodbye to the sun.”

Then, Jade’s nails cut into you, making gill-shaped marks in the breast of your chest, just over the space where your lungs sit.

And as he drags you down, you scream the last scream of your mortal life.

#twisted wonderland jade leech x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere jade leech

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ghostieyanyan · 10 months ago

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Is it ok if I can ask for a yandere Rollo Flamme? I like the idea of Rollo because he’s already based off a yandere villain so it makes sense. And I think Rolli would like to get close to Yuu cuz they don’t have any magic so they’re seen as ‘pure’ in Rollo’s eyes. Maybe Rollo can be seen trying hard to control his urges at the fireplace or he captured MC and tried to burn them at the stake like in the movie? Your choice.

hehehe... why not just add salt to injure? what if mc has pyrophobia, a fear of fire?

~Let the fire purify you~

Yan!Rollo x Pyrophobia!Mc

Warnings: Fire, burning, kidnapping, anxiety attack, chains, gag, breakdown,

~~~

Rollo hated magic... with a passion. A passion that burned so bright that hurricanes, rainstorms, floods, and tsunami together couldn't extinguish this flame of pure hatred.

How does no one sees the danger of magic? How many lives have to be taken in the hand of magic for people to understand this is a problem? He guesses that its one of humanities sin, playing dumb, playing ignorant, until it becomes someone they care about that gets hurt. its always like that... why could people just see things through his lenses BEFORE someone got hurt...

But for now, he just has to do gods work for everyone else, until they see things his ways...

He had a plan. a plan that will solve this problem before it could get worst. The plan to get rid of magic, from one of the most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, to the student "prodigies" of that sick, sinful school, to the townsfolks of Fleur city, to every inch of Twisted wonderland.

With this crazy plan, he'll make, no, he'll force everyone to see how he sees life should be. he didnt care on who got hurt-

until-

he met Night Raven College's gem in the rock, their Perfect. When all the students were introducing themselves, when it was your turn. He swore the world stopped and he would have swore on his life that he saw wings and a halo on you. You looked, spoke, and acted like an angel. you even allow these sinful... beasts... breathe the same air as you. then you have an ACTUAL beast as a familiar. don't tell grim that.

your heart and soul must be made out of pure gold. he has to protect it at all cost. he will use his own body to shield you from magical blast and then some to keep your purity in tact. he will move mountains and redivert lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans for you. Rollo Flamme will make you into his deity that he worships.

All the students decided to split into groups and explore Fleur City, after they got changed.

to say Rollo thought you looked breathe taking in your glorious masquerade outfit was an understatement. he was about to come up to you and compliment you, maybe even starting small talk with you but a certain lizard decided to be the first to do so...

Of course that monster would be charmed by an angel like you. Evil loves to tempt with good.

no matter, he'll just have to see you another time but if he gets too busy..? He'll make time for you.

Rollo lead you into his office, you didn't mind too much because he was telling you all about the school's history and art. it is a really pretty school, it gives very romantic feelings.

when you finally made it into his office, you froze at the doorway at seeing the fire place. Rollo quickly notices and puts out the flame with a very helpful near by bucket. You were grateful that Rollo was very accommodating to your fears.

you thanked him and sat down across from him while Rollo sat in his chair.

"I'm very sorry for asking you to meet me at this ungodly hour but i just needed your input on something and if i didn't ask you, i would have had a sleepless night tossing and turning." Rollo said as he got everything on his desk organized.

"hehe, its alright. I just happen to have a restless night myself.. but i don't mind the company."

"oh my that sounds awful. what seems to be troubling you?"

"w-well.."

It was really hard to tell someone you only just recently met that you had a "bad feeling" about something and how so far, in twisted wonderland, its always comes true...

"well.. i think... maybe, its just the 'sleeping at a new place' feeling and I'm just not getting use to it. but I'm sure its fine. heh.."

"hmm.."

Rollo seemed satisfied with that answer and continues, by leaning towards you on the desk.

"i know i asked you about this before, but id like to discuss it with you more in depth... hmm?"

since Rollo put out the fire place, there was only a small lamp on the desk to shine light in the room. you kind of wished that the fire place was still lit... cause everything in this scenario was telling you to run and never look back..

"o-okay..? what would you like to know..?"

Rollo smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"as a magicless student in a full school of magical.. mages, aren't you scared they might... turn and hurt you..?"

the way he worded that made you feel more unnerved.. you trusted your friends in Night Raven College. Even the ones that did try to hurt you, they still came to your defense and help and protected you when you needed them.. you trusted them with your life and having this man tell you "you shouldn't because they can use magic" was... laughable...

"no.. because they've earn my trust and I've earn theirs..!"

"Earned..?"

Rollo's face darkened as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in.

"I'm sorry Rollo. Thank you for your hospitality but i have to go."

you start walking to the door but stopped.

"with however you feel about magic, i wont sit down and let you disrespect them just because they possess a special ability and i don't. It doesn't make them less of a person. Magic or no magic."

you walked to the door but before you could even touch the doorknob, you feel a body press against your back, pinning you against the door. you couldn't even move, much less move the door.

"I'm sorry my sweet angel~... i guess.. I'll just have to show you myself then~"

you see a quick purple blur and then tightness around your throat. Rollo was using his signature purple and gold handkerchief to strangle you! you tried to struggle. you tired to jab your elbow into his chest but his uniform was too thick for it to do any good.

You started to feel light headed then everything you saw was slowly turning black. the last thing you saw was Rollo, and the insanity in his eyes.

you had so many questions...

why you? was it because you don't have magic so you were "easy"? aren't there other people in twisted wonderland without magic? you just happened to go to a school "for" magic users so of course you'll see it a lot.

what's so bad about magic? ya it almost killed you here and there but it also almost killed either the user or other people around you.. but afterwards everything would have been fine. Plus you didn't blame the magic for those situations. you couldn't even say you blamed the user. some deserved the blame.. but not everyone..

how did you get here..? probably from your big mouth, you should have been smart when you were talking to Rollo. he was already giving you weird vibes and you just had to make it worst

you had more questions but you knew none of them would get answered..

you started to slowly open your eyes..

where are you..? what's this sound..? why cant you move..?

you slowly looked around, you remember this place... Rollo showed you, with your friends. the big bell, the bell of Solace. you noticed that you were alone though..

you looked around some more, you looked out from where you sat on the floor. it was dark out but with an orange hue... was the sun rising..? what's going on?

you went to take a step, to look out but something stopped you. a cold hand..? no..? a chain?!

if you weren't fully awake then, now you are! the chain was short, at least 2 feet long from the floor, it was attached to both your ankles. you could only go so far out.

what happened?! what's going on?!?

you started breathing heavily, tears started to form. you felt so confused, so lost. someone, anyone, please hel-

"oh my dear! you're awake."

your blood became ice, you looked up to see an uncomfortably happy Rollo.. he had a basket of breads and fruits.

"i was so worried that you'll never wake up. I'm very happy you did~"

with a heavy chest, you spoke.

"what's going on, Rollo!? Why are we here? why am i-?"

"oh within time my dear angel~ we just have to wait for those flowers to do their miracles. in the meantime, eat. you've been sleeping for a while and-"

"flowers..? what are you-...? Rollo...."

you took a deep breathe to try to settle your nerves.

"Please, Rollo... I'm scared. please tell me what's going on."

he looks at you and sighed, placing the basket down on a near by table. He then walked over to you and sat beside you, motioning you to come closer to him.

You did. you don't really have a choice right now..

"I'm making our perfect little world my love~ our paradise~"

you looked at the man like he was crazy. he was, at this point. But he continues.

"the Crimson flowers, the one that looks like fire, the flowers i shown you when you toured the city, they have the ability to take a mage's magic until they are just magicless people.. like you."

you stared at him but he kept smiling.

"magicless.. like me..?"

"yes my dear, then everyone in this world would have to understand magic is like a poisonous weed that has to be pulled out. or it'll spread to the other crops."

you just stared. you couldn't bare to keep looking at him so you turned to look at anything else..

magicless like you... no.. this isn't right. this cant happened!

Rollo thought the conversation was over and sat up to get the basket.

"Before this started, i made sure to get some food. i thought you'll be hungry so-"

"...mon...ster..."

Rollo froze. he was facing the backet and didn't turn around.

"excuse me..?"

you stood up, leaning against the wall, as best as you could. You knew your big mouth was gonna put you in a tough situation again but- what were you suppose to do?

"you, Rollo Flamme, are a monster."

he slowly turned to you, his eyes screamed murder. even if your body is shaking, from fear, from anxiety, from anger, maybe all of them at once's, but you kept your eye contact with Rollo.

You knew a comment like that will hurt him. you knew you couldn't physically harm him but you just wanted to hurt him like he planned to do the same to everyone you cared for..

the silence was deafening.

Rollo took some slow steps to you and leaned down to your level.

"take. that. back."

"no. cause i didn't say anything wrong.."

you hear Rollo take a deep breath and he quickly snaked his hand to grab the nape of your neck. you let out a gasp, from the sudden movement. he straighten his posture and brought you to his eye level.

"it's seems that those... mages.. have filled you with their poison. I'll just have to purify you myself. don't say i didn't warn you, my angel.."

he dragged you to a window and made you look outside. the entire city was filled with those flowers but... the looks of those flowers... made it look like you were in the middle of a raging firestorm. you felt your stomach drop. you felt cold shivers, and you didn't even realized that tears were falling. when you looked more, you noticed that the "fire" was slowly climbing the tower you were in.

you were about to let out a blood curdling scream but you were stopped by Rollo tying that purple handkerchief into a makeshift gag for you.

After that, he threw you, face down into the ground. Your body was shivering from fear so intensely, to the point that it feels like you lost complete control over your body. you couldn't even fight back when Rollo tied your hands together.

"i, really, am sorry for this my sweet angel~ but i have to get rid of the poison that those mages put in you... you have to be purified."

Rollo walked off and came back holding a fireplace poker. it was glowing red and you could see smoke coming off of it. where he got that, you didn't know but your attempt to get away from him was met with a wall against your back.

you felt your head spin, you were trembling to no return, the hot tears wouldn't stop, and the makeshift gag he put on you was now soak with tears, saliva, and snot.

Rollo kept walking towards you, in an agonizing slow pace.

"don't worry, my angel love~ after this, all will be forgiven~"

when he went to grab your face, he-

"MC!!"

those are.. familiar voices.. you know those voices..

"tch.. i suppose your punishment will have to wait my love. apparently, ill have to finish these pesky mages off myself."

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historianthesecond · 1 year ago

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Hiii~ I LOVE who came in with the sea (very thrilled to read where the story is going!!) So I wanted to request a fic inspired on that

Maybe where mermaid!reader is married with Nikolai, and they both live in the palace, and from time to time Nikolai surprises reader swimming at the lake, so he just likes to see by the docks and watch her hehehe

Thank you! Have a happy week >:3

Hi! Sorry this one took so long kdjdjkdjk I'm not still 100% about this, but I'm struggling with writing rn so I hope you like it 🙈

Moonlight Mirror

Nikolai Lantsov x Mermaid!Fem!Reader---1.2K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship | No Plot Pure Fluff |

Nikolai was used to hearing the sudden splashes of water around the lake while he tinkered with the Hummingbird, or any of his new ships, the movement creating waves that crashed along the polished hull.

You made him company in those strange moments in which either of you had many duties to complete in the day—you could always cuddle in bed and work until the oil lamp emptied.

It was late already, with his mind so focused he couldn't figure out how many bells had just chimed, the metallic echo falling into the still night air, the critters from the gardens around quickly restarting their melody.

Sighing, he took a rag and cleaned his hands, long streaks of black oil marking the white cotton. Nikolai put them on the seat he was just occupying, his eyes drawn to watch over the wooden rail at the still surface of the water.

You surely were enjoying the cold water at the bottom, which how a layer of sweat clung to his shirt, the summer air feeling more like the hellish breeze that blew from the ovens inside the kitchen than a break from the inclement weather.

The wooden boards of the docks creaked under his boots until he stopped at the edge of the one occupied by the ramp to climb into the ship. The water looked like a mirror, showing the almost full moon dotted with stars in the clear sky.

While he sat, ripples broke the calmness as your head surfaced, the dorsal fins around your ears shining silver against the moonlight.

You beamed, submerging your head in the water once again before appearing right in front of him seconds later.

“Hi, handsome,” you said, your hair floating around the water. You handed him a wrench that had slipped out his hands a couple of hours ago, as you always loved to look for shiny things underwater, your wedding ring shining gold catching his attention with the movement.

It was common to end up surprised at catching a glimpse of it now and then. That you were married to him despite everything you had to endure, so much that sometimes he thought it was wiser to just let you go.

His hands interlaced with yours, the wrench secured in the middle of the dock. A giggle bubbled out your lips when you felt his lips brushing your inner wrist.

"Come here, lovely," Nikolai muttered against your skin, leaning against you to carry you out of the water. He was used to feeling the smooth and cold surface of your tail, white and silver and artic blue that curled around him. "I missed you," he said, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. You still smelled like the stormy seas of the north, of salt and fresh, cold wind blowing over the icebergs navigating over the infinity of cerulean blue.

You laughed, moving your tail up and down to fit better on his lap. “I was here all the time.”

“Not close enough.” To prove his point he held you closer, not caring that now his clothes were soaked. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. “This close would do. For now.”

You looked at him, some beads of water running down your face, eyes blinking between the yellow tones with vertical slits, like trapped amber, and your human ones, sweet and filled with adoration. “You wouldn’t finish anything if I were this close.”

Nikolai chuckled, hands lovingly cradling your body. “My wife truly is the wisest.”

Crooning your neck, you looked back at the shadowy silhouette of the Hummingbird, its ghostly sails carefully tied into the masts. You could reminisce about all the times you’d been aboard its tiny deck, flying one with the clouds as Nikolai pointed down at the cities you passed by, seeing colorful roofs and tall churches and schools, new bridges being built and roads open through the hills.

Your new home, you thought, leaning closer to Nikolai's warm arms around your waist. This is what home is about.

“Is she ready?” you asked, pulling his head slightly away to clean a stain of oil off his cheek.

His eyes twinkled with pride. "Yes. I fixed the engine so the turbines could help balance the hull. It seems last time I didn't oil them completely, thus why they got stuck."

Thankfully, he had crashed into a thick canopy not so far from the Grand Palace. With a visit from the physician and the Healers, he recovered enough to try his new invention again after a couple of days.

Nikolai kissed the top of your head. “Are you going to Notvy Zem with me then?” he said, a sly grin on his face.

“Are you going to use this business trip as another makeshift honeymoon?” you couldn’t stop from asking, which made him laugh. It wouldn’t help that you did go to Notvy Zem in your real honeymoon, three years ago.

“It’s almost our anniversary.”

“Your priorities astound me, Kolya.”

He smiled, trailing a path of kisses down your neck. “It’s on you for being so enticing,” Nikolai muttered against your ear, your body wiggling as you got ticklish from his soft, fleeting kisses.

You hummed, giving in quickly under his touch. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”

Truth was, Nikolai wanted to swim with you on the tropical shores of the foreign nation, there where the water was turquoise clear, colorful, and blooming with life around the coral reefs. You seldom wanted to swim with him in the lake in front of the Little Palace for how cold and profound it was, fearing something would happen to him.

"No," you said about two months before your wedding, blocking his way toward the docks. "Last time you caught a cold. It's dangerous."

"I'm healthy again, my love. I'll be fine." But you weren't convinced, dragging him back to your room where he settled with sharing a warm bathtub.

Which reminded him... "Let's go, gorgeous." You slipped out of his grasp once your tail was gone, with him standing up and unbuttoning his coat to cover you with it before you could protest. “A refreshing bath is awaiting us.”

“But my clothes—” you started, feeling the soft fabric of velvet and cotton against your bare back. It wasn’t cold to wear one, but the fabric smelled like him, like expensive cologne and brandy and burned oil, so you kept it.

“They won’t be needed,” he told you, and you were about to gasp, faking shock even if your stomach was fluttering.

Nikolai fetched them, your light skirts and silk blouse hung over his shoulder as he squatted down to lift you in his arms. You hung onto him, kissing the outline of his jaw as he walked back to the Grand Palace, the guards nodding in your direction as they were used to the view by now.

You with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, a boyish smile on his lips as he gazed down at you as if you'd been lighting up the stars that were flicking you goodnight with your hands. Words weren't necessary anymore; love was shown as clear as the sky of that peaceful summer night.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lanstov x you #shadow and bone x you

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year ago

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The Field: In a Week (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: T - language, discussions of sex, infidelity, mortality Word count: 2.9k

Part 2: Lavender Forever Part 4: Back to Autumn Masterpost

Summary: A decade into your marriage, you and Benedict face life's trials.

Author's Note: The third in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This part is based on the song In a Week by Hozier. 💙

A decade later

Your feet moved on their own. You were so blinded with anger, so lost in the whirl of your bitter thoughts that you let them carry you wherever they wanted. All you knew was you had to get out of the house before you snapped. You had already made a scene, walking straight out of Aubrey Hall and stomping across the cold, misted grounds while multiple members of the Bridgerton family watched. But it was better than shouting at your husband in front of them all, airing your dirty laundry in mixed company in some self destructive attempt to hurt him as much as he had hurt you. No, this was better. Just remove yourself from the situation. Cool down, reset, and find some way to awkwardly slip back and make a quick exit.

You grumbled low to yourself, spitting into the autumn air everything you wanted to say to him. All of your most wounding insults, your most witty comebacks, your most damning accusations. Things that you never had the celerity or courage to actually say in the moment, but that always won every imaginary argument. It was both exhausting and cathartic to replay the quarrels in your mind over and over, a twisted cycle you had become all too familiar with.

A sudden rustling noise snapped you back into the present moment. Looking to the treeline you saw an orange tuft dart into the shadows and then a gleaming pair of eyes turn and peer back at you. It was a fox, watching you closely as you stomped the final few yards into the expanse of the field. It was the only place you had thought to go; somewhere distant and quiet, familiar and comforting, though bittersweet now with all the memories it contained. The happiness you remembered feeling there contrasted sharply with everything you felt now. As you moved through the tall grass you traced what had led you to this point.

After a decade’s tenure working with Anthony you had felt the pull to hang your own shingle, to establish yourself outside of the family you had married into. Everyone supported your move but the transition was proving harder than you had expected. Though you knew your blame was misplaced, you had started to grow resentful of the Bridgerton name and the automatic prestige it carried. Prestige your new brand could only dream of.

You were working long hours, Benedict never seemed to not be working, and the honeymoon period was long over. He had reached a zenith of success and now it seemed every gallery from Salt Lake to Phuket wanted his pieces. But his traveling to meet with them all left no piece of him behind for you. The tender moments when you had joined together each day: swatting playfully at each other as you wrangled for the kettle, dinner burning on the hob as Benedict ignored it in favor of sprawling you across a countertop, and staying up far too late entwined in bed as you stared at the ceiling and talked of all your grand plans; none of that happened anymore. Everything felt like a transaction, even drudgery, as you both strove to fulfill life’s basic tasks while exhausted by everything you were trying to accomplish.

Arguments had arisen to replace your daydreaming. Arguments over petty things and big things too. Neither of you could make up your mind on the biggest question - whether or not you wanted children. You were admittedly both curious to see what you might look like blended together in a new person and wanted to send them out as an agent of good in an increasingly uncertain world. But it was that same uncertainty that made you fear to bring them into it. And you both knew that your lifestyles didn’t currently lend themselves to parenthood. While you suspected Benedict believed a child would bring you closer together, you feared that the added stress of a helpless dependent may tip you over the edge.

The bliss that had once dominated your relationship now seemed to be only a memory. The generator in your chest that he had installed had run out of fuel. You were starting to contemplate things you could never have imagined only a few years prior. The D word. Something you had previously found so dirty, akin to a slur and having no place in the same sentence as Benedict’s name. Now it was beginning to have an odd kind of appeal. But it still forced tears from your eyes every time you thought about it, as it did now. With a shaking exhale you sat down, your hot tears contrasting with the cold dew in the grass. Failure and frustration welled within and you sank your head onto your knees, trapped in a loop of anguished thoughts.

When you heard more rustling you looked up, wondering if the fox had grown curious enough to approach. But it was Benedict, walking toward you slowly with his hands in his coat pockets, frowning.

You hastily brushed the tears from your cheeks.

“Benedict, please. I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Well, I didn’t want my wife to storm out of a family gathering in front of everyone and fuck off into the wilderness but here we are.” His voice was cutting, his eyes steely. “Is this your solution? To just not talk about it and eventually wander back in and act like nothing happened? Do I get to simmer in your resentment for the rest of the night?”

“Ben, stop,” you whispered, tears rising again.

“We need to fix this!” He barked, the sternness in his jaw so uncharacteristic. Then he softened. “I want to fix this."

The broken pleading cut through you and you saw a fleeting glimpse of the Benedict you had fallen in love with, still hiding there under everything that had happened. You knew he was talking about more than just your tiff in the family room. He was talking about everything.

“I want to fix this too.”

You allowed him to sit next to you in the grass but when he reached for your hand you jerked it away.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

You wouldn’t forgive that easily. If he wanted to fix things, he had to understand how he hurt you. “You made a joke at my expense.”

“I thought you’d laugh with me!” he reasoned. “You used to.”

“Used to was a long time ago. Now the jokes about your wife’s adorable, failing hobby business are wearing thin. I know you can’t relate. You or anyone in your family, with your fabulous lives.” You knew you sounded petulant but were giving free reign to your honest thoughts. Ever since stepping outside of the family business, you had felt somewhat outside of the family too. You only had yourself to blame and knew it was objectively untrue but couldn’t defeat your niggling imposter syndrome.

“Hey,” Benedict’s eyes were full of concern. “You are part of this family. What’s mine is yours.”

“Alright.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, leaving spite in the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t know it would upset you so much.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you spat. “You wouldn’t know much about me anymore because you’re never around. Gallivanting all over the world, one gallery to the next while your quaint little wife sits at home.”

Now it was his turn to be exasperated. “You told me you needed to stay and focus on your work.”

“Just the first time and you’ve never asked me to join you again!” You stared him down, waiting for him to acknowledge fault, wanting him to explain himself. His silence stretched your anger to the breaking point. If you were going to have it out, you would have it all out.

You cooled your voice and turned away from him. “I suppose that’s good for your image. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

From the corner of your eye you saw his head snap up. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m not stupid, Ben. And other women aren’t blind.” You took a shaking breath, fearing where the conversation would lead but knowing you had to pursue it. The suspicion and insecurity had been simmering within you for too long.

After a long pause he finally spoke, his voice hollow. “You think I’m running around on you?”

The words fractured your heart and you had to stifle a whimper against the pain. “You tell me,” you whispered. “So much time spent apart.”

You held your breath, waiting for all of your worst fears to be confirmed. A devastating truth that would simultaneously destroy you and set you free. But you were only met with more silence. You turned back to see Benedict staring at the ground, jaw locked and eyes searching.

“Nothing to say?” you prodded. “Should I take that as an admission?”

He looked up, pale eyes stormy while his voice was surprisingly calm. “No. I’m trying to think what I could have possibly done to undermine your faith in me like this. Maybe I didn’t fuck up in one big way. Maybe I fucked up in a thousand tiny ways. Over time, is that enough to make you think I’d go back on my vow?” The pain in his voice and confusion in his eyes immediately tore down your defenses. With only a few quiet sentences he deftly convinced you of his innocence and made you regret accusing him at all.

You swallowed thickly. “Your vow?”

“Our wedding vows. Remember?” He raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Big party. You wore white. In this very field in fact.” He gestured to the landscape before you. The sky was clouded and the green was fading into straw tones. But your memories could etch in every detail of that sunlit day. A day of bliss when you joined your lives together, just feet from where you sat now.

Benedict continued, his words fervent. “We made vows. Vows that I remember and that I’m not going to break. No matter how many mistakes I make, my commitment to those stays the same. Do you believe me?”

His burning gaze made you tremble, nearly speechless in the face of his loyalty. Your enmity melted away with a half-hearted quip. “They weren’t really vows, per se.”

“No, they were better.” This time Benedict took your hand and you didn’t pull away. He held it tightly. “My heart unto yours is knit, so that but one heart can we make of it.” Smiles flitted across both your faces, remembering all of the Shakespeare he had insisted on using for your ceremony. ‘Eternal words for an eternal love,’ he had said.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed the softest kiss to your knuckles before pulling it to his chest. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to share my heart with anyone else if it's actually yours in the first place.”

You broke, letting your tears release the pressure of all the guilt, relief, love and hope building within. His arms instinctively wrapped around you as you leaned against him, now surrounded by warmth and his familiar smell. This was your husband, the love of your life. This was Benedict. He wasn’t perfect, but then neither were you. You had challenges to face and wounds to heal, but knew with certainty that the person you wanted to turn to through it all was him. Even if he was the cause of pain himself. You chuckled against his neck, laughing and crying simultaneously at the beautiful contradiction.

Benedict pulled back to meet your eyes. “Do you believe me?”

You nodded and he let out an audible sigh of relief, grinning as he rested his forehead against yours and held your face in his hands. “And then end life when I end loyalty.”

You surged forward and kissed him, the salt of your tears tingeing your lips. The two of you clung together, tension easing as your bodies and souls bolstered each other again. You lowered slowly to lie in the grass, side by side with your hands clasped.

“I miss you on these trips too, you know,” he revealed. “It’s fucking agonizing. I don’t want to travel as much as I do, but…”

“You need to,” you assured him, realizing your selfishness and insecurity couldn’t stand in the way of his dreams. “I want to see the works of Benedict Bridgerton displayed across the world. It’s what you deserve. It’s what you’ve earned. Starving artist no more.”

He quirked a brow. “Was I ever?”

“No,” you smiled. “And maybe I’ll join you sometimes.”

He squeezed your hand. “Yes, please. It would be good for both of us. You never know who may be in need of a Creative Director.”

The mess of your job situation came hurtling back. The last thing you wanted was a handout. “Ben…”

“I’m not going to go slinging your name around and angling for favors. We can just keep our ears open,” he explained. “Let the nepotism work after you’ve applied.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his dry remark. It was inescapable, the fact that you were tied to a surname that opened doors. But you knew Benedict would support you in rising based on your own merit. You had never actually asked for his help and chastised yourself for it.

He turned to stare up at the grey sky, mumbling to himself. “And I can give my damn fist a rest.”

You balked. “I’m sorry?”

The way he wiggled his eyebrows confirmed everything.

You smirked. “Are you saying you’re sullying all these five star hotel rooms with your self abuse?”

“Whenever I think of you.” His menacing little grin never failed to ignite a spark in your stomach. Despite how your body always ached for his, your suspicion of his infidelity had bled into suspicions about your sex life. Every time he returned home he pounced on you, but you had assumed it was driven by guilt or pure animalistic need, not by passion. You had felt like you owed it to him as a welcome home gift. You hadn’t realized how much he still longed for you. To imagine him alone in every far flung city, pleasuring himself while gasping your name, it was both tantalizing and a bit heartbreaking.

“Why don’t you call me?” you asked.

He looked dumbfounded. “You would want that?”

“Yes.” You rolled over and gave him a deep kiss, murmuring against his lips. “Timezones be damned, I want to know you're coming for me on the other side of the world.”

“Fucking hell,” he exhaled, eyes glittering. You smiled and snuggled into his side, the two of you lying in silence, studying the clouds, quietly envisioning the new chapter you were embarking upon. You felt a sense of peace returning that had eluded you for years.

You could have laid there for years or for hours, you weren’t sure. You were just content to feel Benedict’s hand in yours, to hear the quiet rustle of the wind in the grass, and to know that happier days lay ahead. But eventually the light started to dim, the temperature dropped to the point that your breath became visible, and you knew you had to return to the world outside of your hideaway.

“I don’t want to go back,” you confessed. “I made an ass of myself.”

Benedict smirked. “It would look worse that I marched off after you and neither of us ever returned.”

You were no longer concerned about anyone’s perception of you. Not while you were together. “They should know by now where to find us,” you shrugged. “What’s the plan? Lie here forever?”

You inhaled the crisp air, realizing the appeal. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Benedict nestled deeper into the grass with a smile. “Lay here until we just dissolve into the grass. Become the flowers. That would really throw a wrench into the dandelion wine production.”

You both burst into laughter. It felt so good to laugh again.

“They’d find us in a week,” you mused. “Or whatever is left of us after the foxes have had a taste.”

He grimaced. “Gruesome.”

“It wouldn’t be our problem. We’d be gone. Somewhere. Together.”

Dark as it was, there was an undeniably appealing beauty in the idea. That the two of you could let the world fall away and rest forever in your favorite place, slumbering together through frosts and thaws and watercolor sunrises. You lay in complete stillness imitating the corpses you imagined yourselves to be, your hands clasped so tightly that you could feel both your pulses between them. They were slowing, your hearts settling back into a calm echo of one another after dissipating their anger.

Benedict spoke softly. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I am too.”

You knew with certainty that you had rounded a corner, entered a new era of honesty with one another. One upon which you could build the next decades of your shared life. Benedict, ever the mind reader, confirmed as much.

“A new start from here on out, yeah? We let our bitter selves die here.”

You turned to face him, cherishing his crooked grin, his bright eyes, every smile line that carved his features and fleck of grey that hid at his temples. You saw the boy who had kissed you in a swirl of dandelion tufts, the menace who ravished you with sinful delights, the husband who anchored you through every storm, and the man who you would follow to the ends of the earth. All rolled into one beautiful soul that you were blessed to have joined with your own.

You squeezed his hand. “Alright. We’ll lay here and die a little. Then I want to be home with you.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #female reader #modern au #romance #angst

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colinsmith124 · 6 months ago

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Why 801 Moving Company Stands Out Among Moving Companies in Salt Lake City

Moving can be one of life's most stressful events. From packing up years' worth of belongings to coordinating logistics and ensuring everything arrives safely at your new home, the process can quickly become overwhelming. For residents of Salt Lake City, finding a reliable moving company is crucial to easing the burden of this transition. Among the numerous moving companies in Salt Lake City, 801 Moving Company has distinguished itself as a leader in the industry. This blog post will delve into why 801 Moving Company stands out among moving companies in SLC and why they should be your first choice for moving services in Salt Lake City.

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801 Moving Company employs a team of highly trained and experienced movers who are skilled in all aspects of the moving process. Their movers undergo rigorous training to ensure they can handle any challenge that may arise during a move. This expertise sets them apart from other moving companies in SLC, as clients can trust that their belongings are being handled by professionals.

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Conclusion

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Whether you're planning a residential or commercial move, need specialty moving services, or require temporary storage solutions, 801 Moving Company has the expertise and resources to meet your needs. With their transparent pricing, eco-friendly practices, and local expertise, you can trust 801 Moving Company to handle your move with care and efficiency.

#Long Distance Movers #Moving Companies In Salt Lake City

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801moving · 7 months ago

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The Benefits of Hiring 801 Moving for Long-Distance Moves in Salt Lake City

Moving can be an exciting time, but it can also be stressful and overwhelming. Whether you are relocating for work or simply want a change of scenery, hiring a professional moving company can be a game-changer for your long-distance move. If you are planning a move in Salt Lake City, look no further than 801 Moving Company. In this article, we will explore the benefits of hiring 801 Moving for your long-distance move and why they are the best choice for your moving needs.

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One of the biggest advantages of hiring 801 Moving Company for your long-distance move is the convenience and efficiency they provide. Moving can be a time-consuming and physically demanding process, but with 801 Moving, you can save time and effort. Their team of professionals is trained to handle all aspects of the move, from packing and loading to transportation and unloading.

801 Moving Company offers professional packing and unpacking services, ensuring that your belongings are carefully packed and protected during the move. This not only saves you time but also gives you peace of mind knowing that your items are in safe hands. Their efficient packing techniques and use of high-quality packing materials help to minimize the risk of damage during transit.

Experienced and Reliable Team

When it comes to long-distance moves, experience and reliability are crucial. 801 Moving Company has a team of experienced movers who have handled numerous long-distance moves in Salt Lake City. Their expertise and knowledge in the industry allow them to navigate any challenges that may arise during the move.

801 Moving Company is committed to providing reliable and trustworthy service to their customers. They understand the importance of delivering your belongings on time and in the same condition as when they were packed. Their team takes extra care in handling fragile and valuable items, ensuring that they are properly secured and protected during the move.

Competitive Pricing and Transparent Quotes

Cost is always a consideration when planning a long-distance move. 801 Moving Company offers competitive pricing for their long-distance moving services. They understand that every move is unique, and they provide personalized quotes based on the specific requirements of your move.

One of the advantages of hiring 801 Moving Company is their transparent quoting process. They provide detailed quotes that outline all the costs involved in the move, so you won't have to worry about any hidden fees or surprises. This transparency allows you to budget effectively and plan your move without any financial stress.

Comprehensive Moving Services

801 Moving Company offers a comprehensive range of moving services to cater to all your needs. From packing and loading to transportation and unloading, their team handles every aspect of the move with professionalism and care. They have the necessary equipment and resources to handle moves of any size, whether you are moving a small apartment or a large family home.

In addition to their standard moving services, 801 Moving Company also offers additional services such as storage options and specialty item handling. If you need temporary storage for your belongings or have delicate items that require special care, they have you covered. Their team will work with you to customize a moving plan that meets your specific requirements.

Customer Satisfaction and Positive Reviews

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#moving companies in salt lake #business #moving companies sandy utah #movers

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philiproy1 · 5 months ago

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Top Benefits of Choosing 801 Moving: Long Distance Moving Companies Salt Lake City

Moving to a new home, especially over long distances, can be an exciting yet daunting experience. From packing up your belongings to coordinating logistics, there are numerous tasks to manage, making it essential to choose the right moving company to assist you. Among the plethora of options available, 801 Moving stands out as one of the premier long distance moving companies in Salt Lake City. In this blog post, we'll explore the top benefits of choosing 801 Moving for your long distance move, highlighting their expertise, professionalism, and dedication to customer satisfaction.

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rainyarcades · 1 year ago

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GGY headcanons because I've been thinking a little...

Greg met Tony and Ellis in September, right at the start of the school year. He was alone and didn't know where to go, but Tony was there like, "Hey, this new kid's lonely. I think we should check on him."

Tony is nice, but also nosy. He likes knowing people, inside and out

Tony finds new kids especially interesting. There's usually more to them being there than others, who just go to the school because they live nearby or thought it was a good school.

This kid, their family, moved here for a reason... Why?

Hurricane doesn't have anything much going for it. While yes, it's the birthplace of Fazbear Entertainment and has the very first, original Pizzaplex, people don't usually move to the town just for that. Parents wouldn't usually do that.

So there's a story there! Everyone has a story.

As for why Gregory's parents moved at all... He has well-off parents who wanted to work with Fazbear Entertainment. Huge economic opportunity. So they moved in from Salt Lake City, you go to Hurricane now my boy

The whole reason Gregory gets glitchtrapped is because of his parents. Karma got them in the end ig....

Gregory is a good friend to both Ellis and Tony. They click immediately, like they've known Greg for years. They know his full name, but Gregory never really went by it back then, sticking with simply Greg (he would've went by 'Gregory' in SB because he forgot he even had that nickname at all.... and while in and out of consciousness before that, even. So Cassie only ever knew him as Gregory)

Rab wasn't around the whole time, lucky for Gregory. He got to know the duo for a few months before that, got close, and clicked super well with them. So he did have a close connection with them before things went wrong, unlike Cassie who he would've gotten less connection with since he didn't really know her (and when he'd met her, he'd just broken free of being controlled for a few hours, with no memory of any events).

Summer came, and Gregory got to test a Freddy's VR game bc of his parents. He would've begged them too, "It's the least you can do for me. You guys don't spend any time with me! Let me come with you to the company building and test the game, pleaseee?"

Something went wrong at the target audience testing. One of the QA testers kept watching him, a blonde woman with green eyes... She was odd, but Gregory brushed the thought away.

That was, until a sharp migraine hit his head, and everything started to go fuzzy from there.

School came back around in September, and GGY happened. Greg acted slightly differently after summer, but it was probably just normal stuff. Right? It's not like there were any stark differences in personality. That's what Tony thought at least, until he dug too deep and... yeah.

To Ellis, his two best friends just went missing. That's all there was, forever, and he just had to deal with that. They were never coming back.

As for Tony, he'd haunt Greg and probably can't quite believe there's life after death

Gregory, at this point, he doesn't remember. So shit falls off shelves, and he hears his name whispered, and he's like, 'huh. must've been the wind... unless, maybe Vanessa's grandma is here? omg Ness, holy shit come here. I think your grandma's ghost is here??"

But it'd get serious when he finds out the truth. When he realises. When he starts getting hurt by this ghost. He tries to communicate (since my Greg is a paranormal believer and Tony owned a DR60 recorder because of him, while Greg owns a REM-pod). Tony is always angry. He's always upset. Gregory finds himself permanently haunted by him.

Rab racked up a few bodies while he was controlling Gregory; therapists, Tony, his parents, and two random kids he didn't even know the name of. Vanny dealt with the rest. Those mostly went to the Tangle, though; Tony was the only one to have a close enough connection to get stuck attached to Greg.

That's all I really have rn, idk I wanted to post this somewhere sjhdjbrkfnfm I had thoughts. Many thoughts. I will continue to have thoughts.

#fnaf #ggy #gregory #Gregory fnaf #tony becker #tony fnaf #ellis fnaf #ggy trio #headcanons #glitch.txt

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ficthots · 2 years ago

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August

A/N: Okay, I know it took me forever to get this published again, but here it is! This is set to the theme of August by Taylor Swift, obviously. As always let me know what you think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ only

Word Count: 7.4k+

Salt air and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

Whispers of “Are you sure?”

“Never have I ever before”

Summer is a magical time of the year. If you don’t mind sweltering temperatures, humidity so dense that you can feel the air around you, and every place you visit being over packed to the point where you literally can’t move without touching someone's sticky body. Despite those lows, the triumph of what summer truly stands for is where it makes it a winner over all the other seasons.

Freedom.

No longer being tied to class schedules, extra curricular activities, stressing over college applications. Nope, not this year. This was the year that you were putting that all behind you and stepping into the future. Your future.

College was on the horizon, growing larger the closer it appeared. All the hard work, blood, sweat, and tears now long gone as the crisp hopefulness of the next chapter popped into your line of vision. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy what your little hometown had to offer during your last year as a permanent resident here.

It was why Danny’s piece of shit truck was idling in the street, blocking your driveway, waiting for you to come bounding down the stairs to spend the day at one of your favorite places in the world. His entire face lit up when you entered his line of sight, throwing open the rusted passenger door and hearing the creek of it echo into the neighborhood as it moved.

Not even uttering a hello, you grabbed the loose auxiliary cord that hung from the refurbished radio and connected your phone to it. As Taylor Swift filled the speakers, he rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder to pull away from the curb and begin the drive.

“You bring the cooler?” You asked over the pounding of the music, turning around and seeing it crammed behind the seats. “Mhm. There should be a raspberry iced tea Arizona in there.” Your eyes lit up with excitement at the discovery, cracking it open, and leaning towards the open window.

Your hair whipped around in a complete frenzy as Danny got up to full speed, seeing the content smile gracing your lips, eyeing the view as it whizzed by. He laughed at the view of you trying to tame your locks, hand landing on your thigh subconsciously as he continued the drive.

You two belted along to the songs that randomly played through your combined playlist, Danny’s fingers tapping on the bare skin of your thigh to the beat of whatever was playing. There was nothing better than spending your days like this together. It was always the highlight of your vacations.

When you two could disappear from everyone else and just bask in one another's company. The splash of the water cascading onto the secluded shore had your mind humming in peace. Sun soaking on a picnic blanket and towel, a small portable radio by your head playing music into the area around you, a backpack stuffed to the brim with food laid next to you.

Danny wading out of the water, small trunks clung to his thighs, long curls pushed back away from his face and dripping down his bare back had you smiling as he approached you. He snatched his towel from under your head that you had been utilizing as a pillow, wrapping it around his body.

This was an area that you two had discovered once by sheer accident, but now was your own spot that no one else had seemed to find quite yet. A small piece of the lake that was undisturbed by any other bodies. Something that seemed to have been crafted just for the enjoyment of you two.

Not even your group knew of this place. Whenever you all would come together, it was to a different place, much more visible to the public then where you currently resided. No, this was just for you two. It wasn’t something you had discussed either. Keeping this a little secret between you both. It just…was.

Danny’s soaked body dripped onto yours as he stood over you, a true giant from the angle you were laying at. He had grabbed his own beverage of choice for the day, guzzling it down in one go before collapsing on the blanket next to you, letting the sun conveniently dry him.

Wiggling closer to him, his skin was cold to the touch as you rolled over, leaning on one elbow to peer at him. “You’re very pretty.” Was all you offered as you stared him down without his knowledge, eyes being shut as he relaxed. His body shook with laughter as you poked his cheek, then his nose.

“Think that’s what I’m supposed to say to you.” He mumbled out, eyes remaining shut as he lifted an arm, letting you cuddle into his side. You scoffed at his response, laying your head on his bicep, staring up at the cloudless sky. “No.”

That was how you two remained for the rest of the afternoon. Laying soundless as you drifted in and out of naps, occasionally treading into the water before coming back out and occupying your time in a different way.

Munching on a sandwich he had made for this afternoon, you were engrossed in your book, sunglasses perched atop your damp head. You had been reading out loud for Danny to listen to the tale despite not having heard the first seventy percent of the story, but he didn’t mind. His head rested on your lap, listening intently to your enthusiastic tones and the changing voices as different characters spoke.

Handing the sandwich down to him, eyes never parting the book, not halting your reading, he took it from your hands and polished it off for you, having finished his long ago. His phone went off in the backpack that had been continuously moved around the blanket space as you two moved around throughout the day.

Stopping where you were in the chapter, you handed it over to him to see that it was his alarm going off, signaling that the day had come to an end and it was time to return home. Silently, you both stood and began packing up all your belongings.

Mindless chatter flew between you both as you rolled the towels after he shook them out to remove any lingering sand and pebbles. “Okay, tell me again why he’s in jail.” You had the backpack handle in your mouth, stuffing the towels in there, but spit it out as you spoke.

“Because he was falsely accused of murdering the girl from his high school.” His brow furrowed at your words, folding the blanket up. “How do you know he was falsely accused?” You stood, bag slung over one shoulder as you waited for him to finish his task. “In chapter four it says that he was out of town with his grandfather.”

He stood back up, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you walked back to the truck. “Okay, so why doesn’t the grandfather go and bail him out? Tell the police that he was on a trip with the guy.” You shook your head, fingers lacing with his as they dangled over your shoulder. “Because the grandfather died the following week.”

Danny’s bottom lip pushed out as he nodded his head, opening the truck door for you as you climbed in. The window was rolled down as he shut the door, leaning through the opening to you. “Yeah, you need to tell me how that ends cause it sounds fucked up.” You laughed, nodding at him as he tapped the tip of your nose before walking to his side of the car.

The entire drive home, you sat in the middle seat, pressed into his side. His hand rested on your leg, tapping to the beat of more songs, a permanent smirk plastered to his lips. These were the days you savored. Craved.

Where it could just be you two. No pressure, so stress, no nothing. Just you two. That was how you liked it to be. If it could remain that way for the rest of time you would snatch that up in an instant. And you knew Danny would, too.

When he pulled back up to your house, your achy limbs from a day of swimming cried as you trekked up the driveway to your house. Danny called out to you from the open window as you reached the front door, drawing your attention back to him instead of the shower and bed that were screaming your name. “Call me tomorrow. Love you!”

Your hand shielded your eyes from the setting sun, waving at him as he began driving off, calling out an ‘I love you’ back as he left. You two tried to make that trip happen at least once every other week. If it couldn’t be a lake visit, it was something else. Movie night at someone's house, arcade and ice cream, the only all night diner in the county. It didn’t matter as long as it happened.

No one else knew of these little escapades you two had. You just simply didn’t bring it up and no one ever asked. It wasn’t lying because there were no suspicions of you two breaking off from the group and going and doing your own thing. If they ever caught wind of it, they never said anything.

It wasn’t anything more than just spending quality time in the company of a close friend. No romantic interest really. Was Danny attractive? Of course. He was literally one of the most sought after boys in your graduating class, but you wouldn’t see him in that light. To you, he was just Danny. And to Danny, you were just you.

That’s all it was.

Did you plan to lose your virginity to him on a random Wednesday night just a few weeks before you left for school? Absolutely not. But if there was someone you were glad it happened with. It was Danny.

You two had reconvened for a movie night, sprawled out on the couch in your basement, watching a movie that Danny had brought over, but your mind was elsewhere tonight. You had been chatting with one of your friends about moving away for school and when she found out you were a virgin, she was quick to suggest you have that taken care of before going off to school.

It gnawed at you for days following the encounter. Was going off to college a virgin really that big of a deal? According to her and whatever census she had read or taken, yes it was. Danny had noticed you were off tonight, your mind wandering into an abyss he knew you could occasionally get trapped in.

He nudged you with his foot, pausing the movie after you missed the big gag of the movie. “What’s up with you?” Your eyes snapped up to his, flurried with confusion and questions. Your fingers played with themselves, lip tucked in between your front teeth, but you shook your head. “Nothing, why?”

Rolling his eyes, he sat up and moved closer to you. “Come on. What’s wrong?” Should you ask him this? Was it your place to even know this information? You knew he was your best friend, but this topic was much more suited for someone like Sam. Battling yourself in your mind, you finally decided to just blurt it out at him.

“Are you a virgin?” His eyes went wide as he blinked once at your question before breaking into hard laughter. You pouted at him as he tried to catch his breath. Slapping him away from you as he rolled closer to you, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, you were annoyed. “Wha-what? What the hell brought that on?”

Finally catching his breath, he was able to ask you that question. Grumbling under your breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Nothing.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him inching closer to you despite you moving further from him, but to no avail as you were at the corner of the sofa.

“Seriously, what happened? Why do you want to know that?” Your eyes were glued to the paused tv screen, shaking your head as your only response. “I’m teasing you! It was just really out of the blue.” Peeling your eyes back to him, only slightly, he was smiling at you.

“Why do you want to know?” You huffed a small sigh, eyes falling down to your lap at the frayed blanket that lay over you. “Because I was talking with Sarah and she said that if I go to college as a virgin it’ll totally be a hindrance or whatever.”

His brows drew in, confusion etched across his face. “That makes no sense.” You groaned, hands flailing as you did. “I know! But what if she’s right? What if I get there and a guy finds out I’ve never had sex and then won’t do anything with me? Then word spreads and I’m a total outcast.”

Danny rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “That won’t happen. I can guarantee you.” Mumbling, you ignored his words. He obviously wasn’t understanding your issue with this. He had no idea what you were talking about. “Yeah well, you’re not a virgin so you don’t get it.”

“Yes I am.”

Your head flashed up, eyes connecting with him at his words. “What?” He nodded with a shrug, acting like it was entirely obvious. “Yeah. There just hasn’t been, I don’t know, a right time or person. Just hasn’t felt right.” He was acting so nonchalant about the entire thing, it was flabbergasting to you.

“But what about prom? You took Susie and you guys had a hotel after.” He closed his eyes, reliving the memory as he laughed. “She got so plastered at prom that she literally got to the hotel room and passed out on the bed. I ended up sleeping on the couch.” Your brows furrowed, shaking your head, uttering an apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

He beamed at you, chuckling. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not an embarrassing thing. It’s literally a construct, nothing more.” His eyes connected with yours and softened. “Bug?” You squeaked out, nerves wracking your body at the sheer idea of what you were about to ask.

Humming in response, he took your hand in his overly large one, calluses from the drum sticks hardening some of the skin. “Would you-would you ever,” you couldn’t even get the question out before he spoke out over you. “The only person I’ve ever thought about going that far with is you.”

Swallowing thickly, you felt like you were going to choke on your tongue. The stare between you both was so intense that you were scared to do anything but look into the incredibly dark irises that pinned you to the couch. Slowly, Danny moved closer to you, calve held in his hand as he extended your leg.

Danny knew what you were going to ask him. He wanted to make this as easy as possible and didn’t want you to feel like you had to outright ask him. It was all he had ever thought of. Exchanging this encounter was a big deal and there was no one else he would have rather done it with.

Both of you were breathless, entirely nude as you laid on your couch, fighting for the shared breath between you both. Before Danny made any further moves despite how far you two had gotten, he was entirely shaking, choking on his own words as he spoke out. “Are-are you su-sure, bug?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you caught his lips against your own, breath hitching in your throat as Danny entered you for the first time. Eyes squeezing shut, you wanted to savor this moment, searing it into your memory. Feeling nothing but comfort and serenity with him.

As you two came down from your fast highs, Danny rested his forehead against your own, chasing your lips, over and over. He laid down on top of you, wild curls splayed across your chest. His heavy head laid on your bare skin, listening to the quick beat of your heart. Both giggling out at what had just happened as you enclosed him in your arms.

It wasn’t what you were expecting to happen, but you were beyond happy it had. The experience was everything you had ever hoped for, with the person you trusted most in the world. Forming a bond that you weren’t entirely sure what to do with. Unsure of what it meant for the future, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t able to form anymore.

You went to school the next week, taking on a new life as you went to experience what you had heard was supposed to be one of the best, but most stressful times of your life. But you knew that no matter what you did, where you went, that Danny would always be there for you. Danny knew that it was the same for you too. As he and the band took off, he knew that when he came home for breaks it would be the same every time. Both of you waiting patiently for the other to come back.

Even though it was incredibly selfish on both of your parts. It was okay, because for the time being, you were allowed to be just that. Selfish.

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin’ I could write my name on it

Will you call when you’re back at school?

I remember thinkin’ I had you

The first two semesters of school nearly annihilated you. No, really. They were beyond rough. After a tough lesson your first semester of why 8am lectures were never a good idea, you knew better going into your second semester. Afternoon and evening lectures were your friend.

The course load you had on your plate was crushing. That’s why when spring break rolled around, you were more than content to come back home and relax by the pool for a full two weeks. Of course, that plan was foiled by your gang planning their own homecoming for the same time. And they all loved the fact that you had a pool.

It’s why you had music blaring through the outside speakers, the smell of barbecue wafting through the yard, and the sounds of pool splashing filled your ears. This wasn’t a bad way to be spending break. Not at all.

Especially when Danny was practically naked in front of you the entire time. Since he had shown up at your house and enclosed you in a massive embrace the night you had flown in, you two had hardly spent any time apart.

He had slept at your house that night, squeezing into your full size mattress, not wanting to be apart from you after having slept together the second he stepped into your room. Every day after that, you two were either with the group or you were getting texts from him about secret meetings.

Nearly every single day of the full two weeks you were home had the group at your house, enjoying the warmer weather and pool. It came with the ground rules of being the owner of the pool. You almost always had to expect people to optimize using it. Today was of course no exception.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes off the boy as he lifted himself on the edge of the pool, newly tanned skinned from spending nearly every single day outside, glistening from the water droplets clinging to his torso, muscled back contracting as he used his arms. Nearly had your mouth watering until your attention was ripped away, Jake shaking his wet hair out as he plopped himself down on the edge of your seat.

“When do you fly back to school?” You sighed, setting your book on the table next to you. “Tomorrow night. I have class first thing Monday afternoon.” He groaned, leaning back against your tucked legs, back sitting soundly on your shins. “Us too.”

You only hummed in response, eyes instinctively connecting with him from across the way. He had heard your small conversation with his brother, eyes burning in desire. Subconsciously clenching your legs together, knowing that tonight was going to be your last chance to spend with him until god knows when. It had to count.

Danny only texted you an address and told you to be there around eight. As you traveled to the location he had sent, you were confused as you looked around and saw no surrounding buildings. Yet, when you saw his old truck and a small camp made up, you pulled over quickly.

Rushing over to him, Danny caught you, instantly connecting you both. Your hands held his jaw, his arms wrapped around your waist, both moaning in utter relief, not even able to spend a full twenty-four hours apart without insane desire burning through you both.

When you finally pulled away, you took in the sight. Some small lights were at the four corners of the air mattress. Pillows and blankets filled the space, calling you to lay down in its warm embrace. You did exactly that, pulling Danny with you.

As the sun set and the stars came out and glistened along the sky, you felt the chill rush down your spine. Straddling him, your neck craned back, looking at the moon and its friends decorating the sky. “God, look at that!” You breathed out, entirely forgetting what you two had just finished moments earlier.

His hands still held firm to your hips, not even looking behind you, just directly at you. Enamored with what he saw before him. The moonlight lit up behind you, casting you in a glow that was rare to observe. He felt like the chosen one, being lucky enough to witness this.

Climbing off of him, you laid next to him, wrapping the sheet around yourself as your head rolled over, seeing his sharp features already looking straight at you. Your face lit up in a wide grin at his locks held up in a loose ponytail.

“Where do you guys go next?” You finally asked after you two held each other’s gaze, fingers linking together as he pulled you closer towards him, not wanting you to be too far. He sighed, “Nashville. Still working on the album and setting up tour dates.” You hummed, eyes slipping shut as the warmth of his body seeped into your bones.

The sheet was wrapped around your nude frame loosely, only draped lowly on his waist. The stars danced in the sky, not a cloud to cover them. You could hear various insects chirping in the distance of the field you sat in. Only basking in the moonlight as it soaked you both in its glamorous rays.

Danny sat up after being in silence for a beat too long. Clearing his throat, he didn’t want to turn and look at you. To see your reaction to what he was about to take the time to ask you. What he had been grappling with since you had left for school months ago.

“Are you going to call me? When you’re back at school?” You sat up to match him, lips dancing nervously on the bare skin of his back. Wrapping the sheet tighter around yourself, you rested your chin on his shoulder, brushing some of his hair away from the skin, you placed another chaste kiss there.

Before you spoke, you wanted a second more to enjoy this. Before it was ruined by what your response was going to be to him. Instead, you took the hair tie from his locks and did his hair for him. Fixing it to hold the hair up and out of his gorgeous face that he had hidden from you. Letting his tense muscles come into better view.

Beautiful.

He shivered at your touch, eyes closing as he sat waiting for your response despite knowing what it was going to be. “Why can’t we just have this?” It was whisper quiet, only carried by the soft breeze that danced across the grass you were currently laid in. Nodding, he wrapped his arms around you, turning and bringing you back to his embrace.

Listening to his steady heartbeat beneath your ear, you basked in the warmth his arms offered you. The serene comfort that you could only seem to find with Danny. It wasn’t what you had wanted to say. Not in the least, but it was what you had to say.

It would be too hard. With him and the boys' music exploding as it was, you with school preoccupying any and all of your time, it wouldn’t work. What could work was knowing that the other would always be there during the breaks. To retreat back to one another and do this over and over would work.

It was just what you had to do. Danny knew that too despite how much it shredded him to hear it actually said. The band was taking off at lightning speed in a way none of them had anticipated and he knew that there was no way he would be able to juggle both. Not right now.

But he knew that you would be back in the summer and he would be too and it would pick right back up. That thought brought him comfort to combat the sadness that sat deep in his soul and burrowed.

Hope.

Back when we were still changin’ for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you’d call

And say, “Meet me behind the mall”

So much for summer love and saying “us”

Cause you weren’t mine to lose

You weren’t mine to lose, no

And that was exactly how it continued on. For a few years actually. Up until spring and summer breaks weren’t a thing anymore because college had rapidly come to a close. That was one thing about entering the real world. Those breaks didn’t exist. Which meant that whatever you and Danny had didn’t exist anymore either.

Knowing that they would be there to see you at those sure times, no question about it. Where he would be waiting for you with a warm embrace and the best time of your life. It all came to a close when you landed your big girl job, Greta Van Fleet became a global sensation, and adult life swept you both up in very different ways.

No time for those silly summer flings that clenched your heart in unexplainable ways whenever you thought back to them. Whenever you thought back to him. That’s why when you got a call from them asking if you could take a bit of a vacation to meet them, you jumped at the chance. Especially when you found out where they wanted you to meet.

In the middle of their great European trek. To watch them perform for adoring fans, see what they had blossomed into after all this time. No longer the garage band you sat in on to watch their practices nearly every single day. Instead, now globe trotting rockstars.

Transforming into these grown men, who you honestly would never see as such, was…odd. Seeing the familiar permed ball of frizzy curls always brought a sense of comfort to you, but the on-stage bedazzled jumpsuits and rhinestones had you giggling at his love of performance shouted out to the world. The always long locks of the brothers who could’ve been classified as twins more so than the actual twins, newly adorned facial hair had you rolling your eyes at their attempt to be “men”. Then there was Danny.

No more of the unkempt curls, but instead nourished well formed ringlets and bangs. New found fashion of button ups that were almost entirely unbuttoned and tight pants that left little to the imagination. Built form instead of the strong skinny you were used to. He was utterly breathtaking as you took him in.

You yourself had changed much as well much to the surprise of the brothers. It wasn’t a one sided transformation, but instead something that happened on all fronts for everyone. A part of growing up. It didn’t stop the yearning that settled deep in your bones whenever your eyes connected with his though.

He knew exactly what you were feeling. It was reciprocated and he was itching to find a way to get you two to sneak off together. Just like old times. Something he thought about far too often, but would adamantly deny if it was ever brought up. When your phone went off at a group dinner after watching a show stopping performance from the brothers, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Danny had concocted an entire tale to be able to spend the day with you tomorrow. One that you bit back a smile at as he explained to the brothers why he was going to be absent from their group tomorrow and why you were going to also be gone tomorrow evening. It worked perfectly. Not a single question asked.

You two were sitting at a candlelit table on a balcony overlooking the city, snorting in laughter at the stories you both had missed from everyday life. Your heart ached as you listened to the insane stories of the life he now lived, what you dreamed you could be doing with him. He couldn’t explain the sadness that sat deep in his gut as you chortled through story after story of your workplace and coworkers.

As giggles died down, setting your now empty wine glass on the table, you let a deep sigh you didn’t know you had been holding escape into the night. His soft eyes held your gaze, smile never diminishing as he watched you battle your thoughts. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Well, Danny, it sounds like you are literally living the dream.” He shrugged, polishing off his drink and leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, it’s not too bad.” You rolled your eyes at his candor. Eyes slightly squinting in his direction, you nearly tripped over your tongue as the words expelled from you. “Still interested in your old fling, then?”

He had been waiting for you to ask all night. There would never be a time in his life where you weren’t always playing in his thoughts in some way or another. As he had been traveling the world, all he had been thinking about was how you should’ve been by his side for everything. How it didn’t make sense that you weren’t there. That he missed you more than he could put into words. This evening had been the best one he had spent in the last year on the road.

“Always.”

Danny took you back to a hotel room that night that he booked with you in tow. Giggling as you stood at the check in counter, he told them he didn’t care what kind of room was available as long as there was a room. The suite was extravagant and more money than you would ever know what to do with just sitting in your bank account, but he didn’t even bat an eye.

The entire evening you had spent within his grasp. Reliving past memories and experiences you thought would never happen again. Nearly destroying a hotel suite together after having sex on every surface you could find. Desperate to feel his muscles contract as he reached finish after finish. To see his face contort in a way that it only did when pure bliss washed over him. Only when he was experiencing this with you.

The rustled sheets and blankets were strewn about the room despite the top sheet you two were hidden beneath. Feeling his gentle breathing as he slept soundly underneath you, holding you to him. Not wanting to let you go. Not again.

Despite how wonderful and mind numbing the time had been together, it was a jarring realization of what exactly was going on between you two. The harbored feelings that you had kept at bay for far too long crashing to the surface only to be shunned away from the harsh reality of what lay before you.

That it would never work. That as time continued on and you two continued changing through the times that it was only ripping you further apart. Such different points of life that you two sat in, you couldn’t even begin to see him from where you were standing. How he was living his life without you and enjoying himself more than you would ever begin to understand.

The stories you shared were the only highs you could offer him. The rest of your time was spent in a mundane existence that you could only dream about spending with him. That Danny would make better in a way that only he could. Knowing that after telling yourself for exponential amounts of time that he wasn’t thinking about you, didn’t need you, you didn’t truly believe that.

This evening proved that.

You crept out of the room before the sun rose that morning. Not wanting to be there when he woke up to face that light together. You wouldn’t do that to yourself. Because you loved him too much. Too damn much.

Instead, you were going to survive off the hope that maybe one day way down the road there would be a glimmer of chance for you two. That chance didn’t exist yet, but maybe one day it would. Because that was all you had to go on.

Hope.

Your phone dinged into the room, vibrating against the wood of your nightstand table. You were getting ready to go see a movie with one of your friends and you thought the message was going to be from her that she was on her way.

Instead, Danny’s name sat on your screen, telling you that you needed to meet behind the mall at nine that night. One of your secret rendezvous points that no one would ever think to check into.

Quickly messaging your other friend that you weren’t feeling your best that night and would have to cancel, you haphazardly changed your clothes and rushed out the door. He was already there waiting for you when you arrived. Arms enclosing around you and placing chaste kisses all over your face, neck, and arms.

Laughter echoing off the buildings as you weakly fought him off. “Where we going tonight?” You asked as he wrapped you in his embrace and started to move you both towards his truck. “Ah, that’s a surprise, bug.”

The entire drive to the top secret location, you were tucked into his side as he drove, lips occasionally dancing across your hairline and temples. It was a fact that whenever you were with Danny that you were always beaming. He loved it. Seeing you so utterly happy. It was unlike any feeling he could describe.

When you sat in an empty field that you two frequented together, he was smiling brightly, grabbing all of the supplies he had packed in the back of his truck. “We are watching the meteor shower tonight,” he finally told you as he made the bed of his truck into a makeshift bed for you both.

You had briefly mentioned this to him last week, but in actuality it was to the entire group, not realizing Danny had picked up on what you had mentioned. Crawling in between his legs, you back connected with his chest, letting his arms drape over you.

With heads inclined up, you two watched the meteor shower for hours. They traveled across the sky so quickly you would miss them if you blinked. It had been quiet for most of the night, Danny just letting you enjoy this.

It nearly startled him when you began talking. “Danny?” His lips pressed into the crown of your head, letting you know that he was listening. “Can you promise me something?” You were speaking quietly. Not wanting to spook the night. Worried that if you were to raise your voice, it would startle the stars from their resting spots.

Speaking again before he had the chance to, it was choked out. “Promise me it’ll always be us, Danny.” Without a moment of hesitation, he tipped your head back, locking eyes with you as he lightly pecked your lips.

“Always.”

Nearly crying the entire flight home, you were filled with disappointment. They had dropped you off at the airport after a few wonderful days together, Danny hardly able to look you in the eyes. When he had woken up without you by his side, he couldn’t understand why you would have left. Maybe everything he had thought you two had was all a figment of his imagination. Something he had concocted in his mind to cope with the unreturned feelings he had for longer then he could begin to explain.

All you had wanted was for him to stop you from getting on that plane and going back home. It was too much to ask. You knew that. You knew that Danny was never yours to lose. So why did it feel like you were?

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

Cause you were never mine

Every time you and Danny managed to sneak away from everyone it almost always was something different. Making sure to escape to somewhere you wouldn’t accidentally run into someone you weren’t supposed to be seeing.

Sometimes it meant going to the arcade, movies, or ice cream. Always the next town over just to be safe, but still. It meant getting to spend time with him while you could. Before August would come to a close and you would part once more.

Any time you could spend together was utter bliss. The summer months meant freedom, but it always held a deeper meaning to you. Summer was Danny.

Every break wasn’t always the same though. You weren’t naive enough to believe that you were the only person Danny was seeing year round, but it was a stab to the chest when you came home for Christmas and saw he had someone else under his arm.

In the spot you should’ve been. But you knew it wasn’t fair to think like that. Danny wasn’t yours. The relationship wasn’t yours. There wasn’t a relationship there to claim. Instead, you forced a smile to your face and refused to look in their direction for the family Christmas party.

By the time summer had rolled around again, you both found yourselves partnerless and ready to immerse yourselves back into each other. Your parents had left for a week-long cruise through the Florida keys which meant you had the house all to yourself while they were gone.

Which meant spending time with Danny every single night.

He hadn’t left your house all week. You two had purchased enough food and drinks to last the entire time. Lying to friends that you had gone with your parents and that Danny was off visiting some distant relatives for the week had meant you two were golden.

Danny hardly let you out of his sight the entire time. Having christened the entire home, you two were laid in your living room on the final night, drunk on champagne you had purchased for brunch, but ended up not using for that purpose. Never having reached brunch.

The fireplace was the only light source in the room, tv playing lowly in the back, you were sat atop Danny’s lap, bottle in hand and swigging from it. He was speechless, seeing you in this light, nude on his lap and seeing you unbelievably happy.

The happiest he was sure he had ever seen you. The happiest he had ever been. He didn’t understand what he was feeling as he watched you. Relief? Content? Love?

No, of course not. It wouldn’t make sense. It didn’t in his mind. That’s why he tabled it, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, just wanting to spend the time he had with you, with you. No pressure, no anxiety, no expectations. Just the time you two spent together where it was just you two.

What summer was for you, it was for Danny. You were summer.

When Thanksgiving came, you were nervous. Extremely nervous to even be attempting to do this in front of your family and closest friends. In front of Danny. Everyone was warm and welcome to offer a seat at the table for your new partner. Nothing serious you noted, but wanting to get your mother off your back about bringing someone home, you bit the bullet and drug him along with you.

Now as you felt eyes burning a hole into the side of your head, you were wracked with regret. You knew it was going to be hurtful to him. That’s why you didn’t want to do it, but how could you explain whatever your situation was with Danny to them? You couldn't, which is exactly why you brought this guy.

Danny had never experienced these feelings before. Jealousy, sadness, anger to this degree. But he had to be fine with this because you weren’t his to put some sort of ridiculous claim on. No matter how much he wanted to.

You weren’t his.

Back when I was living for the hope of it all

Carrying on with life was proving to be much more complicated than you had intended. If you knew this would be the outcome, you wouldn’t have gone in the first place. Moping around your home was proving futile to your mental health.

Go figure, right?

Curled up on your couch, you were startled when a pounding came from your front door. It was late, way too late for someone to just be casually showing up at your home. Slowly approaching the door, they knocked again, making you jump back just a couple of feet.

“Bug!”

Instantly standing up straight at the voice, you threw the door open. Danny stood there, clearly nervous to be standing at your front door. His eyes were bouncing around at you and the surroundings, your mouth agape like an idiot.

Blinking rapidly, you came back to your senses and fully opened the door and moved for him to come in as you grabbed his arm. “What-what the hell are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me? What’s going on?” You were rapid firing the questions off and as you went to ask another, he cut you off.

“I shouldn’t have let you get on that plane.”

You shut up. Facing him in utter confusion at his words, hearing the strained tone in which he spoke. Shaking your head, you didn't know what to say back. “I love you.” Was the next thing out of his mouth that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him to see him crossing the room to you. His hands cupped your cheeks as the tears fell down them. The tremble in his hands nearly disappeared entirely the moment he got his hands on you.

“I love you, bug and I know you love me.” Your chin wobbled at his words, vision blurred from the continuous stream. “I shouldn’t have let you get on that plane. I’m not watching you leave me again. I can’t do it.” His mouth was set as he finished, refusing to accept any but your confession of love.

Your hands went to his wrists, grabbing at the familiar skin that you missed dearly. “You are mine. You’ve been mine since we were teenagers! I love you and you’re not leaving me again.” You sniffed, trying to find your voice to respond to him.

“I love you.” You finally squeaked out. His eyes shut, relief flowing from his veins at the admission. Bringing you to him, he connected you both in a needy mess. It was all you two needed.

To be with one another past summer. Because despite Danny being summer, you knew that he was yours year round. And you were ready to stake that claim.

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