#he lost for so long and dreaming of it that he's steeped in really vivid internal imaginings.

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

If you’re interested in the secret life of models or baby momma drama, you’re well fed tonight. 

This story actually means a lot to me bc it deals with a lot of issues that I hold very dear (I stayed up last night and wrote like three chapters lol). That being said, the content may be a little triggering to some people: (eating disorders, slight alcoholism, pregnancy, discrimination, overall angst) 

There is also a slight mention of nsfw (she’s gotta get pregnant somehow) to begin with but besides that, it should be pretty safe

Reader discretion is advised.

HnM 💕

Month 2, Month 3

--MONTH 1--

“Mmmm…” 

The dazed hum of your own low voice peeled back a layer of sleep from your mind.

The cloud of blankets underneath you swallowed your body, tempting your stirring form to stay asleep for just a little longer. As your mind teetered upon the steep edge of unconsciousness, a flurry of scenes played in your head.

You let yourself fall into the random, vivid dreams as you finally gave up in your struggle against the warm embrace of the bed. The film that performed in your mind was a choppy one at best; however, you still caught glimpses of the action:

The dark room... The dancing city lights outside of the window… the low screeching of the rocking mattress underneath you… the breathless moans… looking down to see the mingling of scorching sweat, illuminated by the red light peeking through the window… looking up to see the flash of his even redder, vermilion eyes for just a split second before your lips were captured… the lewd mewls that you didn’t even notice until they were gone, caught in his warm mouth.

The quick, dreamy waves of erotica left just as soon as they came, their sudden disappearance sending a jolt of consciousness your direction.

What. A fucking. Wakeup call.

The bed once again flutily attempted to grab you and hold you back in your sleeping state, but you forced yourself to roll over into awareness. As your body turned, your eyes finally painfully pried themselves open. Once the brief sting of light passed, you found yourself smirking at what you saw,

Holy shit. Dreams do come true after all.

The man in bed with you—you finally realized that it was indeed his bed—was turned over on his side facing away from you, but that didn’t stop you from admiring the view.

His arms, godsent and chiseled by Michelangelo himself, extended from under the blanket-- one used as an extra pillow under his head, and the other laid peacefully on his side. As peaceful as the display was, you could still see the rippling muscles layered underneath his airbrushed skin. You could only begin to imagine what they looked like when he was flexing.

Suddenly images from last night of his strong arms pressing your legs up toward the headboard infiltrated your mind, and you didn’t have to imagine anything anymore. You bit the bottom of your lip to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Virtually immediately, your smile melted from your face and the sound of tires screeching blared within your head. What the fuck were you doing staring at this dude like some damn creep? What? Were you gonna wait for him to wake up to invite you to breakfast? Were you gonna go on a lunch date with some no-named dude you met at the “booty room.” As if.

God, ew.

You tried to ignore the fact that you had just been reduced to a soppy 16 year old all over again.

You gave one more passing glance over the top of his ash-blond hair before straightening your face with a with a quirk of an eyebrow and slowly pushing yourself out of his bed. You glanced out of the window and noticed only a thin stream of light peeking through the glass. Good. It was still early morning. Plenty of time to make it to work.

You would like to avoid Ainu’s bitching mouth today.

You fluffed your hair up, deciding to adopt the “after-sex hair” and make it your own as you scoured the bedroom floor for your dress from last night. You spotted it just a foot away from the door. Damn you really didn’t waste time, huh?

You fought the urge to laugh at yourself as you walked over and shimmied yourself back into the dress, some of the sparkles flying off as you shook your hips. You had found your panties just right next to the bed and your bra hanging off the lamp on the nightstand. You stifled a laugh at yourself as you slid the items on underneath your dress. What a fucking night.

Mostly everything at that point had been accounted for, but there was still one thing on your mental checklist that you couldn’t find—well, two things to be exact.

Okay…

Shoes... shoes… Where the fuck are your shoes?

As you continued searching for the shimmery heels, a sudden deep groan from the bed startled you a bit, causing you to freeze as you watched ‘good ol�� no-name’ stir in his sleep. You paused for a few long moments while he, thankfully, settled back into his slumber.

You let out a quiet breath of air that you hadn’t even known that you were holding and decided then and there that you could do without those shoes. If Cinderella could do it, why couldn’t you?

You quickly grabbed your handbag and phone from his nightstand and commenced your getaway.

I mean, you were obviously no virtuous princess and he was hardly prince charming from the foul mouth that you could remember from last night—insert blush here-- but still…

You turned the handle behind you as you softly shut the door so that it wouldn’t make much noise, only to turn around toward the hallway and be met with a pair of bright, crimson eyes. Caught red handed, You faltered a little bit as the built man in front of you became practically as scarlet as his hair,

“U-Uh-- Good morning!” Kirishima forced out as he obviously struggled to keep his eyes on your face. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down the chains of silver that barely held your dress on your shoulders.

Or the open slits on your upper thighs that let your shapely hips spill out from underneath your shimmering dress.

Or your obviously messed up hair that had probably spent much of the night between Bakugou’s fingers. He felt his face become unbearably hot at the intrusive thought.

His eyes flickered back up to yours, but not before you could notice the way that they seemed to trail down your body.

You relaxed into your chest a bit, Okay, just a roommate. He seemed fairly harmless and ‘SIMP’ enough not to raise many red flags or dangerous pervert alerts. You breathed into something resembling a laugh as you smirked up at him, “G’ Morning.”

Kirishima’s breath was caught in his lungs at the song of your voice, “M-morning…” Shit, did he already say that? The man suddenly became very aware of what he was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn’t wearing as a draft flew in from the pants leg of his boxers.

His blush almost instantly intensified—and he thanked every lucky star that he didn’t have the hormonal “tell-all” body of a teenager anymore.

You only smiled, brushing past the red-head, toward the front door. As you made your way past the kitchen you noticed a bowl of fruit displayed on the bar. Your mind quickly fleeted to thoughts of ‘what a weird fucking thing to see in what was obviously a man cave—o-or a bachelor pad. Man pad? Bachelor Cave???’ Did you accidentally wonder into a Martha Stewart catalog without realizing it?

As you eyed the odd arrangement of fruit, you didn’t even notice the other two roommates already situated in the open living room—their eyes wide as they trailed your form.

“Are these real?” you spoke up suddenly, startling Kirishima who was at this point deciding whether or not to go back into his room and pretend he hadn’t seen you and lost half of his brain, or to go to the kitchen for breakfast as he had planned. “Can I have one?” you shamelessly asked.

“Yeah! Sure!” Kirishima answered maybe a bit too strongly. The poor man just wanted to compensate for his totally unmanly display earlier. He just… he’d never seen anyone like you before. Especially not in his ‘humble’ (that was being generous) apartment.

That’s when one of the men from the living room decided to speak up, “You can have all of them, sweetheart,” his voice immediately snapped your attention toward the rather spacious (empty--except for a couch, a TV and a... bench press?) living room, where you came into contact with the speaker’s golden eyes, “Go on. Take as much as you want,” the kind smile he wore contained just the slightest hint of ulterior motives, you noticed. You take back what you said earlier. The real SIMP was right here.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Just one will do, thanks.” Your flat tone did nothing to disinterest Kaminari as he ogled at you grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and shoving it in your mouth when you noticed a pair of heels haphazardly tossed by the front door. Aha! There are your fucking shoes!

The electric blond watched in utter fascination as you held the fruit between your teeth and began slipping your heels back on. Holy shit. He was glad he woke up early for once.

Kirishima approached two of his roommates, shaking his head at the giddy one currently drooling over Bakugou’s overnight visitor,

“Get a grip, dude. It’s not manly to stare like that,” he lowly warned so you couldn’t hear. He felt like a bit of a hypocrite, but at least he was trying to maintain some decency. It seemed like Kaminari had simply thrown all of his fucks to give out of the window as he shamelessly eyed you like an Englishman on safari. Come on, bro!

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear her with Bakugou last night?!”

“How could I not, Sero? I’m pretty sure the entire complex heard!” Kaminari resentfully whispered to his two roommates before sweeping a hand through his blond locks and snaking his way towards you, “So… what’s your name, gorgeous?”

You could hardly hold back the look of disgust that fell upon your expression as you looked up at this man. Read the fucking room, dude. You couldn’t make this situation more obvious if you were wearing a damn sign on your head that said “One Night Stand: Hit It and Quit It,” and sprinted out of the apartment.

You didn’t want to make friends.

You didn’t want to introduce yourself to someone’s roommates when you didn’t even know their damn name.

And you sure as hell didn’t want to be passed around to said stranger’s roommates like a fucking bottle of wine at communion, “First name: Not, last name: Interested,” you deadpanned.

A series of “OHHHH’s” and “She got you, Bro! She got you good!” sounded throughout the apartment. As you swung the front door open, looking back one final time to see the look of absolute disheartenment spread across the blonds face, “Ba-bye~ Oh! and Thanks for the fruit, Red,” you winked before shutting the door behind you, unknowingly causing Kirishima to dissolve into a blushing mess.

You heard a bit of commotion come from the other side of the door when you left but didn’t pay it much mind as you began your walk to the nearest train station—taking another bite from your bachelor pad apple.

Bakugou, however, couldn’t ignore the commotion you had left behind as his scowling form emerged from his bedroom, “Could you idiots be any fucking louder!?” The blond was already in a terrible mood. He had woken up to fucking ketchup, mustard, and mayo’s shouting only to realize that his bed was suddenly much colder than he remembered it had been when he fell sleep.

The frustrated man was instantly met with his other blond counterpart throwing himself at his knees, “Bakugou, buddy!” he cried out, clutching the fabric of the other man’s sleepers, “You’ve gotta teach me your ways!” he groveled at his feet as if Bakugou was the lord and savior of in-cels everywhere.

“The hell are you talking about?” his hands crackled furiously as he seriously prepared to blast the dunce-face off of him, “get the fuck off’a me!” he roared.

Kirishima reluctantly spoke up, gaining the two blond’s attention and probably saving Kaminari’s life, “Honestly… I gotta say even I’m surprised. She was… unreal,” Kirishima’s cheeks dusted over in a light shade of pink just at the memory of you.

Even Bakugou had to mask the sudden warmness that fled to his own face as your image suddenly popped into his mind. He shoved the butterflies down into his stomach so that he could shit them out later, “What’s that supposed to mean, shitty hair?!”

Sero, who had previously just been silently enjoying the wild spectacle before him, had finally decided to give his input on the situation, “What Kirishima is trying to say is ‘how the hell did a sack of anger issues wrapped in a mean mug like yours score a chick like that?’”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, HORSE TEETH?!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Kirishima whined before Kaminari finally asked the question that had been lingering in all of their minds,

“Did you get at least get her number?” The matter gave birth to a few beats of silence between all the roommates. Bakugou visibly stiffened at this question as his face shriveled up.

“I don’t know… She seemed to get out of here in quite a hurry,” Sero contemplated aloud, effectively breaking the silence.

A tinge of pain shot straight through Bakugou’s pride at his words. You had practically run out of there—away from him. Was last night really that bad? He seemed to have a much different memory than you of the event.

Tch. Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter.

Shoving these thoughts out of his head, he scoffed, “Good. The hell do I need her number for?”

Silence once again befell the four—this time being disrupted by Kaminari, “You don’t know how good you have it,” he shook his head, “You don’t deserve half the things you get, man…”

Of course, this only caused the apartment to erupt into another fit of commotion—death threats and cheap insults being thrown in every space of the testosterone-filled home.

Meanwhile.

You tried to ignore the multitude of awkward stares you garnered as you made your way through the train station. They were probably—well, more than likely-- because of your racy evening wear, but shit. You didn’t exactly plan on getting dicked down last night. At least, maybe not on a conscious level.

You sighed before boarding the train and looking down to view the notifications on your phone. Oh crap, it was later in the day than you had originally thought.

Boss lady:

[7:42am]

Someone told me that you went to Club 52 last night.

You better not be hungover or wasted when you get here, Y/N

Inches! Y/N! I need you at your inches!

Ahhh. the old 35, 25, 35. The perfect body shape. Well, she can take all 85 of those inches and shove them up her ass for all you cared.

Boss Lady:

[8:03am]

I am serious.

Sick of  cleaning up your messes.

Don’t ever pull this shit again when we have such a big brand deal!

Remember. I have eyes everywhere, missy!

As the messages went on you only scanned them,

How could you do this to me Blah. Blah. Blah. I stuck my neck out for you Blah. Blah. Blah. Where else could someone like you find work as good as this Blah. Blah. Blah. Etcetera, etcetera.

Damn boss Lady was like a fucking broken record.

You closed your eyes on the train and tried to astral project your spirit to a better place. Somewhere where you didn’t have to take a shitty modeling job to pay your damn rent. Somewhere where you had an obtainable passion. Somewhere where you could do something meaningful with your life.

Somewhere where you weren’t just some damn pathetic quirkless girl whose only talent was looking good in front of a camera and taking bullshit.

“You’re late!” The bodies of women lit up by the hard lights on set seemed to all turn in your direction at your boss’s loud announcement. The aggressive clacking of her heels sounded in the air like gunshots as she stormed over to you, but you couldn’t be less impressed by her repetitive intimidation tactics,

“What are you talking about? It’s 9:00!”

“9:04! The shoot started at 9 and you don’t even have makeup on!” her nose crinkled in disgust as she neared you. The way that she dramatically gagged at your scent had your eyes rolling, “And you fucking smell like sex. Jesus fucking Christ Y/N! You. Intern! Get over here! Go hose her down!” she called your friend, Kimi, over, “You’re lucky I don’t ring your neck! The marketing agent will be here in less than an hour and he wants to see progress!” by this point Kimi had rushed over and began herding you away from the multitude of disapproving stares you had gathered from the other models.

But not before you heard whispers of your unprofessionalism.

“Now, go get your pretty ass presentable looking!” Boss lady shooed you off.

As your friend literally hosed you down in the bathroom with her hydropump quirk, she already had a bottle of body wash on hand-- completely desensitized to your naked body by this point. Neither of you said a word for a while, but you could tell that she was itching to speak up, “So…” a grin spread across her face as she rinsed the suds out of your hair, “Was he at least cute?”

“Super fucking attractive,” you gave a short laugh, “At least. I think so. I don’t really remember his face…”

Her loud laugh sounded through the bathroom before the space was once again covered within a thick sheet of silence. When the two of you were close to finished, she sighed at your idle, far off gaze before attempting to strike up a bit of conversation, “I really should be thanking you. You keep my job security, after all,” she joked.

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

She was pretty much hired to be your babysitter under the guise of “stylist intern” in Ainu’s modeling agency; however, when she was hired for this gig ‘frequently bathing a hungover, grown mess of a thot’ and ‘constant ginger ale, and Pepto Bismol runs’ were probably not in the job description.

“I keep my life a mess just for you,” you lazily smirked up at her.

“Your life is hardly a mess. You’re living the dream, supermodel girl.”

Your mind flashed back to girls around you eating cotton balls to satiate their hunger, to women working 10 hour long photo shoots in 6-inch heels, to being urged to give brand promoters “special attention” to secure the agency’s profits, to runway events that left you sleepless for days at a time, to your own fingers plunging down the back of your throat so that you could fit into the impossible dress sizes fitted by your designers, “Yeah...” you quietly trailed off.  

The shoot went fairly well, after your late start.

It was actually different than most others that you have participated in since the main focus was upon the red shoes that they wanted to promote. The photographer had decided—much to the dismay of the other models on set—that you would be a focal point in his artwork. Claiming that you had such a “sexy, sexy look” and were going to be huge one day.

Thanks creepy, middle-aged, French photographer. Now half of these girls are gonna cry themselves to sleep tonight and the other half are gonna create voodoo dolls of you to stick needles in.

Fairly well, or not, you couldn’t fight the urge to click your red sneaker soles together three times every now and then—internally chanting “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

Needless to say, it didn’t work.

It was about three weeks later when you found yourself at the official branding event of those stupid red sneakers. It was some kind of charity event/campaign/branding bullshit hybrid—or whatever.

Most of the models that were there the day of the original photo shoot weren’t even requested to go. Since you had been a focal point in that shoot, you were invited (forced) to attend by the brand marketer. Your uninvited colleagues of course, hated you even more after that, but you would trade places with any one of them in a heartbeat.

Your stomach bubbled a little bit—‘need vodka’ it cried.

You patted the poor organ in solidarity. You like to think that you are very in tune with your needs. You’d much rather be boozing it up in some sweaty booty club than be at… whatever the fuck this was.  

Everyone there was dressed up like it was some cocktail party or some christening or something. The large room was filled to the brim with tables with neatly folded napkins and different red and green finger foods on the centerpieces. There was a clearing in the middle, under the chandelier, for “dancing” but was really for people to socialize and network.

Hmmm. Not a red sneaker in sight except for the banners of photos from your shoot hanging from the ceiling, you noticed.

“Could you at least pretend to act interested?” boss lady whispered, “Smile a little, yeah?” Ainu completely rolled her eyes at the strained grimace of a smile you threw her—the glare she threw back saying ‘you little shit!’.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you began to drift away from one another—with her sending you one more lingering glance that said ‘stay away from the alcohol and don’t do anything stupid!’

Of course, you nodded like the obedient little clothing rack you were, but as soon as her back was turned you found yourself snatching a glass or two of chardonnay from one of the passing waiter’s trays. As you took a long sip from the glass—careful not to smudge your lipstick—you found your eyes wondering across the unimpressive room.

They ended up settling in the corner of the place, on a man standing alone, nervously fidgeting with his suit cuffs.

Ah. Quality entertainment! You took another sip from one of your glasses.

You nonchalantly strolled toward the man before twisting yourself around next to him so that you were both facing the growing crowd of the room, “All this for some red sneakers?” you spoke up with a slight grin.

His eyes immediately shot up to one of the banners hanging above you before settling back to your smirk, “Y-Y-your one of the models form the poster!” his face darkened into a deep blush and you slightly lifted one of your drinks into the air with a quirk of your eyebrow as if to say, ‘guilty as charged.’

He seemed to get over his shocked state quickly, “Well… uh-- I guess it does seem a little silly when you put it that way, huh?”

“Is there really any other way to put it?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment—his eyes trailing toward the ground in front of him, but you were patient. You took the time to take in his wild, green hair—it was dark, kinda like the seaweed that you wrap around sushi. Your mind flickered to what you remembered sushi tasting like, but it had been such a long time.  He finally spoke up “Well, they are giving half of the profits made to start a campaign to end the bullying of quirkless children,”

“Really?” your eyebrows shot up as the man looked back up to you. Your chest abruptly rose up as you gave a half chuckle, “That’s… well, that’s something. Apparently, this brand is being started by some up and coming hero. Deku? I haven’t really heard much about him, but he’s probably just using us quirkless folk as a stepping stool to celebrity,” he seemed to visibly stiffen at your words but it wasn’t every day that you got to talk about civil rights concerning the quirkless. You passionately continued, “It’s like saving kittens or walking an old lady across the street. I mean, what’s a big shot hero like that know about being quirkless? Tell me,” you leaned in close to him and nodded into the sea of people filing into the room, “Do you see a quirkless kid in sight, right now?”

You left him silent as he began pondering your statement. Hm! Good.

Satisfied with yourself, you took in the final sip from your remaining glass—tilting the curvy cup up into the sky to get every drop.

A tall man with glasses shuffled through the dense crowd to make his way towards the two of you “Midoriya, there he is! Excuse me, Miss,” he stiffly bowed to you at an awkwardly low angle before turning back toward the green haired man, “Come this way. Quickly. I would like to introduce you to…”

As he was pulled into the crowd by the weird tall man you found yourself curiously staring at where he had disappeared.

“Mmm. Isn’t he just as yummy as you thought he’d be?” the familiar voice snapped you straight out of your thoughts, startling you into a slight jump. You whipped your head behind you to see Kimi’s giggling face, “C’mon!! Ainu wants you to get some photos in at that set over there.”

“Ughhh, you know how I feel about red-carpet shoots, Kimi.” It was just a bunch of amateur photographers barking orders and questions at you like some glorified paparazzi. She ignored your whining as she dragged you to the literal red carpet in the far wall of the room, blocked off by a velvet rope and surrounded by a buzzing infestation of flashing cameras. You suddenly became very aware of the very chemical scent of her perfume—and the growing nausea twisting within your stomach.

“You can go find your hero boyfriend, later! I promise!” she practically shoved you onto the carpet, but you could only throw her a confused glance. Who was she talking about?

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t know who that was! We are literally in a room of heroes right now!! That guy that you were with? He’s the entire reason we are here right now, Y/N!” you could hardly fight off the look of confusion that befell your face as you began posing for the flashes of photos being taken of you. Whatever. You probably just looked like the confused bimbo that they all thought you were anyway.

Kimi smacked her hand on her forehead—tossing you an exasperated glance, “Hello!? Red sneakers—the Deku! I can’t believe you. He’s projected to be the number one hero in a few years—that Deku!”

You felt your blood immediately run cold.

The Deku you had put on blast directly to his face. The one who was endorsing this entire brand that your agency had a deal with—that Deku, “Oh. Shit.”

You suddenly felt very sick.

Meanwhile, the three stooges had finally dragged their grouchy roommate out of the apartment and had made their way into the Red Sneakers Event, much to the dismay of said grouchy roommate. He would quite literally prefer to be anywhere else but here. Hell, he would rather stick his head in a vat of acid than be at some dumbass “quirkless sneaker” party for that shitty Deku. There couldn’t possibly be any good reason for him to be here right now.

“Oh, shit!” Kaminari’s grating voice snapped Bakugou out of his thoughts. He looked up to where the blond was pointing, and his heart skipped a beat.

The banners adorning the ceiling of the space sported a very familiar face.

“Isn’t that your hottie from last month, Bakugou?” the electric man practically giggled with amusement, “Over there, too! She’s at the red carpet!” Bakugou’s red eyes danced over to the succession of flashing lights on the far side of the room. Somehow, even with the herd of photographers clumped behind the red rope, he could still make out your gleaming form. It was as if you radiated light, blinding him to anyone else between you and him.

What the fuck? Where did those thoughts come from?

With a click of his tongue the blond instantly spat these feelings out of his head.

“Huh!” Kirishima tilted his head and gave a short, amazed laugh as well, “Look at that-- it totally is!”

Sero decided to chime in as well, completing the unholy trinity of pains on Bakugou’s ass, “Of course she’s a model. Dude, how did you trick that poor girl into your bed?” It took every ounce of willpower that the ash blond could muster not to blow ‘Elbow’s’ face off right then and there as he ground his teeth together.

Kirishima bravely leaned over to the seething man, “You should go say something to her.”

“Why the hell would I do that!?”

“Because if you don’t, I will,” Kaminari straightened his tie like he was grooming himself to approach you. Fucking as if!

“Like she’d be interested in your dumb ass!” Bakugou loudly snapped.

“That sounds pretty possessive Baku-bro,” Sero hardly ever called him this unless he wanted to get under the time-bomb of a man’s skin, “Almost like you have feelings~,” him and Kaminari began snickering to themselves as Bakugou neared the maximum capacity of his internal ‘pissed off-o-meter.’

The two men laid off of him a bit—knowing very well by this point what buttons to push and when to stop pushing them when it came to their feral friend.

“Looks like you’re missing your chance,” Kirishima spoke up—nodding his head to your fleeing figure. “I think she’s leaving.” Bakugou looked up to see your desperate form dash for the coat racks in the corner of the room.

As you made your way to the coat racks, you were completely oblivious to the lingering eyes that followed you—only focused on the furious ones that approached you and the rising, gurgling feeling in your stomach.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” your pissed off boss halted you right by the coat rack—Kimi, trailing not to behind you, was halted as well, “The event has hardly even started!”

“I don’t…” the bubbling in your stomach shot up your throat and was hardly caught in time as you slightly gagged, “I don’t feel too good, Ainu…”

She could only groan into her palm as she threw her head up toward the ceiling, “I told your ass not to—Ughhhh! Can’t you go one night without getting utterly shitfaced, Y/N!?”

Kimi reluctantly spoke up, “She hardly drank tonight. I think she really is sick,” her voice was very soft in the air as she defended you, and you realized that this is the first time you’d ever heard her talk to your boss directly.

Ainu’s eyes seemed to dance across yours and Kimi’s for a few beats—probably to gauge whether there was truth to Kimi’s words-- before she finally made up her mind, “Fine. Go on,”’ she tilted her head toward the direction of the exit with an irritated wave of her hand, “Take her home.”

“No,” you moved past Ainu toward the coat rack, “I think I can make it on my own,” you argued before shimming your fur on. After a mini dispute, your friend reluctantly agreed to let you make your way home alone.

Bakugou watched on as you gave the women that were with you tiny half-assed hugs before making your way toward the room’s exit—towards him. For the first time in practically forever, the man felt his heart drop down into his toes.

The four roommates all paused as you approached them. You were for sure going to see Bakugou and say something to him, right?

Wrong.

All three friends noticeably winced as you nonchalantly brushed pasted the four of him, not even sparing a passing glance at their shocked, blond comrade. “Oof. That’s gotta hurt,” Kaminari grimaced.

Sero’s lips stretched into an uncomfortable frown, “I don’t even think she recognized you, man.”

Kirishima could only remain silent as he watched a flurry of unfamiliar emotions flicker across his best friend’s face. Even if his buddy wasn’t clearly and uncharacteristically upset, he would still probably be at a loss of words from the secondhand embarrassment that was flooding into his cheeks.

“SHUT UP!” Bakugou snapped, pulling his face back into his trademark scowl, “What the hell do I care? I already slept with her. What else is there to do?” I don’t fucking care, I don’t fucking care. The man chanted to himself as he shoved his body into the crowd—anything to get away from those shitty dumbasses.

Sero gave a low whistle, “Wounded words, from a wounded man.”

When you made it back home that night, you spent the better part of the evening with your head glued to the toilet, and you really fucking didn’t understand why.

Two glasses were practically a baby bottle to you at this point. There is no way that you got sick off just that. So… food poisoning then? You fought a laugh at the amusing thought. You have to actually eat for that to happen.

Shit. And you were cramping like a mother fucker.

You instinctively opened you phone brushing past the ‘Are you okay?’ text from Kimi to make your way to your period tracker app. Maybe it was almost ‘that time of the month.’

A lot of girls that you knew had lost their periods from the severe “weight training” that they endured, but you had actually been regular with yours despite your everyday living.

The app opened—revealing a visually loud, bouncing notification that prompted a different breed of nausea to spin within your gut.

You were about two weeks late.

[egcdeath]

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 2: white picket fence

previous chapter

chapter summary: you learn a bit more about the situation at hand, and gain a sliver of hope for the future

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, but a temporary happy ending

word count: 1.9k

author’s note: hopefully the trajectory of this fic will make a little more sense after this chapter, and the next. all feedback and reblogs are appreciated & let me know if you’d like to be added to the story’s tag list!

A breeze blew by idly, shaking the flowers that surrounded you in the field just slightly. You seemed to be lost in your own head, relaxing on your back and basking in the serenity of watching the sunrise. The soft crunch of footsteps approaching alerted you of someone else’s presence, and you moved your gaze to follow the sound.

You were shocked at the vision of your lover, although he seemed to be a frequent subject of your thoughts and dreams these days. Still, you gasped out, “Steve?”

“Y/N,” he responded excitedly, nearly sliding in an attempt to sit down next to you.

“How did you find me here?” your brows furrowed as you looked at the man, something a bit off about his presence.

“You know that I’d find you anywhere,” he told you, looking over at you as you shook your head, and turned your away from him.

“Then why did you leave?” You asked, biting back bitter tears. “You promised me that you’d never leave,” you muttered with a wobble in your voice.

He reached a calloused hand out to your face, and gently turned it back towards him. “I’m so sorry. I made a really big mistake, an-and now I can’t get back. I’m gonna try to find you, but you have to help me.”

“You’re just my brain telling me what I want to hear,” you whimpered, sitting up.

“No Y/N, it’s me. Really me. It’s so hard to explain, but I messed up really bad. I need you to try to find me too. But I don’t even know if we’re in the same universe anymore.”

You gave Steve a strange look at this point, wiping your face with the back of your hand and huffing softly. This did seem a bit far fetched for your subconscious to conjure up on its own.

A loud and sharp sound interrupted your thoughts, and in an instant, the field of flowers began to fade into obscurity, daffodils and pink tulips turning to nothing more than smudges of pastels against a similarly smudged pale sunrise.

Yet through the dissolving of the dream, and the distorted noise of what you could only assume was your alarm clock, Steve remained. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “I just want to be with you again. Please,” he paused, “bring me back home.” He begged, “back to you,” he pleaded before vanishing as well.

—

You woke up in a pool of your own sweat, your phone’s alarm ringing obnoxiously, as you used one hand to turn it off, and another to dry the steady stream of tears that had escaped your eyes at some point during your rest.

You had to admit, that was a rather bizarre dream. You’d had your fair share of dreams about Steve since his departure, yet none as vivid as this. Although it was just a dream, it felt like something more. A message, even. You grabbed your phone, and rushed to type in a recap of the event into your notes app, before rubbing the rest of the sleep out of your eyes, and heading out to the kitchen of the Compound to find someone else to confide in.

Lo and behold, Banner stood in the kitchen steeping a cup of green tea.

“Morning, Y/N. How’d you sleep?” He asked, taking a sip of the drink, before taking a seat at the dining table.

You chuckled softly to yourself, and approached the Nespresso machine, “That’s a great question. I guess I slept fine, but Steve was there.”

“Again?” Bruce questioned, setting down his mug.

“Yeah, but it was kind of different. He basically told me that he was stuck and needed me to help him,” you popped a pod into the machine, then slid your own mug under the spout.

“That is different,” Bruce agreed. “What do you think is going on in that brain of yours?”

“No idea. It was just so weird, because he told me that he thinks he’s in a completely different universe. Uh, he was just being vague about some mistake he’d made.”

“Hmm,” Bruce grumbled pensively while the sound of your coffee pouring also filled your ears “What do you think happened? Weird dream, or meaningful dream?”

You shrugged hopelessly, then looked down at the floor as Natasha entered the room. “Morning, assholes,” she greeted, shuffling over to where you were standing by the counter, and giving you a classic Nat half hug upon seeing your bloodshot eyes, indicating another tumultuous night. “How’re you holding up, babe?”

You simply shrugged again in response, grabbing your now filled mug, and setting it down on the counter.

“She had another dream about him,” Bruce informed Nat.

“You poor thing,” she said genuinely, despite her words’ sarcastic nature. As you sat down at the counter seats, Nat began to make her own drink. “I know you guys were close, but it might be time to let go. You need closure, and maybe allowing yourself to grieve will help you to not dream about him so often.”

You stared down into the dark liquid, and frowned as you saw a hint of your unkempt reflection. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m worried. What he was saying in my dream was basically a cry for help. I know, it could just be me projecting, but it just felt so real…” your voice trailed off, and you glanced up to see Bruce and Natasha sharing a concerned look.

“You guys think I’m crazy don’t you? Great. Fine. I’m gonna go train,” You muttered, grabbing your mugs handle and slipping out of your seat before leaving the kitchen. You couldn’t stand being judged in that moment. Was a little support from your friends too much to ask for?

——

Aware that your teammates didn’t believe the weight of your dreams, you seeked out Wanda, and practically begged her to read your memories and relay them back to the team as a way to gain another witness, and possibly get Steve the help that he might need.

If Steve was truly trapped in another universe, perhaps the scientists on the team could create technology that could help bring him back.

As you’d expected, Wanda giving her testimony on what she’d seen in your subconscious to your teammates had helped your case significantly. Although a bit hesitant, Tony and Bruce were desperate to get Steve back, and if it meant going on a wild goose chase, they were open to taking that risk.

Sooner than later, a small watch was created that seemed to be able to harbor the ability to jump into different universes throughout the multiverse.

You were sitting in the common room, playing a game of chess with Thor, when the trifecta of Tony, Bruce, and Wanda approached you with a small device that appeared to be some sort of smart watch.

“Y/N, you’re going on a mission,” Tony began. “We have good reason to believe that Steve is in fact, in some other universe somewhere in the multiverse. We have no idea how he contacted you, but if your connection to him is strong enough that he can talk to you in your dreams, there’s not a doubt, well, maybe like three doubts, in my mind that you can find him in a different universe.” The watch was passed into your hand.

“Some things we’ve figured out through a few practice runs is that in these universes, you already kind of technically exist. You may have to try to come up with certain memories on the spot, but for the most part, you should remember what your life is like in that universe as soon as you get there, and fit right in.

Now, the time that you can stay varies in each universe. For some, it’s a long time. Maybe even years. But in others, you might only be able to stay for a matter of minutes. It really just depends on how time works in their reality. About thirty seconds before you’re automatically sent to a different reality, you’ll get a little vibration on your wrist that’ll tell you it’s time to go.

If you need to leave before that vibration, there’s a setting that allows you to do so. You can also come back to this specific universe anytime you need to, but we’re under the impression that it’ll take less of an overall toll on you if you just go straight from one universe to the next.” Bruce added.

“Remember, your mission is to find Steve and bring him back, okay? There are infinite amounts of universes out there, so there are infinite versions of Steve you might come across. Please don’t bring whoever else you might fall in love with back here,” Wanda teased. “We don’t need any more trouble with the time and universe cops.”

You chuckled stiffly, but were trying to really absorb the information you’d just been loaded with.

“You can leave whenever you’re ready. Right now, tonight, a week. Whenever, okay?” Bruce told you, and you simply nodded. “Alright. Safe travels, okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You think we’re doing this for you? We want our Capsicle back!” Tony teased. You shook your head fondly, then exited the room, going to your bedroom for some peace and quiet, and to attempt to process everything you’d just heard.

You wrapped the watch band across your wrist, then scrolled up and down the interface, surprised at everything it could do. Yet,  before you could even say ‘wow,’ the world seemed to fade to black.

——

When you opened your eyes, you were standing in the same field outside of the compound that you’d been standing in just a few days prior, reliving the final moments you’d shared with Steve.

Except, Steve wasn’t the one standing on the platform. In fact, Steve was standing next to you, his hand squeezing yours in the comforting manner that you’d grown to know over the past six years. The both of you watched Thor wave a friendly goodbye, then disappear into thin air.

You were at a loss for words. It felt like a do-over more than anything else, but you tried not to get ahead of yourself and mess anything else in the universe up, in an attempt not to cause another butterfly effect..

“This is all finally gonna be over,” Steve said, pulling his hand away from yours, so he could wrap his arm around you tightly. “All of this pain and suffering, all of the stress from those Goddamn stones.”

You nodded wordlessly, in a bit of shock from seeing the man that appeared to be your Steve, and feeling his comforting touch after what had felt like a lifetime without it.

“Maybe we can finally start over. Move into the suburbs, have a few kids, the whole white picket fence,” he sighed softly, imagining an ideal future with you beside him.

You nodded, barely being able to think with the overstimulation of being in Steve’s presence. All you could do was inhale deeply into Steve’s chest, and ignore the soft vibration on your wrist, alerting you of your departure. “I love you Steve,” was all you could muster as you mumbled into his chest.

“Let’s go home.”

next chapter

[haziebat]

Moving Mountains | Ch. 1 | Skyrim x Fem!Reader

[Interactive | Readers Vote]

Word count: 2,700

Content Warning: Depictions of violence

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

You find yourself in the courtyard of a palace made of smooth gray stone. Its spires graze the twinkling stars emerging in the green-tinted sky. To either side of you are aged trees. Their gnarled, leafless branches reach toward the twilit heavens. Their roots dig into lush grass that creeps into the stonework of the walkway.

You can't place the scene, but it's stained with an uneasy familiarity. Your feet recognize the stairs beneath them as you begin your climb to the palace doors. They are a stately pair - tall, with ornate filigree designs, standing in proud opposition to each other.

You reach out and take hold of a sturdy handle. It's cold to the touch - a sensation so vivid it could burn your palm.

With an uneven breath, you pull. 

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

White light sears your bleary eyes.

Groaning, you pinch them shut. The glow taunts you through your eyelids. It flickers in spots, giving you the image of sunspots shining through a verdant canopy. Leaves dance in a cool breeze. Goosebumps prickle your bare skin.

Your head aches as you're jostled. A throbbing pain resonates through your muscles. Wheels click on a cobblestone road. You're certain you're on a carriage, and almost as certain that one ran you over.

This isn't right.

You force your eyes open.

They're flooded with harsh morning sun. 

Blinking away the discomfort, you begin to take in your surroundings.

You are on a cart, just as you suspected, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Behind them are towering evergreens. Birds sing among the needles. A light frost clings to the branches. Stray snowflakes meander through the air. On the road before you are more carriages with strangers clad in identical armor sitting in the backs. Carts slip off around the bend toward a destination unknown.

Unknown.

There are a lot of unknowns right now.

How you got here, for example.

You go to search the dustiest corners of your memory just to find that there are no corners to search. No dust has settled because there's nothing for it to cling to. Every stretch of your mind comes up blank. Where you were before and where you're headed... Nothing.

All that's left are the clouded memories of a dream.

Your stomach twists into a knot.

You need to focus on the things you know - on certainties.

First order of business: do you know your name?

(Y,,,,N)?

(Y/N)?

Sure.

Sounds good enough.

You're more confident about that than anything else right now.

Your name is (Y/N) and you're somewhere you don't know, on a carriage headed somewhere you don't know, surrounded by people you also don't know. The strangers share a grim expression that only makes your sinking feeling grow deeper.

You move to rub your temples and massage away the headache and racing thoughts.

Your hand is caught.

Your heart goes still.

You look down to find your wrists bound with an intricately wrapped leather strip. It digs into your flesh with each tug against it.

No.

No, no, no.

This isn't happening.

Panic threatens to seize you. It festers in your gut. Your breathing is uneven.

You look to the man across from you. He looks to be in his late twenties, with wavy blond locks falling to a square, bearded jaw. His eyes are round and prominent, a striking blue and steadfast. He's clad in armor made of supple brown leather with a muted blue sash displaying the emblem of a bear, same as most of the others.

"Where are we?" You croak out. Your throat is dry, but your voice is familiar. It's a small shred of comfort.

"You're in Skyrim, lass." He replies. He bears an accent that marks him as a Nord - a term you recognize.

"Skyrim." You repeat. Another word you know.

You're relieved you still seem to hold some functional knowledge of the world. You're in Skyrim, the snowy, northernmost province of Tamriel. It's a land of harsh frost and cruel beasts, with hardy people and hearty mead. These are all facts - little things that make such a surreal moment feel more concrete. And yet none of these details paint you a portrait of yourself. Frustration seeps in alongside anxiety.

"You were wandering near the border." The stranger explains. "Lost, confused, naked... Seems like you have a few more of your faculties back now, eh?"

You glance down at yourself. Whoever captured you had the decency to dress you, if that's what you want to call it. You're clad in rough burlap rags with dirt clinging to the fraying fibers.

"Well, I'm clothed. That's something." You reply.

"Good. Still got your sense of humor. You're going to need that." The man says.

His words unsettle you.

"How'd I wind up a captive?" You ask, tugging again at your binds. You're aware of the futility but there's little else for you to do.

"You got tangled up in the fight when the Imperials ambushed us. Couldn't get out a damn sentence but you took down two men. Can't say I've ever seen anything like it." The Nord's voice holds a hint of humor. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Same as that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks." The thief spits. Your attention is drawn to him. He has a lean frame and gaunt face with grime coating his skin. Greasy brown hair frames wild eyes better suited for a caged animal. "Everything was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

"Stormcloaks?" You inquire. It's the one word that escapes your recognition

"You really are in a state, aren't you?" The blond man replies with a crinkle of his brow. "I was sure everyone had gotten wind of our rebellion."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be the best gauge of that one." You say with a trace of a smirk.

"Shut up back there!" The driver barks.

A tense silence settles over the cart.

It's broken by the thief, who asks in a hushed tone, "What's wrong with him, huh?"

You follow his eyes to the man in question. They're locked on the Nord to your right. He's an imposing man with a mane of wild, deep blond hair pulled back from his face. It's adorned with braids, fastened with carved beads and leather knots. He has steely eyes beneath a stern brow. His nose is prominent and slightly crooked, giving the impression he's had it broken a time or two before. He wears fine robes adorned with chainmail - attire that indicates both his wealth and his status as a warrior. A gag is tied around his mouth.

"Watch your tongue." The Nord in front of you commands. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The Thief nearly chokes on the words. "You're the leader of the rebellion... If they've captured you... Oh, Gods... Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

Sovngarde, a Nord's afterlife,

If what he says is true - if you're headed to your death - where is your soul headed? Will you be granted an afterlife, or be met with an abrupt nothingness? Or will your lost and confused spirit be bound to mundus, cursed to wander for an eternity?

Plenty of options, and very few appealing ones.

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The thief's voice wavers. His eyes dart about the carriage, cycling restlessly from face to face. He seems to be looking for an out you could assure him doesn't exist. His desperation is palpable.

Your heart is fluttering. Your palms begin to sweat. You don't know what life you led until this point but you can't begin to piece together how it led you here. Is this what you deserve?

It's impossible to say where you've been, or where you're headed. You can't even tell how long you've been in Tamriel. Your exact age is as murky as everything else. You can ascertain "adult" but how much of an adult is unclear. You feel as if you've been around for a while though the more you settle into your skin you feel that your body is still comparatively young.

You bring your eyes up along your bare arms and take in the pale scars dotting them.

Your skin tells stories with ghosts of burns, cuts and gashes. Though the details are lost you can make out the meat of them: no matter how long your body has been around, it has been through a lot. You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble, or a history of dangerous work.

The Nord in front of you speaks up, pulling you from your thoughts. 

"Hey... What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" The thief snaps.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

The thief hesitates. His face contorts before softening, with thin lips curled into a frown. "Rorikstead... I'm... I'm from Rorikstead..."

"What about you?" The blond man asks.

You pause to think on the question.

Yet you keep coming up blank.

You were found wandering at the border? Which one? Southern makes the most sense - this area doesn't share the lush, mountainous terrain of High Rock. It closer resembles the Jerall mountains, with steep hills and muted greens. You could be from Cyrodiil, but something in your bones insists this answer is unsatisfactory.

Sitting on the question too long you stammer out, "I uh... I have no fucking clue."

He laughs - a genuine chuckle with a glimmering smile. "Good an answer as any. I suppose it won't make much of a difference soon."

The carriage rounds a corner and a small village comes into view. It's surrounded by a sturdy stone wall with a broad wooden gate shielding the houses from the road. A figure on the covered walkway above calls out to the man leading the caravan, "General Tullius, Sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good." A gruff voice barks. "Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh... Divines, please help me!" The thief pleads with closed eyes, head slumped and shoulders shuddering.

Entering the gates, you pass the man who led the string of carriages. He seems to be in his fifties, with cropped gray hair, though his toned arms tell you he's still in good shape. His face is austere with near-black eyes boring holes into the Altmer across from him. The golden skinned elves wear dark robes and gold armor.

"Look at him," the Blond man growls, "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves."

"Thalmor." You barely recognize the word on your tongue. You're unsure what it means. The most closely related term you can conjure is "laughing stock".

"What's their deal?" You ask.

His brow furrows. "I don't know what happened to you but whatever it was, it really did a number on you, eh lass? The Thalmor are with the Aldmeri Dominion, here to 'unify Tamriel'. Serves better to rip her apart."

Okay that sounds like... New information.

You close your eyes and take a deep, steady breath.

This, you have decided, is all bullshit.

You struggle to keep your attention outwards, away from these prying thoughts.

"This is Helgen," The Nord continues. His expression grows heavier with each turn of the wheels. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here... Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."

Juniper berries. Piney, with a hint of a peppery bite. 

This trivia is useless.

Above you looms a tower. A flag at its top proudly flies the symbol of the Empire - that dragon that rings so familiar. You know it well, but you do not feel loyalty. It is simply an icon of a frail nation.

"Funny... When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The Nord sighs.

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" A young boy chirps above the murmur of the townsfolk. The people have gathered in the streets and on their porches to watch.

"You need to go inside the house, little cub." His father replies.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, Papa."

You wonder for a moment - who were your parents? Are they worth remembering? You wait for a melancholy pang and are met with apathy. This, somehow, feels worse. You try and focus on the present - it's the most you have right now.

The carriage draws to a halt in the town square, in the shadows of the ominous stone towers. In the clearing the headsman stands by his block. His axe gleams in the sunlight, drawing your eye back no matter how you try and avoid it. Beside him is a priestess wearing golden robes and a solemn face. She's likely a follower of Arkay, here to give you a proper sendoff to the grave.

You're not sure how much stock you put in the Divines.

At the moment, you'd say not much.

"Why are we stopping?" Beads of sweat begin to trickle down the thief's forehead, leaving trails of fair skin behind. It reveals his flushed cheeks and betrays his terror even further.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blond man gets to his feet. He's tall with broad shoulders - the quintessential Nord. Looking past him at the others, you'd say he's right at home in this crowd. It seems to be a requirement for a position as a Stormcloak. How the Imperials threw you in among them is beyond you. You're pretty sure you put even less stock in the Legion than the Gods.

You get to your feet on rickety legs and follow the men off the cart. On the ground, you can hardly see past the group.

In the gaps between heads and shoulders you see what looks to be an Imperial Captain in heavy steel armor standing beside a leather clad soldier with auburn hair and an uncertain look. In his hand is a thick tome.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time." The Captain's voice holds no remorse. If you aren't mistaken, it seems to be dripping pride. Your lip curls at the sound.

"Empire loves their damn lists." The blond man says in a hushed tone.

The Imperial soldier begins to read from the pages in front of him. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric remains silent as he joins the crowd congregating by the headsman's block. He walks with his head held high. He must know he'll die a martyr. If he's a true leader, his fight should last long after him, whether or not it's in the right.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The soldier reads.

The blond man gives you a nod and heads towards his fate. A strange loneliness sets in. For the first time since waking you don't have a companion - or at the very least a voice other than yours to drown out your thoughts. To talk over the terror creeping up your spine.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief's eyes are that of a cornered beast. Frenzied, he looks to the block, then back to the Captain. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Before she can reply, he runs. His legs carry him toward the gate at an uneven pace. They look as if they'll give out beneath him. "You're not gonna kill me!"

"Halt!" The Captain's shout echoes off the buildings surrounding you. Her demand falls on deaf ears. "Archers!"

There is the pluck of bowstrings in near-unison. Lokir cries out as arrows bury themselves in his back. He collapses to the ground, blood running down his side and staining his burlap rags. He wails one final time as his arms give out beneath him.

He falls limp on the cobblestone.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Captain asks.

She's met with silence.

The auburn haired soldier's eyes wander to the book, then back to you. "Who are you?"

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

Q U E S T I O N S

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

1.) What race are you?

✶ Argonian

✶ Breton

✶ Dark Elf

✶ High Elf

✶ Imperial

✶ Khajiit

✶ Nord

✶ Orc

✶ Redguard

✶ Wood Elf

2.) Any last words when you're at the headsman's block?

✶ "I'm not a rebel!"

✶ "Your grip on that axe is sloppy. You sure you've done this before?"

✶ "Fuck you."

✶ Nothing. I'm going out with whatever dignity I have.

✶ Nothing. But I spit on the executioner.

POLL CLOSES: 01/31/2021

[goldenworldsabound]

Last Night Under The Stars

After Golden and Kabu finally find a Sizzlipede den and Golden catches it, they spend one more night out in the wild area together. They get to sharing stories about the things they’ve experienced. Content warning: none, word count: 1902

With a new Sizzlipede pal in hand (or, in Poke'ball as the case may be), Golden and Kabu were bringing their wild area expedition to an end. They would spend one final night together in the wild area before making the trek back to Motostoke tomorrow.

With dinner out of the way and the sky mostly dark, Golden found herself sitting on a log next to Kabu, a campfire glowing in front of them. Despite the exhaustion of the day, she felt like she wanted to make the most of the remaining time with Kabu. But how? She turned to look at him, thinking. As if feeling her gaze, he looked back at her, smiling a little.

"I've never been to Johto." Kabu said after a moment, as Golden scrambled and failed to find a topic. "Is that where you're from?"

Golden nodded. "Yeah. Ecruteak, specifically. That's where I grew up." She leaned back, smiling up at the sky.

"Ecruteak is a sort of...cultural epicenter with regards to legendary Poke'mon, is it not?" Kabu asked, gazing at her intently.

"You could say that. It's steeped in tradition and legend. The Burned Tower and the Bell Tower, tied to the three legendary dogs, as well as Ho-oh and Lugia." Golden rattled those off without effort. "People come from all over to try and gain the attention of the legendary beasts, and Morty, the gym leader, has a long standing desire to meet Ho-oh."

The way Golden said that last line, Kabu felt she was leaving something out.

"Have you?" He asked bluntly.

"Have I? You mean, met- heh." Golden grinned, looking away again. "When you ask me that directly it's hard not to be honest with you." She closed her eyes before meeting his gaze again. "I have. I've met them all."

"..." Kabu was shocked. He had expected from her reaction that she had met one of the legendary Poke'mon she'd mentioned. But all of them? That was... "You must be a very special person." He finally said after a moment of silence.

"Hm." Golden was still smiling. "That's what the legends would say. Don't let that spread around too much though." Her smile turned apologetic.

"Of course. Would it be...rude of me to press you for more information?" Kabu asked, quirking his brow with a wry smile.

"Ha. I'll allow it this time." Golden looked thoughtful. "Well, how about this. You have any run-ins with a legendary Poke'mon?"

"I was still in Hoenn for the incident with Groudon and Kyogre." Kabu admitted, internally wincing at how he'd aged himself with that statement. "I remember it well."

"Oh, wow." Golden blinked at him. "I was...I was young, for that. I hardly remember much, other than hearing about it on the news. Alright then," She grinned. "I'll tell you about one of my encounters, and you tell me about one of yours. Which one, then?" Her grin turned sly as she turned the question onto him.

Kabu looked thoughtful. "Suicune." He requested after deliberation.

"Good choice." Golden steepled her fingers for a moment as she thought. "I first saw Suicune in the Burned Tower as a child. I wasn't supposed to be in there." She chuckled. "But I wasn't a very obedient child. The real reason I went in was...I thought I heard...crying? Whimpering?" She shook her head. "I was trying to find a safe way down to the bottom floor, when I fell." She still remembered that terror. Her Mareep and her Eevee had both called out to her in a panic, but they'd been powerless. "That was when Suicune appeared. Suicune caught me on it's back."

Then came the moment she would never forget. She'd slid off it's back, and held out a hand. Suicune had headbutted her hand affectionately. Then, it motioned towards a ladder, gesturing for her to go. She climbed up, Suicune watching from below to make sure she made it up safely. With the encouragement of her own Poke'mon, and Suicune matching her from below, she carefully made her way back to the entrance. Once she was safely in the entrance, Suicune had gracefully jumped up to join her. A rumble came from it's throat. And then, as silently as it had appeared, it had run out of the tower, going out of sight at an incredible speed.

No one else had seen Suicune that day, Golden learned.

"Ah, that was also when I met Haunter." Golden added. "Well, Gastly at the time." She smiled, glancing over at her shadow, which seemed to vibrate in response. "He followed me out, though I didn't realize for quite some time."

"That is an incredible story." Kabu replied, voice genuine.

"It is. I could have died that day, if not for Suicune." Golden wasn't done yet, though. "Once I grew up and took on the gym challenge, I saw Suicune intermittently on my journey. I felt that it was trying to tell me something. And in the end, I met it again in the Burned Tower."

Golden went quiet. That was too personal to share, the reunion between the two of them. The way that they had battled. The way that Suicune had given her a chance to capture it, but she had refused. I will see you again. She had said. This masterball doesn't need to contain you for you to be my friend. And then Suicune had left. She hadn't seen it since. But she knew in her heart she would, one day.

She didn't realize she'd put her hands over her heart, gazing into the fire distantly as she recalled her memories. Kabu's hand on her shoulder stirred her back to the current.

"Thank you for sharing that with me." Kabu bowed his head. "I was already impressed with you from how I've seen you battle, but if you impressed Suicune, you must be even stronger than I know."

"Heh. One of these days we'll have to fight with both of our full teams. You ain't seen nothing yet." She joked, winking. She yawned, blushing a little. Ugh, it was late, wasn't it? But she felt anything but ready to sleep.

She tensed briefly as she felt Kabu slip his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to lean against him a little. Her face warmed as she heard him laugh, his body shaking a bit against hers.

"I'll take you up on that sometime." He smiled down at her. "I've wanted to visit Johto myself." Golden felt momentarily lost in his gaze. "Did you want to go to sleep?"

"N-no!" Golden objected vehemently, flushing deeper. "I mean, I'm a little tired, but I'd like to hear your story. That's only fair, right?"

Kabu laughed softly. "Of course. You can rest your head on my shoulder, if you'd like, while you listen."

Swallowing, Golden nodded, before shifting to let her head rest on his shoulder as he'd suggested. It was comfortable to be touching him like this. She was glad the firelight was low, hopefully hiding her blush a bit.

"Thanks...a-anyway, go ahead with your story."

Kabu hummed thoughtfully. "I grew up in Lavaridge town. I was still there when Team Magma and Team Aqua had their dispute that rocked the entire region." His tone was wry as he spoke. Team Magma and Team Aqua had goals that were hard to comprehend. And yet, they had had the power to almost decimate an entire region. Kabu breathed in deeply, Golden feeling his chest expand with the motion. He exhaled.

"When Team Magma tried to raise Groudon from Mt Chimney...it was terrifying." Kabu frowned. "It had long been rumored that Groudon lay dormant inside the volcano, but...no one had ever tried to awaken it. The ground shook, and we thought the volcano might erupt."

"I went up to the top of it, to see if I could put a stop to Team Magma. But two young trainers were already handling it. By the time I got there and figured out what was going on, they'd fought down Team Magma and stopped the volcano from erupting." Kabu was quiet for a moment, recalling the vivid memories.

After a moments hesitation, Golden wrapped her arms around his torso, closing her eyes as she hugged him. Whereas her story had been a tale of personal growth, Kabu's was one of fear and terror. Blinking, he looked down at her, smiling gently before diving back into his tale. She felt him squeeze her arm reassuringly.

"And then, of course, when that storm began from Kyogre and Groudon fighting...many of us went to the top of Mt Chimney. The storm clouds over the ocean were visible even from the mountain." He shivered involuntarily. "The blows they were exchanging were visible as flashes. It was a great power. It was even raining up on the volcano." The sound of droplets hitting the lava, hissing as they evaporated instantly, had been almost deafening at that time. "And then- Rayquaza descended from the clouds." He gazed into the crackling fire. "I was awed. I couldn't tell what it was that Rayquaza did. But the clouds and the rain began to fade away, and the legendary Poke'mon disappeared out of sight before long." He laughed a little. "I don't think I'll ever forget that image. The long, green dragon descending from a beam of light. It was almost too heavy handed." The last line was a joke, accompanied by a wry smile.

"Legendary Poke'mon are kind of just like that." Golden added with a grin, pulling her arms back to her chest, even though she remained resting against Kabu. "That's an incredible experience too."

"Hm. Yes. We were very lucky to have the trainers who put a stop to it by involving Rayquaza. But it was a reminder of just how powerless I was." Kabu admitted, biting his lower lip ever so slightly. "That was what really kick started me to pursue my dream of becoming a gym leader."

"I can imagine." Golden replied softly, afraid to disturb the vulnerability he was showing. She gazed up at him tenderly, blushing as he looked back down at her. Throughout his story he'd been watching the campfire flames. Now his intense gaze was turned to her, and she felt unable to look away.

"Nonetheless. It's not as impressive as meeting a legendary firsthand." He teased, squeezing her arm again. "Very few people can lay claim to that sort of experience. Let alone multiple legendaries."

Golden looked away awkwardly, clearing her throat. "Yes, well...that doesn't mean I'm better than anyone else, or anything like that. And who knows," She couldn't help but smile. "Maybe if you visit me in Johto, you'll get to meet them too."

"That would be wonderful - legendaries or not." Kabu replied with a grin. Golden yawned again. Kabu laughed a little. "I think you really ought to get to sleep. We have a long day back to Motostoke tomorrow."

"Mm, yes, I suppose so..." Golden admitted reluctantly. "I'll get up in just a minute..." Her cheeks burned with her thinly veiled attempts to remain like this a little longer. But Kabu seemed happy to humor her, or perhaps he was enjoying the moment just as much - she couldn't keep her eyes open, much less judge his response. They sat in comfortable silence for longer than they should have.

[mood-swings-for-days]

Thunderstorm Ι Ch. 4 Ι JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Werewolf!au

Word count: 7, 535

Warnings: Characters in a less than healthy state of mind, violence, slight body horror, an addicted to cigarettes Jungkook (don’t do drugs, kids!)

Summary: An accidental encounter triggers a series of events that shatter your monotonous life. A new relationship starts to develop, following the stages of a thunderstorm.

Note: Written under the influence of beautiful music

1   2   3   4

Chapter 4: Downpour

      Dull light seeped into your room through the sheer curtains hanging on the window. Raindrops drummed against the glass in tune with the quiet music flowing from the radio. Gray clouds diffused the sunlight, painting the world in desaturated hues of its former colors. The forest just beyond your back yard oozed with thick white fog. You lay in bed awake for what seemed like hours, watching the night fade away.

      You heard a door creak, followed by quick footsteps against the hardwood floor of the hallway. A beat of silence and then the muffled sound of dishes rattling reached you. You listened to your roommate prepare herself a bowl of cereal and sit down to eat with the quiet voice of the weatherwoman to keep her company.

      “… ranging from 5° to 10°C during the day, however temperatures will drop below 0° in the evening and we might even be getting some snow for the first time this season.”

      You rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock on your night stand. Your head sank back down into the pillow. Porcelain clacked against stainless steel in the sink and water started flowing from the faucet. Once she was done, your roommate padded back down the hallway and went into her room.

      With a sigh you pushed the covers off of your body. Cold air immediately crawled over you, rising goosebumps in its wake. The hand that previously rested on your stomach started gliding up the length of your body, across the valley of your chest and came to a stop at the junction of your neck. Underneath your palm your jugular throbbed vigorously with the memory of your intimate dream in mind. The skin of your throat, although clear, tingled with the ghosts of a dozen love bites, left behind by the lips you very soul yearned to capture. You closed your eyes, reliving for the umpteenth time the way your fingers would run through his thick hair, blunt nails grazing his scalp ever so gently as lithe sighs tumbled from his mouth. His hands held onto your waist tightly, pressing you against a hard body that felt oh so hot to the touch. His satin skin felt heavenly gliding against your own.

      “Jungkook…” you whispered when his sharp canines grazed against a raw patch on the side of your neck. He only hummed in response and squeezed you harder. His tongue running the length of your collarbone was the only warning you got before he sank his teeth into the fleshy swell of your breast. Your hands tightening in his hair and the tiny whimper that reached his ears stopped him before he got too carried away. Your whole body was tingling. The pain from the shallow bite made the adrenaline spike in your system.

      You sighed again, covering your hot face with your hands. You almost felt embarrassed about how much you enjoyed that dream. It was so vivid you could still feel him if you concentrated. Turning your imagination off for now, you rolled out of bed.

      You listened to the monotone beeps of the barcode scanner as you tried not to focus on your wet socks. Your old sneakers had lost the battle with the weather once again, causing your feet to become soaked in the cold, invasive rainwater. The person in front of you had rolled up to the register with a heaping cart full of absolute garbage. As you scanned bottle after bottle of cheap alcohol and copious amounts of snacks you couldn’t help but think that this kid was preparing to throw the biggest party his teenage-self had ever attended. He’d walked up to you with a wide grin and a hand already offering his ID to prove that he’d just recently become a legal adult. Coming around to the last few items, you peeked up only to see him excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring intently at the goods you were tucking into the big paper bags to your right. His bill came up pretty steep, but he was more than happy to throw two hundred dollar bills on the counter, telling you to keep the change. You watched him wrestle the bags into his arms clumsily and run out the door after waving you goodbye. You dropped the $9,50 inside your tip jar as you started to wonder when was the last time you got that excited about something. You glanced at the clock on the wall and figured you still had a while before your shift ended. With a sigh you propped your hip against the register and reached into your back pocket for your phone. Yara’s number was the first one to show up in your history and after a few short rings she picked up.

      “Sup?”

      “Hey, I’m working. Can you talk for a bit?”

      “Uh-huh,” her voice sounded kind of muffled “gimme a sec, I got some brushes in my mouth.”

      “Yeah?” You giggled

      A rattle sounded on the other end “I’m doing my makeup. What’s up?”

      “Do you want to hang out later?” you cringed right after the words left your mouth “I don’t have much to do after my shift ends.”

      “Sorry hun, I already have plans with that one guy. I mean you’re welcome to tag along, but you might not enjoy it as much as I will.”

      You immediately knew what she was talking about. The guy in question was someone from one of Yara’s classes and she’d had an eye on him for a while. It was nice of her to invite you, but the thought of her not-so-subtle flirting in public made you want to hide.

      “Yeah, I’ll pass. You two have fun.”

      “Thanks!” you were just about to bid her goodbye when she chimed in “Why don’t you call Jungkook?”

      Your heart skipped a little. Why? Because you were afraid that he won’t pick up, again. You didn’t feel like going through the mortification of having to leave a stupid voice mail only for him to never call you back. Yara took your silence as hesitation and continued.

      “Y/n how long are you going to pretend that you don’t like the guy?”

      “I’m not. I do like him;” Your voice was small “I just want some feedback from him.”

      “I’m happy you admit it at least.” Yara’s tone softened “You know there’s nothing wrong in asking him, right?”

      “Yeah, but I’m afraid of rejection.”

      “That’s fair. Still, you’ll never know for sure unless you ask him.”

      You nodded your head, vaguely registering that Yara couldn’t really see you. The conversation had reached a point at which you didn’t want to respond and Yara knew it.

      “Okay, bye. I’ll see you at university.”

        “Bye, hun. Do you want me to call you tonight?”

      “No, it’s fine. Call me if something happens.”

      “Of course.” Yara knew to reach out to you in case of an emergency “I’ll see you later.”

      And with a click the line went silent. Outside thunder rumbled in the distance and the sound of raindrops against the windows of your shop softened.

      Just a couple of customers came in after that. The first one wandered around the aisles for a while, leaving wet footprints everywhere, and left once the rain started to subside. The second one entered shortly after the first, bought a chocolate bar and left without sparing you a single glance. You waited around for several more minutes before fetching the mop. In the midst of scrubbing the white tiles with admirable vigor your hand slipped on the handle and you fell face-first into the rack in front of you. Multiple packs of cigarettes, lighters and other accessories tumbled to the ground. Cursing under your breath, you watched the shelf wobble dangerously, but thankfully manage not to fall. The commotion caused the items that didn’t fall out to topple over instead. With a huff you shoved the mop back into the bucket and pushed it aside. You were going to be stuck rearranging merchandise for hours.

      Perched on a step ladder, you reached into the very back of the top shelf to try and get the last few boxes of cigarette filters. You’d managed to put almost everything back by the time your shift was over. Glancing over at the clock you figured that as per usual Yoongi would be arriving late. You hugged the stacked boxes to your chest and proceeded to place them back on the shelf in neat rows.

        The little bell above the door jingled.

        “Hello.” You greeted blindly

      By the sound of slow footsteps, headed for you, you assumed it was your coworker finally showing up. Placing the last item in its place you were just about to speak again as the footsteps came to a stop. The words died in your throat when you felt a pair of hands smooth up your thighs and curl around your hips. You flinched at the contact, turning to look at the person behind you. Turning around, you were surprised to see Jimin smiling up at you. Without a word he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of the step ladder.

      “Hey.” He mumbled, not letting go of your body. In fact, he tried to pull you closer, which you countered by pushing your hands against his chest.

      “Jimin, what are you doing here?”

      “Oh, I was in the mood for something sweet and just happened to stumble upon you.”

      Oh, he was in a mood all right, you could tell just by the look in his eyes. His naturally dominant nature was practically radiating off of him, nailing you in place. It was going to be difficult to get out of this situation, you could feel it.

      His fingers played with the hem of your shirt as his gaze dropped to the sliver of smooth skin, peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of your shirt. All of a sudden you felt terribly exposed in your normally conservative work uniform.

      You cleared your throat and made a move to create some distance between the two of you. With a final squeeze, his hands parted with your body.

      “So, how have you been?” You tried to ease the tension with small talk as you speedily walked up to the register. Jimin languidly followed suit. You could hear his footsteps approaching behind you while you pretended to scrub the glass counter with a small rag you managed to find inside your pocket. Unbeknownst to you, your back was left completely exposed and Jimin wasn’t about to pass up on that opportunity. A chill ran the length of your spine when you felt his arms close in on either side of you, hands coming to rest on the surface in front of you.

      “I’ve been good.” He whispered and you hated the way your body trembled at the feeling of his breath against the shell of your ear. “And you?”

      “M-me too.”

      All of your self-control betrayed you in the face of his close proximity. Your hands started shaking when you felt the faintest brush of his hips against your ass. All of your senses were overcome by his scent and the warmth, radiating off of him. You almost felt gross about the way your body immediately reacted to his advances, without giving you the chance to think about it. He dipped his head into the curve of your neck, hot breath gliding over your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing with difficulty and trying your best to stay still to minimize contact. Jimin breathed a soft chuckle and your heart flipped. A dark, deep seated desire to give into him started to slither its way out of the cracks of your consciousness. You felt entranced, as if someone had taken over your mind for a long moment before the rational part of you jumped in. Giving into Jimin was the worst possible thing to do right now. You parted your lips, swallowing a big lungful of air to try and clear your head. Just as you were about to speak, the bell on the door jingled, piercing the atmosphere around you.

      You jumped as his arms quickly dropped from your sides. You turned just in time to see Yoongi walking in with his sights already set on Jimin.

      “What are you doing here?” your coworker jumped straight to the point

      Jimin grinned innocently “Nothing illegal, hyung.”

        Yoongi was staring Jimin down with a stern look on his face and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you didn’t know.

        “I’m, uh, I’ll go change.” You mumbled awkwardly and started to back away. Neither of them payed you any mind, frozen in a silent face-off.

      The staff room door clicked behind you as you leaned against it. You waited there for a few seconds, trying to hear if they started talking now that you were out of the picture. You quickly gave up, figuring that at best Yoongi would tell Jimin off and make him leave. You were half way through pulling your jeans over your ass when you heard your coworker throw in a few expletives, but when you paused to listen in, the conversation became indistinguishable once again. With a huff you shoved your uniform inside your bag.

      “Shall we head out?” Jimin offered once he saw you walk out of the door and you just nodded begrudgingly.

      “Yeah, Jimin you can go ahead, I need to have a word with y/n for a sec.”

      You were surprised that your coworker butted in and came to a stop once you reached the register. Jimin just shrugged and walked out without any objections. Yoongi waited until he was out of sight before he turned to you.

      “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into, but don’t mess around with Park Jimin.”

      Straight to the point, huh? You could feel your face heating up with the embracement of being caught red handed. Of course Yoongi had seen the little stunt Jimin pulled earlier. Hell, a lot of people probably saw, considering you were in plain sight of the huge windows. You could maybe play it off and blame Jimin for the whole situation, but the truth is you made no move to push him away. Knowing that it was partially your fault stung worse than the embarrassment of being caught. Yoongi’s sharp eyes held no sympathy for your unfavorable position.

      “I assure you, he’s not what you think he is.” He continued “Stay away from him.”

      You looked at him confusedly. For some reason the ambiguity with which he spoke made your hair stand on end.

      “Now, go out there and tell him to fuck off.”

      “But why didn’t you-” You tried to protest, but he cut you off sharply.

      “Because it’s not my place to intervene. He needs to hear it from you.”

      You stared back at him with a sour expression even though you knew he was right. He wasn’t going to budge and you needed to sort your own problems like an adult.

      “Come on now, get lost.”

      You sighed and headed out without saying goodbye. You could feel his eyes on you until you exited the store and rounded the corner. Once you were out of sight, you spotted Jimin leaning against the exposed brick wall of the neighboring building. He had his hands in his pocket as he stared off into the night sky. The last slivers of sunlight were becoming extinguished by dark and heavy rainclouds. The lamps lining the street started to flicker on. You eyed Jimin for a second before shoving your fists into your jacket pockets and walking up to him.

      “I love it when it rains.” He stated simply once you were within earshot. You watched his profile as he inhaled deeply. “Are you driving tonight?”

      “Yeah.” You lied

      He turned to look at you. The streetlight reflected off of his skin, making his features look sharp. You squeezed your fists tighter. The look in his eye was taunting, like he saw right through you.

      “Let me walk you to your car then.”

      It wasn’t a suggestion. Out of nervous habit, you bit down on your bottom lip.

      “No, thank you.”

      “Why not?” He retorted, taking a step toward you “It’s dark, something might snatch you up.”

      “I’ll be fine. It’s just around the corner.”

      Jimin’s gaze dragged slowly down your rigid frame. He smirked when his eyes landed on yours once again. This whole situation was all too entertaining to him. With a few long strides he closed the distance between you. Before you could step back, his hands came to rest just above your elbows. He cocked his head to the side and pouted when he saw you frown.

      “Y/n…” he mumbled in a raspy tone “We’re both adults, right?”

      You stared up at him wordlessly, breath hitching in your throat when you saw him lick his lips.

      “I really like you.”

      “Damn, you sound desperate.”

      You jumped away from Jimin immediately. You turned just in time to see Jungkook rounding the corner with a cigarette and a knowing smirk hanging on his lips. He walked up to Jimin and got right in his face, tucking you safely behind his back in the process.

      “Fuck off, Jimin.”

      As he spoke, he blew smoke in the elder’s face, making him flinch back and cough into his hand. Jimin glared at Jungkook, taking a few steps backward before turning on his heel and taking off down the street.

      You watched the whole thing go down with bated breath. You were expecting a much bigger commotion to ensue after Jungkook stepped in so aggressively, but Jimin surprised you when he simply ran off. You stared after him until his silhouette was no longer visible.

      Turning around to face you, Jungkook exhaled a deep sigh. The smoke from his by now almost burnt out cigarette swirled around you, making you sniffle. You watched intently as his expression softened once your eyes met. Without a word, his hand closed around your forearm and you fell into his chest. His arms squeezed around your shoulders and you couldn’t hold back from hugging him back. Jungkook rested his chin on the top of your head and breathed a sigh of relief. You blinked once, twice and it felt like an eternity before he finally spoke up.

      “Don’t do that. Please, stay away from him.” You felt his heart pound against your cheek as he spoke. His plea sounded soft and shaky. Not really knowing how to respond, you just squeezed his waist tighter. It felt so good to embrace him like that, you never wanted to let go. His warmth, his scent, his heartbeat, everything about him made you feel safe. Jungkook felt you nuzzle into him and it made him chuckle lightly. His hand smoothed over your hair soothingly before he pulled back to look at your face. You didn’t realize you were smiling until he grinned back at you and a soft blush bloomed along your cheekbones.

      “Let’s go, hmm?” he offered quietly

      “I’d like that.”

      His hand slipped down the length of your arm until your fingers intertwined. His skin was dry and cold, but the feeling of it made warmth blossom in your chest. Jungkook gently tugged you closer to his side as you strolled down the street. You happily watched the way your footsteps seemed to match his perfectly while he would occasionally steal sideways glances at your pretty face.

      “I kind of want to wander around for a bit. Is that okay with you or are you too cold?” Jungkook asked softly.

      You turned to properly look at him. His otherwise pale face was dusted pink at the tip of his nose and cupid bow. You didn’t know if it was the look in his rounded eyes, but you suddenly felt bold.

      “I’d like to spend some more time with you, too.”

      Jungkook immediately grinned at your confession, a light laugh rolling off of his reddened lips.

      “I’m relieved to hear that. Honestly, I’ve been missing you lately.”

      Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t allow it to choke out your next question “Where were you then?”

      You watched him carefully as the question seemed to catch him off guard. He smiled tightly and broke eye contact. A few deep breaths passed through his lungs before he was ready to speak.

      “I… You could say I’ve been dealing with myself.”

      He glanced back at you and you didn’t seem satisfied with his answer. You could tell that he was tiptoeing around the truth by the way he avoided prolonged eye contact. His hand unconsciously tightened around yours. You realized that it was making him uncomfortable, but the mystery that was Jeon Jungkook was plaguing you for far too long and you couldn’t let it go that easily. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to make up his mind. Your attention was suddenly diverted when you saw a pointed canine sink into the flesh of his lip. It wasn’t impractically long, just sharp enough to become noticeable. Although Jimin’s canines were more pronounced, Jungkook’s seemed eerily similar. You found yourself running your tongue along your upper row of teeth to see if it was more common than you thought, but yours were dull, flat almost. You stared at his mouth in poorly disguised bewilderment until you noticed him looking. His lips pressed tightly together as you slowly looked up to meet his eye.

      “What?” You blurted out dumbly and he just shook his head. The pace of his footsteps didn’t falter when he retrieved yet another cigarette from his back pocket. You watched the flame of his lighter cast a yellow light to his features for a brief second then flicker and die. He inhaled the fumes deep into his lungs. You were almost mesmerized by the way smoke poured from his lips and brushed past his cheekbones.

      “I needed to figure some shit out?” Jungkook’s next attempt at explaining came out sounding uncertain. He glanced back at you. “I had to decide how I feel.”

      The last line piqued your interest.

      “About what?”

      “About a lot of things.” He looked ahead as he took another drag from his cigarette “About…you, too.”

      His hand tightened around yours and you could almost feel it close around the heart hammering in your chest. You fell silent. You wanted to pry further and ask more questions, but the rapid pounding in your ears drowned out your words.

      Your legs were moving on their own as you tried to keep up with Jungkook who was sucking the life out of his cigarette faster than you thought a man was capable of. The store windows lining your peripheral soon faded as you crossed a couple of walkways and found yourself at the entrance of the town park. The place was nothing spectacular with long winding stone paths going across fields of withered grass and trees with nothing but bare branches to flaunt. You stared up at the intricate curves in the iron arc that was once part of the park gates. You followed Jungkook past it and down the main path obediently. Thin fog swirled around you while rotting wet leaved squelched underneath your old sneakers. You stared straight ahead as you tried to make up your mind. You wanted to continue this conversation so badly, you couldn’t let the opportunity slip, but you were suddenly tongue tied. By this point you were convinced that your feelings weren’t one sided and now was the chance to have Jungkook confirm it verbally, but you were afraid. Until now, you’ve only just come to terms with the feelings part, but you didn’t exactly know what that implied. Something told you that if Jungkook was willing to pursue a relationship, that would mean long term commitment, like really long term. You actually couldn’t picture yourself with anyone else beside you and you barely even knew the guy. Never in your twenty-something years on this Earth have you ever looked at a man and thought “I could grow old with him.”. Until you encountered Jungkook it seemed alien that a person you meet in your twenties could be the one you spend the rest of your life with. And the rest of your life was such a long time too, you didn’t think you could ever be prepared to make a decision like that. On the other hand, your chest clenched painfully at the thought of just letting him walk out of your life. Your hand squeezed his weakly.

      You watched the old lake come into view. As you approached its murky waters you had already made up your mind.

      You stopped abruptly when you reached the edge. Jungkook wasn’t expecting it and tugged on your arm once before also coming to a stop. Those tall old post lights lined the edge of the lake and you happened to be standing underneath one of them. You knew Jungkook was looking at you questioningly, but you needed a moment to compose yourself before facing him. You watched the wind ripple the surface of the water as you breathing steadied.

      “How…” you started quietly before turning to him “How do you feel about me?”

      Jungkook immediately recognized the look in your big glossy eyes and it made his heart skip a million times over. Electricity violently zapped the surface of his skin, spreading from the point where your fingers were still intertwined. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, making his breathing heavier. You looked pale, timid and vulnerable under the fluorescent lights. Jungkook felt like he was holding your fragile porcelain heart right in his bare hands as you had unknowingly given him permission to do with it whatever he saw fit. He swallowed once, twice, but not a single syllable rolled off his tongue, even though the answer to your question was quite simple to him. In his head he repeatedly chanted that he was taking way too long to respond. Oh, he would be one hell of an idiot if he chickened out now.

      The tiniest movement beside your face caught his attention briefly. A small white speck was floating down from the sky, crossing the lantern’s light only to melt on your shoulder. Another one followed shortly after, and another, until Jungkook realized it was snowing. Thousands of tiny snowflakes dusted over the both of you, some disappearing into the ground and others getting caught in the loose strands of your hair. Jungkook was positive that he had never seen a prettier sight than your worried face with a halo of melting snowflakes framing it.

      He yanked you into his frame by your hand. You flinched at the sudden disturbance, but your body moved toward him regardless. His hands rested gingerly at the top of your hips, smoothing over the wrinkled material of your jacket. He seemed hesitant, but the soft look in his eyes soothed your racing heart.

      “I have very strong feelings for you.” He finally muttered and it made him cringe at his wording “Shit, that sounded weird. What I want- … what I meant to say is that I like you very much.”

      You couldn’t stop the grin that overcame your features. He was too cute as he got flustered and stumbled over his words a little. Nevertheless, Jungkook’s expression mirrored yours.

      “Yeah, me too.” You whispered when he pressed his forehead to yours.

      “Can I kiss you? I want to do it properly this time.”

      Your whole body was warm with giddiness and it felt like your cheeks would crack with how wide your smile had gotten. You nodded lightly, afraid that words would ruin the atmosphere that had started to form. Jungkook looked at you for a moment longer before his eyelids dropped and he leaned in closer. His mouth brushed yours lightly at first, testing the waters before diving in deeper. His lips tasted of cigarette smoke, but nothing could describe the feeling of completion that filled your chest once they pressed against yours fully. Your fingers slipped up his shoulders and neck until you could bury them in the hair at the back of his head. He pulled you flush against his front, clasping his hands at your lower back. His lips moved slowly against yours, sighing every now and again when you tugged at his hair. Your whole body was tingling, waves upon waves of relief and happiness washed over your anxious heart as you could finally feel his hair underneath your fingertips, his skin against yours and his scent surrounding you. Cigarette smoke had never tasted so sweet, mixed in with something that was so distinctly Jeon Jungkook it made your soul flutter. He never tried to slip his tongue into your mouth, instead his kisses were chaste and gentle. It had been so long since you’d been kissed properly, but somehow your body seemed to naturally react to Jungkook’s touch. He held you close, his warmth seeping into your body and crawling up to your face, tinting your cheeks a shade of pink.

      His lips finally detached from yours, but he wasn’t ready to part with you before giving you a few more pecks. When he pulled away, your eyes finally cracked open, only to find him already smiling fondly down at you. By the time you separated, a significant amount of snow had piled up on top of his head and it made you giggle once you noticed. Jungkook quickly caught on to what you were laughing at and shook his messy hair abruptly, making the snow scatter around him and into your face. The cold snowflakes stinging your skin as they melted only made you laugh harder and Jungkook joined in with a soft chuckle of his own.

      “Man, you’re pretty when you laugh like that.” He mumbled more to himself, but you managed to catch it. You just stared into each other’s eyes with stupidly wide smiles, just feeling content and warm in the other’s embrace even as cold wind howled past your bodies.

      “Do you want to come watch a movie at my place? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” Jungkook asked suddenly and there was no hesitation in your mind when you agreed.

      Safely tucked under Jungkook’s arm and lost in sincere conversations, you walked the two miles over to his house, which you found out was only a few streets away from yours. Stepping over the threshold, you were immediately struck by the strong smell of timber and cigarette smoke. Jungkook slipped his boots off by the door and you followed suit. He helped you hang your damp coat up to dry and led you down the narrow hallway straight into his living room. His house was dark, walls painted in dull shades of beige and gray, hardwood floors a deep brown and old heavy wooden furniture filling out the space. The living room had a semi-modern disposition with only a countertop separating the kitchen from the main area. The place was also oddly cold, like it had been vacant for a while. Jungkook flicked a switch, flooding the room with pale yellow light that didn’t make it much easier to see what with how weak the lightbulb was. You stood awkwardly with your hands clasped together in your flimsy sweater and thin socks, enduring the cold and doing your best to disguise it. Jungkook seemed unbothered as he walked past you and into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

      “Well,” he started once he downed his glass “make yourself at home. I know it’s not much, but that’s what I have to offer.”

      You quickly shook your head because your own house was nothing spectacular either. You didn’t expect a university student like himself to be living in a mansion after all.

      “It’s fine, it’s just-” you hesitated when he looked up at you questioningly “I’m kinda cold?”

      Jungkook paused for a second, as if processing the information, you’d just presented him with and what it entailed. You just stared at him in silence, shifting from one foot to the other until it finally clicked for him.

      “Oh, I don’t have central heating.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly “But, I can get you something to wear?”

      You nodded gratefully and he disappeared down the dark hallway to presumably fetch you something warm from his bedroom. While you waited, you wondered what his room might look like. He didn’t look like the type of guy that owns a lot of stuff, judging by the minimal personal belongings scattered about his living room. He returned with a black hoodie, one you recognized he’d been wearing around campus a lot. You quickly pulled it over your chilled body once it was within your grasp. The garment was brushed on the inside, warm and cozy as it fell down to the middle of your thighs. You rolled the sleeves a couple of times to uncover your hands and Jungkook chuckled.

      “You look tiny in my clothes.” He said jokingly

      “Don’t flatter yourself. This thing is oversized even on you.” You shot right back, feeling playful. Jungkook let out a breathy laugh as his hand came to smooth over the top of your head.

      “What kind of movie are you feeling tonight?”

      “You’re the host, surprise me.” Your snarky replies seemed to break up the awkward atmosphere and ease the both of you.

      “Horror is far too cheesy for me to even suggest it…” he tapped his chin, pretending to ponder over his options “I guess we just have to watch Iron man.”

      You snorted unattractively at his suggestion

      “Iron man? Are you 10?”

      “Hey, it’s not my fault it’s the best movie ever!” He put his hands up in defense and grinned “Besides, have you even seen it?”

      “You got me there.”

      “Don’t knock it till you try it.” He seemed genuinely excited to watch it with you and it was contagious.

      “I’ll go ahead and download it on my laptop then.” He turned to go but then paused and turned back to you “I- uh, I have a roommate... Do you mind watching the movie in my room instead of the living room? I don’t want to disturb him when he comes home later.”

      You nodded with a smile. “Is it a problem if I hang around here for a little longer?” you asked, gesturing toward the kitchen

      “No, not at all. Do you need anything?”

      “I was wondering if I could fix myself a cup of tea?”

      “Sure, kettle’s on the stove.” With that he walked back into his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

      You wandered into the kitchen. The cold hardwood floor matched the rest of the house and you thought about how impractical it was if something were to spill on it. As promised, an old aluminum kettle was sitting on the gas stove. You lifted the lid and peered inside, only to find some stagnant water at the bottom of it. You made a face, but washed it out nonetheless. Now filled with fresh tap water, you placed the kettle back on the stove. You fiddled with the switch a little bit to try and adjust the flame, but it was either too strong or too weak, so you just settled with the stronger one and left it at that. You propped your butt on the counter and started looking around. The kitchen was fairly clean, but clearly old and worn out. The fridge to your right was starting to turn yellow and the cupboards above you, albeit nicely crafted wooden pieces, were probably extremely squeaky. You looked around the items, placed on the counter. Next to the knife block and underneath the rack of hanging utensils you found a wooden box with the word ‘TEA’ engraved on the lid. While you looked through the various flavors, you absentmindedly noted that Jungkook didn’t own a microwave. Plucking out a bag of mint tea, you turned to face the hallway to his bedroom. You’d poured enough water for two cups of tea in the kettle, but you didn’t know what kind he preferred, nor where he kept all his cups.

      “Jungkook?” you called out as you settled by the stove once again.

      You heard some muffled footsteps before he poked his head out from around the corner.

      “I don’t know where the cups are.”

      Jungkook walked into the kitchen fully and you noticed that he had changed into a black shirt and some sweatpants. He walked straight up to you and reached for the shelf right above your head. The smell of clean laundry hit you once his chest was in your face. Until now you never noticed how much the cigarette smoke covered up his natural scent. It was clean and sweet, girly almost, with the slightest hint of cologne, but it somehow suited him. Only after he’d placed the cup on the counter did he notice how close he had gotten to you. You blinked up at him as he seemed surprised for a second. Without a word, he swooped down and captured your lips. It was your turn to be surprised, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into him once his hands circled your waist. This time his kisses weren’t as gentle. He was bolder, pushing a little harder against you and even sliding his tongue along the seam of your lips. You timidly parted them for him and he immediately went to work. The taste of cigarette smoke was persistent on his tongue, but it did nothing to dampen the satisfaction you felt as it slipped into your mouth. Jungkook hoisted you onto the counter behind you and lodged himself between your parted thighs. He was getting really daring now, breathing harder and letting his hands wander down to the swell of your hips and ass to pull you flush against his torso. Adrenaline was spiking high in both of your systems and you started to feel excitement buzzing in the pit of your stomach. His lips separated from yours to move into the junction of your neck. He yanked the collar of his hoodie down to expose more of your skin as he heatedly kissed up your throat. You couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped past your lips at his ministrations on your sensitive flesh. His body reacted to the noise and you felt his hips push a little harder against yours. Your legs squeezed his waist as your hands tried to find purchase in his hair. You could feel the shiver running down his spine every time your nails scraped against his scalp. He was focusing on a spot that made you whimper quietly, sucking and licking the skin there to make you release more of the sounds he’d become so fond of.

      Before you could get too carried away however the kettle beside you started whistling loudly, startling the both of you. Jungkook quickly pulled away from you and reached over to turn off the stove. The sound persisted for a few more seconds before dulling down to a quiet wheeze. He rested his hands on top of your thighs that were still hanging loosely on either side of his waist. The two of you stayed silent for a while longer, just locking eyes until Jungkook started to crack up.

      “What?”

      “Sorry about that.” He managed in between breaths and you had no idea if he was apologizing about laughing, or the kettle, or what, but you just joined him in cackling. He helped you hop off the counter and held your hands until you both calmed down. While you were busy catching your breath, he picked up your abandoned tea bag and dropped it into the mug he’d retrieved for you earlier. He grabbed the kettle from the stove and carefully poured the boiling water into the cup.

      “How do you like it?”

      You didn’t know if it was the aftermath of your make out session or something else he had in mind, but you completely misunderstood his implication. Your face flushed. “Huh?”

      “What do you like in your tea?” Jungkook chuckled.

      “Oh, um, I drink it plain.” You fiddled with your fingers awkwardly “Do you want any?”

      “Nah, I don’t like tea.” When you turned to look at the box on the counter, he clarified “That stuff’s my roommates. He won’t mind.”

      Jungkook handed you the hot steaming mug and motioned toward the hallway. You followed him closely on the way to his bedroom. The corridor was also fairly bland with only dull beige paint and three old wooden doors decorating the walls. Jungkook pulled open the first one on the left and you could feel the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke seeping out. His room was cold, dark and surprisingly empty. There was a double bed pushed in the corner of his bluish-gray walls, a small night stand under the window, an old desk and chair and a chest of drawers where you assumed he kept his belongings. The clothes he’d worn earlier were draped over his chair and the covers of his bed were disheveled, but apart from that there was nothing else to give the room some character. There were no pictures of family or friends, no posters or books, not even general everyday stuff a person might leave around his room. It honestly looked like he’d just moved in, which was unlikely. You stepped in and looked around even though there wasn’t much to see. Jungkook’s laptop was sitting on his desk, a chunky piece of electronic with all sorts of colorful blinking lights. You’d never seen one quite like this and to be honest it was the second most interesting thing in this house aside from its owner. Jungkook moved his chair at the foot of his bed and placed the laptop onto it, ready to stream the movie.

      “Hey, do you mind if I open the window?”

      “Is it the smoke?” Jungkook chimed up “Sorry about that too.”

      He walked over and pulled the blinds up. The window opened up with a creak to reveal the already snow-covered street. It wasn’t anything severe, but it had probably piled up about an inch high. In the patches of light, provided by the street lamps, you could see it was still snowing significantly, without showing any signs of stopping. Cold crisp air flooded the room, making you shiver gently and grip the hot mug between your palms tighter. A pair of built arms wrapped around your middle from behind. Jungkook’s warm chest pressed into you, compelling your body to relax into him.

      “I’m glad I get to spend this moment with you.” He rested his chin on your left shoulder and looked out the window too. “This is my favorite time of the year. I always get excited when it starts snowing for the first time.”

      “It’s lovely.” You confirmed fondly, feeling so domestic already. It felt like you’d known Jungkook for ages and this level of intimacy was only natural. His hands smoothed over your sides, enjoying the feeling of your curves underneath the material of his hoodie. He breathed in, inhaling your soft scent and basking in the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms. He never wanted to let go, and frankly, you didn’t either. His closeness alone was enough to wipe your mind of any worry. You pulled the mug up to your lips and sipped on the scolding beverage. Mint tea, a snowy night and Jeon Jungkook was easily becoming one of your favorite combinations. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your neck and moved away from you to close the window.

      “You might catch a cold, get in bed.” He said.

      While he pulled the blinds closed once again, you placed your mug on his night stand, next to his ash tray and crawled under his pale gray covers. They were recently washed and smelled pleasantly, but it felt kind of weird to be laying in a different person’s bed. Jungkook owned a single pillow so you settled to occupy only half of it. When he turned to look at you, you tapped the empty spot beside you with a sheepish smile.

      “Damn, I’d kill to have you waiting for me in bed like that every night.” He grinned, making your heart skip. While he went to turn on the movie, you thought that you, in fact, would also love to have him in bed with you every night. As the opening credits started rolling, Jungkook scooted closed and wrapped his arms around you. Your own arm draped over his stomach as you settled into the blissful comfort of his warmth and affection.

      About forty minutes into the movie you couldn’t resist his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful and fulfilling slumber you’d had in months. The nearly full mug of mint tea started growing cold on the night stand, forgotten.

Note: It’s about damn time I posted... I’m still having trouble with my computer, but I somehow managed.

[julian-devosnack]

Never In A Million Years

Julian Devorak x Fem!MC

Warnings:  Angst NSFW 

Hey all! So this is my first fic on this account and since I wanted to showcase my specialties I wrote an angsty smut fic. Just so everyone is aware the timeline in this is a little messed up and it doesn’t entirely work with the Arcana’s storyline but I’m proud of it nonetheless and wanted to post it. I wouldn’t call this my best work but again I’m certainly proud of the time I’ve put into it and I really hope you enjoy! So without further ado here’s the fic!

Peace. This is all that Julian Devorak wishes for, the only thing he dares to ask the universe to give him. And even so he is still denied it. It seems as if the universe is just as unforgiving to Julian as he is to himself. He shivers in his bed, tossing and turning beneath the covers as sharp cries leave his lips, the same lips that you had once kissed. The same lips that you would never kiss again. With an agonized shout the ginger bolts upright completely, the covers sticking to his bare and sweaty chest as he pants heavily, his body trembling as if the whole world around him were made entirely of ice. He sits in the same position for several long moments, trying to calm himself down and remind himself that everything is as it was before. Everything is okay. He is the only living soul in this house and there is absolutely nothing here that can harm him. He has only just started to believe these things when the sudden bang of something being knocked over in the hallway annihilates the silence of his home. Julian sits in his bed, terrified, alone, helpless, as the sound of shuffling feet slowly begins to move closer to his door until he can see a shadow beneath it. He wants to move but he can’t, wants to shout and yell at the top of his lungs but finds that his mouth won’t move. He is frozen on the spot as the doorknob begins to turn and the door to his bedroom slowly opens, revealing the form of a person he hasn’t seen in months. Julian chokes softly, his eyes growing wide and filling with tears as he takes every inch of this person in, his voice finally working and his mouth finally moving as he whispers an oh so familiar name, one he hadn’t said in what felt like ages. “MC.” 

Julian watches, dazed and disoriented as you quickly rush over to his bed upon seeing his frazzled looking figure, fussing over him despite how many times he tells you he’s okay. You’re the exact same now as you had been the last time he had seen you. But the last time he had seen you you were... “MC what are you doing here?” His voice is small and full of disbelief as he takes all of you in, reaching out to touch you, to feel you for the first time in months. It feels like it has been centuries to Julian, and the gentle touch of your warm skin soothes him more than you could ever know. More than he could ever tell you. You quirk one of your eyebrows at him in confusion, that laugh he loved oh so much leaving your lips as you sit down on the bed beside him, kicking your shoes off before removing your coat, “I live here, silly. We live here. You really don’t remember? Ilya, do you feel alright?” You lay your hand across his forehead gently, and Julian leans into your touch involuntarily as if he has lost all control of his body. “Of course I remember my dear I just...” You were right of course, you had lived with Julian, but you didn’t anymore, not after what had happened. Before all of that you had come home like this every night, finishing work even later than him at times which then lead to you trying to creep into the bed without waking him. He had always found it silly that you truly believed he could ever sleep without you there by his side. But that was all gone now, you were all gone now. Weren’t you? Julian looked on in confusion as you cradled his face in your hands, pressing your soft lips against his sweaty forehead before taking both of his hands in your own, smiling at him, “I’m getting the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.” You teased, and the man in front of you couldn’t help but let out a strained chuckle. You had absolutely no idea. “You’ve been gone for so long.” Julian begins, his voice thick with sleep and emotion as he continues, “I never thought you would come back, hell, I never thought you could come back.” You look confused at that sentiment and rub your thumbs against the back of his hands soothingly, looking deep into his eyes and allowing him to drown within the vibrant colors of your own. You were so beautiful. You had always been beautiful. “Julian.” The sweet sound of your voice calling his name snaps Julian back into reality and he can’t help but blush at being caught drifting off. “Julian my love I think you had a nightmare.” Those words hit the plague doctor in front of you like a ton of bricks and he takes a moment to think them over. A nightmare? Everything that had happened, all of the agony he had gone through without you, all of that pain, it hadn’t been real? You were okay? You were still there by his side? He struggles to find words to convey the way he feels, because he is so terribly confused to learn that all that had happened to him, all that had happened to you, had been a dream, but he is so terribly happy to know that you’re still here by his side, happy to know that you’re okay. And then he remembers waking up, he remembers the cold sweat that is still pouring down his back, and he realizes that he can’t remember his nightmare, because maybe it had been that life he had thought he was leading for all of those agonizing months all along. Your gaze pours over your lover worriedly, and Julian can’t help but smile as he squeezes both of your hands, finally allowing all of his worries to fall away as the realization hits him that you’re okay, you’re right here, and he would never let you go again, be it in real life or not. And with that Dr. Julian Devorak is whole again, grinning ear to ear as he nods eagerly, “A dream, oh how smart you are to realize my love I never would have thought of that.” Because he wouldn’t have, not without you. 

The next thing Julian knows he’s sitting in the kitchen, watching you with a gentle smile on his face as you make him some tea, something you had always insisted on doing whenever he woke up from a rather vivid nightmare. The room was filled with peaceful silence as you waited for the water to heat up on the stove, filling one of the tea bags you kept lying around with some of the loose leafed tea he enjoyed so much. As the kettle on the stove began to howl Julian moved to stand up and move it off of the stove only to be stopped by you shaking your head at him as you grabbed the kettle and poured some of the steaming hot water into a teacup. Julian continued to watch you as you placed the cup down in front of him, dropping the tea bag into it and allowing it to steep as you pulled a chair over to sit next to him, your knee pressing against his own gently as you watched him raise the cup to his lips. Julian gently sipped at his tea before placing it back down on the table in front of him, leaning back in his chair with a soft sigh of relief, visibly relaxing as he gave you a shaky smile. The two of you continued to sit together in peaceful silence for a few more minutes before Julian suddenly hears you speak up and lifts his head to see you more clearly as you talk. “What was it like?” Julian raises a brow at you, crossing one leg over the other as he speaks, “What was what like, darling?” You gaze up at him through your lashes before returning your gaze to the ground in an almost nervous fashion, “Living without me.” It struck Julian suddenly that you were asking about his dream, you were asking what it had been like to be away from you for all those nonexistent months. He let out a breathy chuckle at your question, shaking his head as he took both of your hands into his own, “It was like someone had stolen the sun from the sky and bathed the world in eternal darkness. I felt as if my senses had been stolen from me except for touch and all I could feel was agony.” You watched him for a moment before squeezing his hands and grinning, “Alright drama queen, whatever you say.” Julian rolled his eyes at your comment and let out a heavy over dramatic sigh, “I’m not being dramatic, imagine what it would be like to spend your days all alone without me, having no idea where I am and what’s become of me. That’s what it felt like except it went on for six months in my dream. It was as if I had lost a part of me and couldn’t get it back, and every night was agony as I would lay there without you by my side. It truly was as awful as I claim my dear, in fact I would say it was worse than words can convey.” You were silent for a moment before motioning for him to stand up, prompting him to raise a brow at you as you giggled softly, “Come on then Ilya, stand.” Julian watched you curiously as he hesitantly stood up from his seat at the table, his tea sloshing slightly in his cup as his ankle jostled one of the table legs slightly. You took his hands shortly after he stood, pulling him to you gently as you spoke, “You know Ilya, I think you were right, you weren’t being dramatic.” You tugged on his hands suddenly, forcing him to all but fall forward haphazardly into your lap as you smirked down at him, “I couldn’t imagine a life without you, I wouldn’t want to.” You gently trailed your hands up his back, that same smirk on your face as you watched him shiver slightly, “But you did imagine a life with me, you did have to have to even though you didn’t want to. And I think you deserve compensation for what happened to you, something to help you forget.” You begin to move your hands down his back as you speak, your nails scratching at his porcelain skin as he lets out a whine, his head falling backwards instinctively as his mind begins to grow cloudy with want, with need. It had all felt so real, every second of those months without you, every tear he had shed while crying out for you at night, and even now that time without you still felt real, it still felt to him as if you hadn’t touched him in months. Your fingertips felt like pure magic as they danced across his skin, moving around his sides to slide over his stomach before they followed his happy trail all the way down to his belt. You stopped there, shaking your head as you sighed, a mock look of disappointment on your face as you moved your gaze upwards to meet his own, smirking once again as you saw that glimmer of arousal in his eyes along with the flush of his cheeks. “What did I say about sleeping in your work clothes, Ilya?” You asked, leaning in and allowing your lips to gently graze against his ear, “They’re so much harder to get off of you than your pajamas are.” You purred, nibbling gently on the shell of his ear before your lips moved downward, sucking at his neck as you began to leave hickeys scattered all over him. 

By the time you were done kissing his neck Julian was a moaning, pleading mess in your lap, the buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his stark white chest that was covered in little ginger chest hairs, and his erection pulsing against your thigh as he ground against you. He had no idea how long you had been teasing him for at this point, but he did know that to him it had felt like hours upon hours of sweet torture as your lips trailed across his skin, sucking and biting at the most sensitive parts as you marked him up. Currently you were still sat beneath him in the chair beside the dinner table, watching his reactions as you slowly ran your hands down his bare chest, tugging at the little hairs around his nipples and making him yelp at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure the action provoked. It was glorious. You bit your lip softly as you watched him, slowly moving your hand downward and into his unbuttoned pants, letting out a soft moan that made your lovers erection pulse with need as you slowly came to the realization that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. The only thing lying between the two of you now was his pants, and you would be damned if those were on for much longer. “What do you want, Julian?” You purred, palming his erection as you cooed softly at him, leaning in until you were close to his ear once again, “Do you want me to touch you?” You murmured, prompting an immediate nod from the man in front of you who was all but trembling at your words alone. “P-please MC, I’ve waited so long.” You giggled softly as you slowly slid your hand back into his pants, pulling out his erection while biting your lip softly, “I know you have, Ilya, and you’ve done such a good job too, you’re such a good boy for me.” You praised as you slowly began to stroke him, prompting him to lean his head back and let out a long, loud moan of approval, his hips jerking forward instinctively as he begged you for more. “Oh gods MC, please, I’m begging you.” You giggled at his words, moving to stroke him a bit faster as you hummed softly, “I can hear that, darling. You sound so pretty too, you always sound pretty when you’re begging.” That prompted another whine from your needy lover, and you couldn’t help but let out a moan as he bucked his hips once again, his chest heaving as he panted out your name over and over again as if it were holy. And maybe to him it was. You continued to stroke him for several more minutes before finally giving in to his pleas for more, moving your pointer finger up to his mouth and gently circling his lips with it, “Suck.” You ordered, your voice stern as you slowed your strokes down to ensure all of his focus was on you. The whine that left his mouth as he took your finger into it was delicious, and even more so than that was the feeling of his tongue circling your finger over and over again, his eyes searching yours as you began to speed up your strokes. After a few more seconds of his desperate sucking you pulled your finger from his mouth, slowly moving the hand that wasn’t busy stroking him around his body, slipping it into his pants before slowly allowing your saliva covered finger to slip inside of him, prompting a gasp and yet another whine from the overwhelmed doctor in front of you, “Does that feel good, Ilya?” You cooed, stroking him even faster as you slowly started to pump your finger, watching as his eyes squeezed shut and his head fell back, allowing you to see every inch of his hickey covered throat. He looked positively ravishing like this. Of course with all of this pleasure coming at him all at once it was obvious that Julian wasn’t going to last very long, and as his hips began to buck forward more frequently and his whines got more and more needy you began to slow down, gently removing your finger from him as your hand slowly left his throbbing cock. “Stand, Ilya.” You ordered, giggling as your lover let out a whine, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, “Whyyyy?” He pouted, his chest heaving with effort even as his panting began to slow down. “Because,” You cooed, running your hands over his thighs, “I can’t ride you in this chair.” And then suddenly without another word Julian was standing, his hair disheveled as he gave you a shaky grin, “Why didn’t you just say so?” 

By the time you managed to get Julian to the bedroom you were fairly certain he wouldn’t last very long. Twice on the way upstairs to the room your patience had been outweighed by your arousal, and you had pinned him against the wall and allowed him to grind at your hand for minutes at a time before finally coming back to your senses and prompting him to move along to the bedroom. As the two of you entered the room together neither of you said a word, you simply grabbed him by the sides of his unbuttoned shirt and pulled him to you as you slowly walked towards the bed, pushing him down on top of it once you got close. You took a few minutes to admire him from above, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly, his cock pulsing visibly as precum coated his tip. He looked good enough to eat. Slowly enough to tease him but not quite so slow that it drove you mad you began to remove your own clothing, peeling off your shirt and pants with a smirk as you watched his reactions, catching every twitch of his erection and each lip bite a he tried desperately to control his own arousal. You absolutely loved the power you held over him. You removed your bra next, watching him intently as you peeled your soaked panties away from your body, giggling at the way he groaned as he took your fully bare form in. Now that you were completely undressed you moved on to Julian, crawling over his body and hooking your thumbs into the belt loops of his pants, tugging them down with a smirk before deciding to leave them and his shirt partially on, shifting to position yourself above his throbbing cock. Julian let out a whimper as you slowly began to sink down on top of him, and you could feel him watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut in pure bliss, the feeling of him filling you up entirely nearly making you melt as you leaned down to kiss him softly. After a few seconds of adjustment on your end you finally began to move, bouncing atop his thick cock and watching his reactions closely as he moaned your name, choking on a few of his moans as he moved to rest his hands on your hips. It was rare you left him unrestrained, and it seemed as if he was using this rare occasion to his advantage. You let out a gentle moan, your hips moving faster as you began to pick up speed after a few minutes, provoking a rather shameless groan from Julian who’s chest was heaving as he bucked his hips upward desperately in an attempt to create more friction between the two of you. It didn’t take very long for Julian to get close again, and you weren’t surprised at all when his upward thrusts began to grow more and more sporadic as his moans of your name slowly turned into senseless pleas for you to keep going rather than stop. “F-fuck, MC, I’m gonna- Oh gods yes! Please darling! Oh!” You watched with a certain glimmer in your eye as Julian hit his peak, spilling himself inside of you as his mouth contorted into a perfect o shape, your name passing his lips over and over again as his hands gripped your hips with an almost bruising kind of force. You smiled softly at your lover as you leaned down to kiss his forehead before carefully moving off of him, watching with a blush as his seed ran down your thighs and on to the bed sheets below as you laid down beside him. Julian remained in the position he had been in beneath you for a few more minutes, panting softly until he finally caught his breath and turned his head to look at you, worry in his eyes, “You didn’t-” You cut him off before he could finish speaking, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away with a smile, “I didn’t need to, tonight was all about rewarding you for all you put up with. I was happy to make you happy, Ilya.” Julian watched you for a few minutes before suddenly rolling on to his stomach, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he slowly began to trail kisses down your body, humming against your soft skin, “As kind as that is I’m afraid I can’t just leave you wanting, my dear.” His voice was low and gravelly as he spoke, his lips forming a smirk as he continued, “It just wouldn’t be fair.” And then before you could say a thing in response Julian’s mouth was on you, his tongue circling your swollen clit as his fingers moved to check how wet you were before slowly slipping inside of you, the moan it provoked making your lover growl against you. 

With those long and oh so precise fingers working at you it was a wonder you lasted for as long as you did, which was in fact, not very long, and you soon found yourself panting as you laid on the mattress beside Julian who looked all too satisfied with himself as he looked you over. He adored pleasuring you, especially with how much praise he would get for it during and afterward, oh how he loved when you called him a good boy. You sighed happily as Julian rested his head on your chest, allowing you to run your fingers through his soft ginger curls as the two of you slowly drifted off to sleep. “Don’t leave me ever again.” Julian murmured softly, linking his fingers through your own with a peaceful sigh. He listened to the sound of your heartbeat for a moment, counting each and every singular beat of your heart until you finally spoke up, “I could never leave you, my love. Never in a million years.” And Julian fell asleep shortly after hearing your words, the memory of your promise lingering with him even while he slept. He woke up the next morning alone. 

Julian groaned as he sat up in bed, pushing his palm against his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as the sunlight poured in through the windows and shone straight into them, immediately provoking a splitting headache in the man. He allowed himself to adjust for a minute before slowly opening his eyes again, reaching to his left to feel around for you only to be met with a cold mattress. You weren’t there. Panic shot through Julian and he opened his mouth to call out for you only to be overcome with the sudden realization that you weren’t there at all. You had never even been there in the first place, not for months. All that time without you hadn’t been a nightmare at all, it was reality, and last night with you had been nothing but a dream. And with that his memories came flooding back to him, every little detail of every moment that had led him to where he was today, all alone in his bed with no one to confide in and no one to love. And just to punish himself he forced himself to think about each and every memory, focusing on each tragedy individually. 

It had all started the day Asra left. You had been a mess, tears rolling down your face as you rushed into his room, devastated. For as long as Julian had known you Asra had been by your side, your best friend, your partner in crime, your lover. And now not only was he gone, but your relationship was over on top of that. As far as Julian knew things had gotten pretty heated between the two of you when Asra said he wanted to leave, with you getting angry and claiming you wanted to stay while he got frustrated with you for being so willing to risk your life. Ultimately things ended with Asra telling you he couldn’t sit around and watch the love of his life die, and if you decided to stay it had to be over, he wouldn’t be able to leave you if it wasn’t over and he wanted to leave. So you ended it with him. For the people of Vesuvia. For Asra himself. After that you ran to Julian to comfort, he was one of your closest friends after all, going to him for help was completely normal. Except this time there seemed to be no consoling you, you were a mess of tears and whimpers as you begged Julian to help you forget it all. And despite how terrible he knew he was being for doing this to you, for doing this to Asra, Julian decided to be selfish. He’d helped you to forget everything for hours on end, his body trapped beneath your own as you called out his name. He had dried all of your tears that night, and after that it became a normal thing. And that normal thing turned into something more in a matter of months. Within eight weeks of Asra leaving Vesuvia you and Julian were essentially dating, and while Julian knew you felt terrible for moving on so quickly he also knew that you weren’t simply using him to forget about Asra anymore. You probably never had been. You were just as in love with him as you had been with Asra, and Julian knew that made you feel worse than anything else ever could. You had felt like a monster and there was nothing Julian could have said or done to change that. 

Four months after Asra had left Vesuvia was when it happened, Count Lucio had come to his office, weak and frail but grinning maliciously as if he were somehow winning the battle he was oh so clearly losing. He had told Julian that he had seen something earlier, something disturbing that he had to tell him about right at that moment. Julian didn’t start listening to a word the count was saying until he spoke your name. And then he lost it. Lucio was claiming you had the plague, that the cold you had come down with a few days ago was so much more than you were claiming it to be, and that he had seen you use magic to hide your blood red eyes himself. And to Julian such a thing had no chance of being possible, you were at home now safe in your bed getting some much needed rest as you allowed your body to heal. He had seen you that morning, your eyes had been the same color as always and you were doing just fine. And foolishly Julian laughed at the man in front of him, and then watched as that malicious grin turned into a frown. It seemed that Lucio had been counting on Julian believing the fact that you had the plague so he would work harder, he didn’t think he wouldn’t be taken seriously. And so he got angry, furious even, spitting venom at Julian before he finally did it. He forced a plague beetle down his throat, successfully giving the auburn haired man standing before him the plague. And from there Julian became desperate to find a cure, working tirelessly even through the worst of his illness not just for himself but for you. What would you do if you lost not only Asra but him too? How would you cope? What would become of you? It had been things like this that had kept Julian working even as his health became almost unbearably bad. And eventually he found the cure, and before he acted on anything at all he rushed home to you, to tell you what he had learned and to ask you what to do. If you could ever forgive him for killing another man, if you could stand to love a murderer. 

By the time Julian found his way to your shared home it was dark outside, pitch black even, and not a single light was on in the house. Julian had absolutely no idea how long he had been gone for at that point, he had been so busy that he hadn’t even thought about it. The only things on his mind while he had been researching the cure had been you and the city of Vesuvia, and now that he was entering your home he couldn’t help but wonder just how long he had been gone for. He called your name into the darkness, cautiously moving to turn a light on only to find you laying in bed, your hair spread out on the pillow behind you and your eyes closed. As Julian made his way closer he couldn’t help but notice how pale you looked even against the bright white bed sheets, and seeing as he had never known you to be a shallow breather he found it odd that he couldn’t see your chest moving or hear your breaths. Nothing truly sunk in until he touched you though, no realization hit him until that moment. And only then did he realize what had happened to you. Lucio had been telling the truth when he said he had seen you using magic to turn your eyes a normal color again, he had just been telling Julian for the wrong reasons, and foolishly Julian had ignored him and gotten himself trapped as he worked to find the cure. And now it was too late, and you had been sick and alone for as long as he had been gone, dying alone and scared in bed. Julian didn’t remember crawling on to the bed beside you, or pulling your body back against his chest as he cried out your name over and over again, begging you to come back to him, but the next thing he knew that was what he was doing. And that’s what he had done for the remainder of that night. 

Julian let out a heavy sigh as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, tears dripping down his cheeks and off of his chin as he clutched a pillow to his chest. You were gone, dead, never coming back to him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. You had died alone and scared in the bed he was currently sitting in, probably wondering where he was and when he was coming home, most likely worrying about him all the way up until your death because that was just the kind of person you were. You were kind and selfless and beautiful and Julian hadn’t deserved you so the world took you away. And there wasn’t a thing Julian wouldn’t give to get you back. Letting out shaky breaths as his tears came even harder Julian buried his head in his hands, sobbing softly as his body shook violently atop the sheets. And then suddenly Julian heard the front door to his home, formerly known as your shop, open, and in walked Asra, looking more than a little concerned. “Julian? Where’s MC?”. 

[as-write-as-rain]

Once Upon A Dream (remix)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed Winter Soldier, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

This is the first chapter of a Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge. Congratulations, Tara!!!! Sorry it’s so late. Hope you like it!

Chapter One

Gunshots. Squealing tires. Explosions. Breaking glass. Screams. 

The Winter Soldier’s waking life was chaos divided into clean lines, dissociated destruction by the book, mindless obedient violence.

Every kill, every mission – they all lined up in an orderly fashion, tidiness to the pandemonium. He was never really there; it was all like a walking nightmare, a hallucination that didn’t even seem real. Like watching a movie or being in the passenger seat – he witnessed all the carnage as though he were seeing it secondhand; and later, as he sat buckled in his chair, waiting for cryofreeze, the distorted memory of it seemed like he might just have imagined it all.

And then the ice would come.

And he’d drift off, to a world that seemed more real than anything he experienced during the day.

Here everything was vivid and detailed, instead of hazy and confusing. His senses seemed heightened rather than deadened, and it was only here that he ever felt truly alive or awake anymore. He was himself again, once more in control of his thoughts and his actions.

And she was here.

She’d been appearing in his dreams for as long as he could remember – although, the way dreamworlds work, there’s nothing to really indicate any long term passage of time, so it’s not like he could have pinpointed her arrival even if he’d tried. But she was there, every night, no matter how the surroundings might change.

The time he spent with her was a paradise. They’d explored forests and jungles together, wandered the streets of Paris and New York, ridden camels through the desert and dog sleds across the tundra. They’d watched the sunset on the beach, the sun-warmed sand beneath their feet; and lain in soft meadows gazing at star-strewn night skies. At times, their adventures could even be fantastical, filled with mythical creatures or impossible physics that allowed them to fly or breathe underwater. The one constant was her presence, and her love became his gravity.

Tonight, she met him on the banks of a quiet lake, surrounded by a forest ablaze with autumn color. At her feet lay two bundled blankets and a large lidded basket; several yards away there was a dock, at the end of which sat a rowboat. She turned towards him and stretched out an arm, beckoning him to join her, smiling that beautiful smile that made his heart leap.

There wasn’t another soul to be seen anywhere; just orange and yellow and red leaves, both on the trees surrounding the lake, and in their reflection in its clear waters. A small island floated in the middle of the lake, aglow with more fall foliage. The trees contrasted beautifully with the bright blue sky; the air was fresh and crisp. He inhaled deeply, relishing the scent, and joined her at the water’s edge, drinking in the gorgeous view. She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close to his side. Her warmth was welcome against the chill in the air, but somehow he was dressed in weather-appropriate clothing, so he was comfortable either way.

He helped her into the boat, and then stepped in himself, taking the oars in hand. She was a vision, wrapped in one of her blankets and smiling up at him, surrounded by the riotous beauty of fall, and he was certain this must be paradise.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was nearly a whisper, so as not to disturb the idyllic scene; but he heard her with perfect clarity.

He gave a lopsided smile, shrugging. “Sometimes I just can’t believe you’re real.”

Her laugh was musical, as she dropped her gaze and flushed. “I feel the same way.”

He steered the boat lazily around the lake, with not so much a destination in mind as a desire to really allow themselves to steep in the gorgeous view. The sun slowly moved across the sky, and when he estimated it was probably close to four, he set his course for the island. He steadied the boat for her to climb out, and then he joined her on the gently sloping shore, securing the vessel so it would not float away and leave them stranded.

Just as he was turning to help set up their picnic, the scene began to change, colors spinning and whirling together.

The trees ballooned and stretched all around him, suddenly surging closer as though in movement. The reflection of their new bell-like shapes still danced across the water – though, now that he looked, the surface of the lake itself seemed to solidify into a glassy floor. Walls materialized in the distance, lined with elegant pillars and filled with windows revealing nothing but the clear night sky. The light in the air wavered and dimmed, seemingly cast from thousands of candles throughout the expansive room. Beautiful music swelled from a small orchestra perched on a balcony. Reflections of flickering candlelight danced on the burnished floor, as couples whirled by in a kaleidoscope of color.

He looked down to discover he was clad in a velvety jacket, complete with tails – and the strangest pants/boots combo he’d ever worn. But before he could further contemplate this, a sudden fanfare sounded. The whole room paused, turning as one towards the staircase, to glimpse the newcomer.

She was beauty personified, layers of fluffy tulle cascading from her waist, giving her the appearance of wearing a cloud – or perhaps cotton candy, as the iridescent sheen of her gown seemed to shift from silvery blue to pale lavender to a sheer pink when she moved. The gems scattered across her mask flashed in the candlelight as she turned her head. She stood tall and stately, serenely surveying the ballroom, but there was something in the way that she carried herself that quietly radiated power. He could tell just by looking at her that she was not someone he wanted to cross. He was instantly captivated, and felt irrevocably drawn to her like a magnet.

She descended as though she were floating, and he deftly made his way around the edge of the room to intercept her at the foot of the stairs. Their eyes met, and he struggled to catch his breath. Warm and welcoming, sharp and wise, sparkling with wit and mischief – how could one pair of eyes speak so much? He felt as though she could see through to his very soul.

They stared at one another for several long seconds, as he struggled vainly to find something impressive to say. Seemingly coming to her senses, eyelashes fluttering, she dipped into a low curtsy. He bowed deeply in response; then, when she delicately placed her gloved hand into his outstretched one, he led her onto the dance floor.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away as they waltzed together. “Do I know you?” He asked earnestly, searching her face. “I have the funniest feeling I’ve met you somewhere before…”

“I’m sure I’d remember,” She demurred coyly. He felt a shiver along his spine when he heard her voice. She was entirely bewitching, and he couldn’t fight the conviction that he knew her. His mind warred with itself, torn between wanting to discern why she was so achingly familiar, and the desire to simply lose himself in this moment and fully enjoy her radiant presence. He surrendered to the latter.

They swept along the dancefloor, moving together in effortless harmony, their bodies in perfect tune with one another. The music seemed to surround them, enveloping them in a reverie, and he felt like they were dancing across the sky. The way his heart was winging undoubtedly helped to sustain that sensation.

He didn’t know how long they danced, as one song bled into another; all he knew was that he held an angel in his arms, and he never wanted to let go. He was lost in her adoring gaze, vaguely aware that his own expression must be a mirror of hers. Finally, he could bear it no longer, and slowly, hesitantly, tilted his face towards hers, hoping she would meet him in a kiss.

But before their lips could touch, the music started to change, transforming into a brassy calliope. It mingled with distant shouts and whoops, as the chatter of the nearby dancers became gradually louder. Scents of hot dogs and popcorn and fried dough wafted on the breeze. The shapes of the couples throughout the dancefloor began stretching and shifting as though they were reflections in a funhouse mirror. The sky – when had there been sky? – brightened, and he could feel the sun warming his face. Someone jostled his shoulder as they strode past, apologizing quickly; and when he turned back around he found Steve walking beside him. Already he couldn’t remember what he had just been doing, and instead was filled with the certainty that the two of them had been here, at Coney Island for hours.

As they strolled down the avenue, examining the various games, they heard a commotion several stalls away. Turning a corner, they saw a woman arguing with one of the game attendants; apparently she did not take kindly to being called a cheater.

“I won the top prize, fair and square! Fork it over, buddy.” Her hands were clenched, her expression so fierce that Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks started flying from her eyes.

“There’s no way you hit all the targets without cheating, missy. You’re not going to get away with hustling me!”

Bucky noted with amusement how wide the man’s eyes grew when he and Steve approached the booth and leaned nonchalantly against the counter. He supposed they must seem rather intimidating.

“Something wrong, miss?” Bucky felt a strange sense of déjà vu, and a strong instinct to protect and support this woman. Maybe he’d met her before?

She turned her glare on him, her jaw set. “This bozo doesn’t believe a girl can shoot well enough to beat his stupid game. And if he doesn’t watch himself, I’m gonna show him just how good a shot a girl can be.” She reached for the plastic gun tethered to the counter and the barker’s expression grew even more alarmed.

Bucky turned away to hide a snicker, and Steve spoke up. “Why don’t you give her another free go-round and we’ll all see for ourselves? Sound fair?”

The man grudgingly agreed, resetting the game. She picked up the gun and fired several shots in quick succession, knocking over half the targets; in under a minute, she had decimated all of the tiny men, and Bucky had never wanted so badly to kiss a dame. She tipped the fake pistol up and blew away imaginary smoke, before dropping it back onto the counter. Cocking an eyebrow at the game attendant, she popped her hip and crossed her arms, practically daring him to say something. He looked like he was about to argue, but after the quickest of glances back at Bucky and Steve, he heaved a disgruntled sigh and grabbed the biggest stuffed animal off the shelf.

Crisis averted, the woman turned off her murder eyes and smiled brightly, thanking the man in a tone that wasn’t quite patronizing (but was awfully close). Then she turned to him and Steve, and in a much more gracious tone of voice, said, “And thanks to both of you, too. I was perfectly capable of handling that myself, but a girl does appreciate allies every now and then.”

“Oh, I have absolutely no doubt of that, sugar. But I do hate to see a man mistreating a woman, so I felt compelled to intervene.” He gave her an easy smile, feeling remarkably comfortable in her presence, though he couldn’t put his finger on precisely why she seemed so familiar.

She looked him over appraisingly, and her expression seemed to indicate that she liked what she saw. Her gaze flickered briefly over to Steve and back before asking, “Can I treat you two to some ice cream? As a reward?”

Both men agreed readily, neither one capable of turning down dessert, and soon the three of them were ambling towards the confectionery, discussing favorite flavors. She let Bucky carry her prize when he offered, and Steve gave him a surreptitious wink, falling back behind the two of them and allowing Bucky to dominate the conversation.

Bucky’s spirits were high, and he was really enjoying chatting with his new(?) friend. But when they got their cones, he found that the ice cream was cold, way too cold, and it made his joints feel weird. Then suddenly there was a jumble of other sensations and a jolt of pain, some muffled yelling in a strange language –

and then he was falling awake.

[vexy-sins]

Kinktober 2018: BONUS #3 (Day Thirty-One Continuation)

Pairing: Dream x Nightmare (Dreamcest)

Featured Kinks: Breeding, Cunnilingus

Additional Notes: Fontcest/Dreamcest, noncon mention, character development, redemption, requested continuation of day thirty-one

Read Day Thirty-One: On Tumblr | On AO3

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Nightmare, as he so often seemed to do nowadays, stared at his brother, Dream, while he slept, contemplating thoughts that troubled his mind with moral dilemmas, something he hadn’t had a problem with since he’d eaten all of the apples from the tree that he and his brother once guarded so long ago. Insidious ideas swirled and frothed like waves of doubt crashing against the shores of his skull, and like any being who dared to challenge Nature, he found himself helpless to stop them.

Tonight he wondered about Dream’s… feelings. Sure, his golden brother moaned and screamed his name, begging for more every time they fucked- which was often- but for the very first time since Nightmare sought to breed him, he actually considered whether Dream truly enjoyed their couplings. Nightmare  knew the sessions were pleasurable for him. Just the thought of stuffing his brother’s cunt and asshole with tentacles stirred his magic with gleeful anticipation.

In fact, just a few hours earlier, Dream had hung, suspended by his wrists from two of the dripping tentacles while Nightmare’s many other appendages pounded him raw, filling his holes beyond their limit and making Dream’s stomach bulge. Nightmare never obstructed Dream’s beautiful mouth though; the harder and rougher he fucked his brother, the more delicious melodies of delirious praise and desperate desire poured from Dream’s throat.

When Nightmare came, he’d had to keep a thick, oozing tentacle inside of his brother’s constricting pussy to keep it from gaping too widely and spilling out his precious seed. Dream had fallen unconscious into his arms shortly afterwards, and Nightmare had cleaned him up and settled him into their shared bed with his overstimulated pussy walls still squeezing away at the sensitive tentacle, milking as much cum from Nightmare as he could produce. Now, Dream slept peacefully beside his brother, who laid awake with his tempestuous thoughts.

Peeking under the blankets, Nightmare watched in awe as the deep purple of his cum swirled within the translucent gold of Dream’s ecto-body, mingling with his brother’s magic and slowly being absorbed. Dream shifted slightly in his sleep, and Nightmare replaced the blanket quickly, not wanting to disturb the other skeleton’s rest, something he never would’ve considered before, much less allowed to occupy the forefront of his mind.

Without the vivid memories of breeding his brother distracting him, Nightmare’s thoughts returned to the subject at hand. Did Dream truly enjoy the sex, or was he simply giving in to what made his brother happy? Did Dream only ask for this in order to reestablish any semblance of the relationship that once existed between them, no matter how one-sided or tainted it may be? Did he even want Nightmare?

The questions burned in his mind. Why did it suddenly matter so much? Nightmare had hunted Dream across the Multiverse to destroy him. He’d laid waste to countless lives without so much as a second thought. He never cared who he hurt, who he killed, and least of all who he left behind to pick up the pieces. He embodied all of the evil and negativity of the Multiverse, and he cared about nothing!

Until now.

About Dream.

Nightmare realized that mending his relationship with his brother involved both of them, not just himself and his wishes. His satisfaction no longer eclipsed everything else. Dream mattered too. Dream’s emotions mattered, and allowing those things to take up space inside his skull left less and less room for his narcissism and more and more room for doors to slowly come open, revealing truths long buried, clawing their way to the surface. 

If he allowed himself to care about Dream, it meant allowing the possibility for good within himself, the possibility to reclaim what he’d lost. It also meant facing the consequences of his actions and taking a good look at who he had become, and that frightened him like nothing else. He shivered, caught on the precipice of change, too afraid to step back and not yet courageous enough to move forward.

Dream rolled over in his sleep, wiggling closer to Nightmare, both seeking the security of physical touch and offering it. Nightmare rather enjoyed it when Dream cuddled up to him, watching a slightly furrowed brow and a moue of dissatisfaction melt away into a relaxed expression. However pressing the questions were, they could wait for a more opportune time. Pulling Dream tightly against his body, Nightmare finally succumbed to sleep, a sleep blissfully devoid of his namesake.

The ooze of negativity that coated Nightmare’s entire body dripped thicker than usual the next morning as he wandered through his castle. Before he brought his brother here, Nightmare used this castle for plotting and recruiting minions to hunt for his brother. Now the halls stood empty and silent except for the drafts that somehow managed to find their way in despite the thick stone walls and sparse windows. Flames danced in the wall sconces, their eerie light teasing shadows in the corners. Nightmare couldn’t help comparing the orange tones of firelight to the bright gold that his brother radiated. He’d never thought of his castle as poorly lit before, but now he felt as if he walked through a never-ending shroud.

His meandering soon led him to the courtyard. Only scarred, barren ground hinted at the existence of the tree that once stood in the center, a haunted memory now for those who survived to remember it. Nothing dared to grow here under Nightmare’s wicked gaze, yet now he craved a hint of green or the delicate scent of flowers. Plants did not do well when nourished on dark emotions, but maybe Dream’s presence could at least coax a decent carpet of grass to take up residence. It would be... nice to sit outside, warmed by the sun, especially for Dream who must surely hate the gloomy stone corridors of Nightmare’s home, the home they now shared.

Nightmare sighed heavily. He brought Dream here to mend their broken relationship, start a family, be as close as they once were, but the more he saw his surroundings for what they truly were- the lair of a monster steeped in negativity- the more he felt that he may have wronged his brother again. This time, guilt stung him sharply. Shame gnawed away at the darkness inside of him, an emotional stranger making a sudden and very unwelcome appearance at the doorstep of his psyche, unwilling to be ignored, unable to be faced. He needed to escape it.

As he turned to seek out his brother and bury his tentacles and his emotions in a tight, wet pussy, Nightmare noticed a trail of black sludge footprints showing clearly where he’d recently walked. Strange. He would have to find someone to clean that up… later. For now, he had more important business to attend to.

Nightmare found his brother gazing out of a tower window at the desolate landscape that characterized his kingdom. The castle had not always perched upon such a dreary roost; once, the land surrounding the great stone structure burst with lush greenery and vivacious inhabitants. Nothing survives long with only negativity to nurture it though. Not life, not land, and certainly not relationships.

Nightmare pushed the thoughts aside. Watching his brother from the threshold of the tower room, desire uncurled inside of him, mirrored by the tentacles springing from his back, dripping thick black globs of negative emotion onto the floor. This desire burned hotter than normal, a desire not for his own pleasurable release but to see his brother writhing and moaning as he came undone, drunk on the heady pleasure that Nightmare promised with a curt but breathy command.

“Bend over,” rasped Nightmare, already pressing himself against Dream and clawing at his clothing. Dream obeyed, leaning over the windowsill and tilting his hips to give Nightmare access to every part of his body. Nightmare’s new resolve weakened but held. He could control himself… for his brother’s sake.

Dream braced himself, expecting immediate, rough penetration. That was Nightmare’s style after all. This time, Nightmare decided to try something different. The oozing skeleton’s eyelights fixed on Dream’s magic, pooled so delicately in his pelvis. Had he ever really stopped to appreciate it before? Of course not. He had only thought about what he could get out of it. Selfish. Foolish.

Easily remedied.

Nightmare rested his hands on either side of Dream’s round ass, gently kneading the soft golden ecto-flesh beneath his phalanges. Using his thumbs, he spread the asscheeks apart to reveal the glorious treasure between them. Dream’s asshole spasmed in anticipation of his brother’s tentacles, but Nightmare just ran the very end of his sharp thumb phalange around the rim, not entering, not yet.

Lowering his hands, Nightmare used his thumbs to part the plump pussy lips that hid Dream’s tight little fuckhole. The inner folds were glistening and silky with arousal, and as Nightmare delved between them to tease at his brother’s quivering opening, the sticky juices dribbled down to stain Dream’s femurs. The delectable scent of his brother’s excitement stirred Nightmare’s magic again. He needed a taste of that sweet, intoxicating nectar, a taste right from the source.

Nightmare knelt on the hard stone floor, bringing his face in close.

“Brother, what are you-” Dream never got a chance to finish his question because Nightmare spread his pussy wide open and dipped his tongue inside, swirling and curling it to reach every sensitive spot. Dream’s eyelights rolled back when Nightmare splayed his tongue across his pussy entrance and sucked, drinking in the arousal that now flowed as freely as his moans.

Dream’s usual screams and pleas fell drastically short of the siren-like allure of these new sounds that poured from him. Every whimper and low moan spurred Nightmare to even greater efforts until Dream clutched the windowsill like he might not be able to remain standing without it, and with the way his legs trembled, it was a definite possibility.

“Fuck… oh, fuck…” gasped Nightmare, tongue buried in his brother. He couldn’t wait any longer. He stood up and stepped back in one fluid motion, licking Dream’s tangy juices from his mouth with a greedy tongue.

Nightmare spun Dream around to face him, pushing his brother up against the wall and lifting his legs to settle him onto his pelvis. “Be as loud as you want, brother. I want the whole world to know you’re mine and to hear what I’m doing to you,” Nightmare growled against Dream’s cheek, releasing the smooth purple magic of his erection from his pants and rubbing it between Dream’s pussy lips. His cock slipped in with surprising ease, and it felt absolutely incredible to sink into that tight, wet heat at his brother’s core.

As per his brother’s request, Dream didn’t hold back. Instead of his typical screaming and shrill begging, he gasped, moaned, mewled, and sang Nightmare’s praises to a kingdom laid waste below them. If there had been anyone left to hear them, the lewd noises may have quickened their steps on the journey home for a steamy tryst of their own.

With one hand pressed to the wall to cushion the impact of their movements and prevent the stones from bruising his brother and the other digging into his brother’s ass cheek, Nightmare huffed and panted, thrusting with wild abandon, losing himself to the passion. Dream’s pale bone hands scrabbled at the sludge that coated Nightmare’s clothing and bones, finally gaining purchase on his ribcage through the thin fabric of his shirt. Holding on tightly, Dream rocked his hips into every thrust, and it drove Nightmare wild.

Unable to contain himself, his entire being demanding more, more, more, Nightmare leaned forward and found Dream’s mouth. With a whisper-soft cry, Dream opened his mouth, and Nightmare kissed him, hungry and demanding. Dream’s arms and legs locked around his brother as Nightmare swallowed his moans, moving their mouths as if they could never get enough of each other. Their tongues met, touching tentatively at first, then stroking each other in tandem with the movements of their hips.

“S-so close,” hissed Nightmare, breaking the kiss to gulp air. His body shook with the impending orgasm. Nothing had ever felt this good in his entire life.

Dream could only gasp a single syllable, a name that his brother hadn’t heard since he’d become bitter and jaded so long ago and changed his name into the bristling armor that it was today. “Night.” Just Night, not Nightmare. The moniker sent him careening over the edge into glorious euphoria.

Nightmare laid awake in bed with a drowsy Dream laying across his chest. More mess than usual had been left in the tower room, excessive amounts of black sludge residue in addition to the mingled sex magic from himself and his brother. That would be a worry for another time. Now he wanted to address the question that prevented him from dozing off with Dream.

“Dream,” he murmured tentatively, unsure if his brother was even lucid enough to answer with the mixture of orgasm afterglow and sleepy contentedness. Dream made a sound of encouragement for Nightmare to continue.

“Do you… enjoy it… when we have sex?” Nightmare actually struggled to get the words out. He felt Dream tense up in his arms, then immediately relax.

“Today was amazing,” Dream replied, nuzzling his face against his brother’s ribcage despite the layer of negativity that coated it.

A wry smile briefly crossed Nightmare’s face. Of course Dream had enjoyed the sex today. Amazing didn’t even begin to describe what they’d shared. “I meant before. Before today,” Nightmare amended.

Dream hesitated, and that hesitation cut like a knife. “I love being close to you again,” Dream hedged, neatly sidestepping the actual question. A mountain of unspoken words rose in the silence that followed. 

The nonanswer provided its own answer. He’d fucked up and hurt his brother under the guise of rebuilding their relationship, and they both knew it. Dream was just too kindhearted to say it outright. Nightmare didn’t sleep at all that night, mulling over his transgressions until the sun peeked over the horizon.

When Nightmare finally got out of bed, he noticed an alarming amount of negativity left behind on the sheets and pillows, though none of it dared to smudge Dream’s gleaming bones or nightclothes. The malignant monarch toyed with the idea that this continuous exposure to his brother’s eternal positivity could be depleting his life force, but if the price of restoring their once-close relationship was his very existence, well, it would not be unjustified. The concept of justification and accountability brought his mind back to more pressing matters that weighed heavily on his newfound conscience- his minions.

His minions had been forced into his service after he’d destroyed their homes, their families, their lives. Twisted by desperation and hopelessness, they believed that they had no choice but to toil forever under the slime-coated boots of their unforgiving and unfeeling tyrant without any future to look forward to except for servitude unto death. He’d stolen their choices from them… just like he had done to his brother. He had so much to make amends for, and the time to get started was long overdue.

Right and wrong are principles that only exist in the minds of those who seek out the former and wish to avoid the latter. Those who commit acts of evil rarely care in what light their actions are described. This realization gave Nightmare something to mull over, lurking in the shadows while Dream spoke with his former minions, encouraging them to rebuild their town and inundating them with hope for a brighter future. Dream truly shone in his position as savior, something Nightmare found himself admiring as his perception of the world slowly shifted for the better.

Change did not come easily, but it did come, and once it began, there was no stopping it. Nightmare laid awake many nights reliving mistakes that he hadn’t even considered to be mistakes at the time, but each day more light found its way into the castle and the once frigid drafts warmed into fresh summer breezes.

Under Dream’s positive influence, the overall ambiance in the castle continued to improve, but Nightmare himself seemed to be melting at an alarming rate as the days passed. He tried to hide the sludge piles from Dream. If Dream’s sunny personality was killing him, he didn’t want his brother to know it. Dream, for his part, didn’t comment on the messes, but his expression grew more concerned each time he saw how much of the dripping negativity Nightmare left in his wake.

Soon, pale fabric and paler bone peeked through the fine sheen of darkness, and Dream could no longer hold back his emotions. “Brother, you look terrible! What’s happening to you?” he asked, voice trembling.

“I always look terrible. Being the embodiment of negativity does that to a guy,” Nightmare attempted to joke. When Dream refused to take the bait, he tried lying. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” His answer was as unsatisfactory as his brother’s had been when he asked his own very serious question, and that towering mountain of avoided communication loomed between them once more.

Hurt and disappointed, Dream slept on his own side of the bed with his back to his brother, a silent protest that reverberated through the room with more intensity that any shouted words. A fitful sleep was Nightmare’s only escape, and he accepted it readily.

Dream shook his brother from slumber the next morning, babbling frantically. “Night! Night, your face! Look at your face!”

“Can’t look at my own face,” grumbled Nightmare tiredly, though Dream’s tone and his use of the cast aside name roused him from their bed. He stumbled across the floor to the bathroom mirror… and stared in wordless wonder at the face that stared back at him. 

Nightmare reached out tentatively with a shaking hand to touch the reflective surface that held the image of a face unmarred by the perpetual ooze of negativity- round cheekbones and an open, honest smile that he barely recognized, but the sight of his hand startled him even more. The bones were clean and white with no dark patina of corruption left to drip from them. He still felt the negativity pulsing inside of him, but it no longer consumed him, no longer defined him. He had been liberated.

Nightmare cast aside his clothing, still stained with remnants of the muck and his old bitter life and turned on the shower, inhaling the steam as the water heated before stepping in to make sure no traces of goop remained. Scrubbed clean, he emerged back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to see Dream standing there, smiling and holding out… his old uniform.

The high collared silk shirt with its ornate buckles and the matching pants brought back memories of dappled sunlight, sitting under the tree with his brother while the apples swayed in the breeze that sent scattered cotton puff clouds chasing after their shadows far below. The entire ensemble was crisp and clean with not a wrinkle or a dust particle to be seen, clearly Dream’s handiwork.

“I found this tucked away in a trunk, and I thought you might want to wear it again one day. Now seems like a good time,” said Dream softly.

Nightmare took the clothes, rubbing the silk between his phalanges, Despite all the changes he’d made recently, he still clung to the mantle of Nightmare. Maybe it was time to place that personification into a chest to be tucked away and forgotten in some unused room within the castle. Maybe it was time to become simply Night again. He dressed himself, marveling at how well the clothing still fit him. A lifetime of changes had changed very little at all.

Dream moved behind him, and Nightmare felt a once familiar weight settle atop his head. His crown. He knew Dream didn’t find the crown in the castle; he’d discarded the unnecessary finery when he became Nightmare and hadn’t seen it since. Dream must have kept it for all these years. Now his brother returned it to its rightful place, completing the transformation of Nightmare back to Night.

“You’re quite handsome when you’re cleaned up,” giggled Dream, admiring his handiwork.

Night couldn’t force his mouth into a scowl with the compliment echoing around the room, but not even genuine praise managed to subdue his snark. “We were formed from the same energy source. We’re practically twins,” he pointed out.

“I know, silly,” Dream shot back, kissing Night’s pristine cheekbone. Silly. Nobody had addressed Night with such flippant endearments before. He liked it. Silly. Perhaps someday he would try it out, this being silly he stood so wrongly accused of. Dream didn’t point out the adorable purple blush creeping across Night’s cheekbones. He’d teased his brother enough for tonight… but tomorrow was a new day.

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“This is where our tree used to be?” Dream asked softly. Night nodded, carefully avoiding his brother’s eyelights. Dream touched the parched, cracked earth. “It’s so-”

“Desolate,” suggested Night emotionlessly, trying to force a judgement from his brother. Dream refused to play along.

“I was going to say full of potential.” Night blinked. Of course Dream would put a positive spin on a barren patch of dirt. “There’s so much life waiting just beneath the surface for a little encouragement and care to help it to grow. Even when things look bleak and hopeless, there’s always a possibility for something better.”

Dream’s words touched his brother deeply. They would restore life and beauty to the courtyard. They would bring growth to dormancy and breathe the breath of life into emptiness. The transformation in the garden would reflect the transformation in Night himself. Work progressed quickly once the decision was made.

Dream’s radiant positivity coaxed multitudes of bright green shoots from the soil, and they uncurled to face the sunshine as if awakening from a long slumber. Dream darted from one section of the garden to the next like a joyful bee enjoying the bounty of spring. Night watched him from an archway that connected the courtyard to the castle, wearing the shadows like he’d once worn his seeping negativity. He didn’t dare to enter the courtyard. Plants wilted beneath the heavy burden of negative emotion, and Night hated the idea of destroying what his brother had newly curated.

Time passed, and the garden expanded and flourished, filling the entire courtyard… except for one area that remained conspicuously empty. Nothing grew in the very center of the courtyard, the space that their tree once occupied. Night didn’t comment on it. If plants weren’t able to grow there at the site of so much heartache and upheaval, he didn’t want Dream to feel bad about it, and if it was a conscious decision on Dream’s part to leave that area as a monument to what had once been, Night had no complaints about that either. In fact, Night had very little to complain about lately.

During the day, Dream tended to the courtyard garden under Night’s watchful eyelights or proposed decor changes to the stark castle walls and floors. It surprised Night how much the warm tones that Dream chose managed to create such a welcoming atmosphere while still maintaining the somber formality of castle living. Dream frequently invited Night to join him on shopping excursions into the town, but Night preferred to stay away from the townspeople, reluctant to remind them of his tyranny.

Dream would not be denied. He coaxed and encouraged Night just like one of his small seedlings, finally convincing him to venture from the castle grounds down into the town where he hadn’t set foot since he’d utterly decimated it. At first the townspeople hid from him, just as he suspected, but little by little, they came to recognize the brothers as a source of business and prosperity, even offering Night samples of baked goods when the two skeleton monsters ventured to the market for supplies. Their acceptance was so much more rewarding than their fear.

By day, Night worked on himself, but when the velvety curtain of nighttime fell, Night worked on his personal hobby- pleasuring his brother. Night discovered that if he licked, sucked, and stroked Dream’s pussy and clit just right, he could curl Dream’s toes, arch his spine, make his eyelights roll back and his pussy gush with sweet arousal. He drank the explosion of juices and drove Dream to new heights of orgasm every night. The breeding still hadn’t taken yet, but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.

Thoughts of delving between his brother’s thighs occupied Night’s mind while Dream bent over in the courtyard garden, inspecting the heavy buds on the flowers he’d nurtured. Night expected them to have bloomed by now, opening their petals to drink the early morning dew as flower blossoms generally did, but he lacked the horticultural knowledge to be sure. If anyone could awaken a riot of colors on the once drab grounds, though, it would be his brother.

Dream straightened. “The flowers are ready,” he declared, interrupting Night’s salacious reverie.

“Ready for what?” Night asked, perplexed. Were they going to bloom right now? He craned his neck, but the buds looked the same as they had a few minutes ago, the same as they had looked yesterday and the day before that. How could Dream even tell they were ready?

“For tonight.”

“Tonight?” echoed Night, feeling extremely silly even without Dream using the term of endearment. Dream just smiled at him and nodded without elaborating. Night thanked the stars that he wasn’t a cat or curiousity would’ve come in for a swift and brutal assassination right then and there. Instead, he resigned himself to wait. He trusted his brother.

Dream gently pushed Night away when he burrowed under the covers for his bedtime snack. “Later,” Dream promised with a musical laugh when Night pouted and grumbled. To his credit, the disappointed skeleton moved away, accepting the rejection, something he wouldn’t have done when Dream first moved to the castle with him. 

Night wanted to be better, but change was hard… as hard as he was, going to sleep with his mind filled with images of railing his brother senseless without the benefit of actually doing so. The disappointment softened and gave way to contentment, however, when Dream curled up next to him. Sometimes pleasure came from putting his brother’s desires first, even if they countermanded his own.

Dream roused his brother a few hours after midnight, holding up a picnic basket and a blanket invitingly. Night yawned and stretched, pulling on his clothing and following dutifully behind his brother who seemed so out of place creeping through the castle corridors under cover of darkness, his golden aura shimmering like a fiery torch to ward off the chill and tendrils of shadows that crawled along the floor just outside of the sphere of illumination. 

When the two skeletons arrived in the courtyard, Night couldn’t contain his gasp of wonder. The full moon angled perfectly over the inner walls of the castle to kiss the garden with enchantment, and the flowers held their blossoms wide open for the attention. Under the moon’s pale glow, Night picked out lovely shades of white, yellow, pink, and even deep, rich blues and purples, and the scents filled the air, delicate and mysterious. Smiling smugly, Dream spread the picnic blanket on a patch of lush grass and set the basket on top of it.

“I only planted night-blooming flowers,” he explained unnecessarily. “I wanted you to see the beauty that thrives in the darkness.” He patted the blanket, and Night sat down next to him.

“Darkness sure, but nothing can survive in negativity,” Night argued weakly. His eyelights darted from plant to plant, painstakingly chosen and lovingly tended to provide this gift for him. He didn’t deserve it. He was still the embodiment of negativity even if he wasn’t actively wielding it like a shield and sword.

Dream sighed wistfully, and Night regretted his characteristically negative comments. He should be thanking his brother, not arguing with him. Dream’s next words surprised him.

“You’re wrong.” Night just stared at his brother. “Adversity promotes growth. It encourages people to strive and overcome, to find the strength to move forward, and to appreciate their achievements in spite of it. Positivity breeds stagnation and complacency.” Night tried to argue the point, but Dream held up a hand to silence him. “Without negativity to give people goals to work towards, positivity is meaningless. Without the hope for a positive outcome, negativity destroys. Positivity and negativity need each other, like we need each other.”

Tears gathered in Dream’s sockets, and Night reached over to wipe them away. Dream sniffled but continued his speech as Night wordlessly wrapped his arms around his brother. “People loved me for my positivity. They basked in my light, and I let them. It felt good to be admired, to be valued, but they only wanted the positivity for themselves and nothing else. They didn’t know me or want to know me, yet I let them lure me away from the one person who truly understood me. I let their attention blind me to your suffering until you felt you had no other choice but to consume the apples and kill the tree. You didn’t cause what happened here, Night. We both did.”

“I-” Night sputtered, but Dream pushed him down onto the blanket and straddled him, tears quelled and eyelights hazy with desire.

“I want to make it up to you,” Dream whispered against his skull in a husky voice before running his hand down the front of his brother’s pants and stroking the magic into a throbbing erection. Night could only groan in anticipation.

Dream shimmied out of his pants, then tugged Night’s pants off as well, tossing them carelessly away into the silver-dappled darkness. He lowered himself, locking eyelights with Night and letting his golden tongue dart out to catch a drop of pre-cum on his cock. Stroking the length of the purple shaft almost reverently, Dream lapped at it until it glistened with his saliva. Lifting himself up, he guided it between his pussy lips. Night actually thought he might faint at the initial hitch of entry. He’d never experienced such intense pleasure in his life, and Dream was only getting started.

Dream lowered himself with agonizing slowness, letting Night feel the tight grip of his pussy sliding all the way down the length of his cock, squeezing and fluttering around it as it filled him up and spread his plump pussy lips wide. Night panted and moaned beneath his brother as Dream gradually quickened his pace, lifting and lowering himself, tilting his hips to get the perfect angle. Night held on to his brother’s pelvis, lifting his own to thrust in tandem with his brother. 

Their heads tipped back and their tongues protruded from their gasping mouths as they worked together towards a powerful orgasm. It built swiftly, like thunderheads darkening the sky just prior to opening up and letting the deluge of blinding pleasure roll over the two skeletons.

“B-breed me, Night, Fill me up,” wailed Dream plaintively.

“So close… almost… ahh!” Night cried, arching his back and slamming into Dream one final time, holding him in place as cum poured into his eager pussy. Dazed and drunk on the sweet bliss of orgasm afterglow, Dream laid his head on Night’s chest, closed his sockets, and dozed off. Night fell asleep underneath his brother, still inside of him, and for once, completely satisfied with the world.

“Night! Night wake up! You have to see this!” Dream’s excited voice shattered Night’s sleep, and after the disorientation of waking up outside, pantsless in the courtyard solidified into memories of last night, Night shot bolt upright. Dream faced away from him. Could he be…?

Night rushed to his side, ready to ask Dream if there was a soulling growing inside of him when he saw it. A rapidly growing sapling occupied the site where their tree once stood. In a matter of minutes, the new tree had matured enough to bear small fruits, and Dream and Night both reached out to touch one.

The fruits of the new tree bore only a small resemblance to their predecessors. The apples on this new tree were smooth and gold… and shot through with shimmering darkness that possessed a blue-purple iridescence similar to Night’s magic. The appearance of the fruit was a riddle easily solved. These apples were light and darkness. These apples were positivity and negativity. These apples were balance. These apples were theirs, and this time they would protect them.

Together.

INDEX | READ ON AO3

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |5|

Yoongi x Reader

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Words:2859

Links to other parts in my masterlist

if you want to be tagged let me know :)

Warnings: Smut :), soft piano scene,

(Mention’s on Monsta X’s Wonho)

Reblog, Like, Comment :)

//Yoongi was sparring constantly with regret, why did he choose to work over spending more time with you? The fact he couldn’t answer himself only exasperated his irritation; the only way he could justify himself was acknowledging you’d both probably be getting drunk and by not going he was severing any possibility he’ll leave himself vulnerable by confessing any of his true feelings. All reason ceased to exist when his phone pinged beside him.

-You’ll never guess who’s turned up as a surprise performer-

Hobi knew he was never indulge in this guessing game.

-When have I ever guessed anything you’ve said to me :P –

-True …-

He was never going to reply nor did even need to finish reading the name, he almost stumbled vaulting himself out of the chair and racing to get dressed before leaving in a frantic state. //

  You followed Yoongi like a scolded child, conscious of your surroundings you had the sense to not cause a scene, your glare burned hot into the back of him as he ended up leading you to the underground secure car park of the venue. The minute you stepped out of the elevator the simmering temper boiled over.

“What right do you have coming here and telling me what the fuck to do, my career was nearly non-existent because of that prick” The start of your career was stunted slightly when you were due to release a collaborated song and you refused to agree to release it or have anything to do with it with no reason. That you gave anyway.

“You’re seriously going to make me repeat myself, I’m trying to save you from fucking yourself and your career over” He’d stopped and turned, his jaw muscles twitched as he clenched his jaw, it was as if he’d swallowed a hot fire seed which grew and he was fighting to keep the flames from escaping.

“And besides, how are you any better than he is” you spat back, his eyes grew as wide and as puzzled as physically possible.

“What did you just say?” the glare he shot at you had you stumbling over your thoughts as he minimised the distance between you.

“Well you know what he did yet you still thought it was okay to take me home and sleep with me when you knew I was in no state or right mind” and there it was, the root cause of all your distaste for the guy stood frozen completely flabbergasted in front of you.

“What? We’ve never… what do you actually remember from that night” Your anger was an inferno with no intention of dying out, you refused to acknowledge any excuse or explanation he’d try and offer. You stood there confidently chest out, refusing to back down.

“You storming into my dressing room peeling that asshole off me and saving me, then finding myself awake and undressed in your bed with you nowhere to be found”

“So you don’t actually remember much then, jesus is that why you’ve been such a bitch with me? You thought I’d do something like that?” He was expression was nothing less than mortified, his face drained of the little colour he already had. Scowls had seeped into his words at the accusation, your inebriated system had caused a delay in processing any of this information.

“Let me fill you in, I came to your room to congratulate you on the single and ask you out, I get outside your dressing room and hear some kind of struggle. When I saw him forcing himself on you I acted completely on impulse, yes I pulled him off you, how do you think he broke his nose huh? Me! You was in a complete state, hysterical. You made me swear not tell anyone and not to involve the police, you were petrified of anything affecting your debut. You begged me to just take you home but I wasn’t going to let you be on your own; so yes I took you home. I cold compressed where you felt bruised and even sat with you until your tears stopped. When I left you in my room you were dressed. Whatever you did when I left was nothing to do with me. I slept on the couch”

You may as well have been hosed down with ice water with how this revelation had slapped you in face. You were struggling to even formulate a response, your hot headed ness soothed rapidly to a quiet motion, your chest deflating, you’d shrunk dramatically in size.

“Why… why did you never tell me?” the toxicity of your tone had also dissipated into nothing.

“Tell you? You never gave me a chance, I’d left to go get you some breakfast and some toiletries or whatever so you could at least freshen up and by the time I’d got back you’d left. It’s not like we’d ever exchanged numbers, I got hold of your management and if you remember you refused any contact with me” he spoke with a subtle defensive aggression, his pride and beating heart wounded caused the brightness in his eyes to dim as the blood flow slowed. How could you have got this so wrong, you’d hated and blocked a genuine thoughtful guy from helping you and assuming the worst out of him. The spiral of guilt started gaining momentum dragging with it embarrassment and shame. Yoongi apparently seeing this downfall of your own declining thoughts on your face he comforted his hand over yours.

“Yoongi I’m…”

“Hey” his tone had lowered to a soft and soothing blanket. You hauled your chin up and met his gaze with heavily water filled eyes.

“It’s okay” the glaze of caramelizing sugar coating his eyes. Your mind became a void, unable to even comprehend how you felt in this moment. The only physical response currently manifesting was a racing pulse and the dull remnant ache between your legs that apparently had refused to subside through the drama.

“Okaaayy… you clearly need rescuing from your mind, come on let’s go home” Yoongi finally said.

“Thanks” you offered a weak smile and allowed Yoongi to drive you home.

 “You came to ask me out?” you finally asked bemused after your brain had stopped endlessly whirring. Your mind had settled, a calm and contented void creeped over your being.

“That’s seriously the first thing you’re going to say?” he chuckled.

“Let’s just pretend it’s the drink, come on spill” the alcohol was only mildly impairing you or your actions but it was definitely making teasing him more amusing. Even in the darkness, the flickering of the street lights illuminated a slight tainting of his cheeks to a light pink. His mouth dropped opened slightly in a grin and rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Firstly fuck that was hot, secondly he still blushed, were there still feelings?

“Okay, now I’ll rescue you shall I?”

“Please” he was thankful for the dodge.

It was almost as if a dam had broken between the two of you, animosity completely evaporated you don’t remember ever laughing so much in such a short drive.

Your hand gripped at the back of your heels as your feet adjusted to the cold tiled floor of his apartment. You dumped your bag on the side and your shoes cluttered to the floor as you hoped onto the breakfast bar in a happily adolescent manner.

“And do you remember how much forehead you had when your hair was all spiked up” you jested, bending over to soothe your exhausted stomach muscles

“How is that worse than those pig tails you used to have on the side of your head and especially that weird bit of hair you had dyed separately” his adorable laugh and smile were constant, you were doing best to not snort in between hardly catching a second to take a breath.

“Okay, okay we both made some terrible fashion choices” you conceded sipping some much needed water.

“But didn’t we think we were IT”

“Oh my god we sooooo did” you took longer than you needed to sliding off the bar and bouncing to join Yoongi on the couch, your hand dripped over the back, legs tucked under you. Yoongi was practically a mirror at the other end.

“But you know what I stand by the music, I don’t regret any of it” a solemn smirk rested on your face, your mind skimming through your back catalogue and more early releases. It brought to you a sense of warmth that seared through your blood, re-iterating your passion for you work.

“Really? He exclaimed “Even your cover of Monster?” he winced, a coy smile burning through his scrunched features. In retaliation you launched a pillow as a projectile, he deflected the incoming with ease.

“I mean…” you chuckled “That was a steep learning curve but it was lesson I needed all tooooo much” The amused atmosphere dissipated into a calm contemplative silence. You observed his features with a fine toothed comb, adoring everything your eyes rested upon. You was lost in a vivid day dream come to life. The tall stand-alone lamp illuminated a glow around you and the piano. The piano.

“Play me something” you implored, pumping as much glucose into your voice and your pleading eyes to win him over.

“Now?”

“Mmmhmm” your head rested on the back of the sofa arm cradling your hair, you curled up nuzzling against the doughy comfort of the chair.

“Well how can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?”

He shuffled on the small leather stool until he’d achieved his desired position, his long slender fingers ghosted across the length of the keyboard as is to tease the music awake before he made his own. The melody was beautiful, so soft it breezed straight through you resulting in you feeling fuzzy, your gaze drifted from the hands capable of bringing an entire room to awe to the focused, absorbed face staring at nothing but the keys depressing down under his touch. At times he even closed eyes for several keys completely washed over with his first love. He plays like nobodies watching, and you watch drowning in the soul he pours out when he plays. He really was a beautiful human in every way.

Could things have worked out differently?

“Y/N are you alright?”

Pulled out from the waves you grew aware your eye’s had filled and small droplets had escaped and trickled down your cheek. Wiping the vulnerability away in a rush to sit up composed, eyes down as you became way too self-conscious.

“Yes, I’m fine that was just beautiful, and another word about thi…” your unfinished defensive threat was halted, the delicate comforting pressure of his lips soothing yours rattled your heart, swept you into a level of perfect contentment. You leaned into the hand cupping your face like a fragile shell.

“That was beautiful, I’ve wanted to do that for years” the subdued, washed out tone of his voice cracked the already frail shell that resembled any resistance to his words.

Any negative wrongly believed views or opinions of him melted down, fluorescing into a warm beautiful orchard of uncovered adoration.

“I should never have made you wait or been such a bitch” you leaned to him to acknowledge your mirrored feelings. It wasn’t long before the beautiful orchard became a blazing forest fire spreading through the pair of you dangerously fast. He offered up no resistance as you pushed him back and straddled his waist, his hand to the back of your neck; the other wasted no time in creeping up the outside of your thigh. His fingers teasing excited exhales from your lips which were directly captured amongst the flurry of hot and heavy kisses. Your lips hardly ever parting, his hand slipped from grasping the curve of your behind to navigating southwards towards your pulsing bundle of nerves. You refused him and clipped his hands together under one of your hands above his head.

“Did I say you could touch me there?” You teased unable to keep a smirk from growing wide across your face. He didn’t respond, his eyes were blown out full of swirling passion and disbelief that this was finally happening. You watched his eyes intently unaware you were staring directly into a warzone of thoughts

“We can’t do this right now” he breathed, even you could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“What…why?” you sat back onto his lap, releasing an exaggerated huff.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, god I do” he paused, you followed his eyes downs to rest at his clothed erection “Obviously” his eyes snapped back “You pretty much hated me for years because you thought something had happened when you were drunk. I’m not risking that again, I wouldn’t feel right”

You sat intently taking in every word like each one was a secret code to save your life. The respect you had for him swelled uncontrollably, you understood his reasons with perfect clarity but the frustration attempted to blur the view

“I’m not even that drunk!” you whined contesting against his good natured reasoning. He went to speak again but you were not done. “But I get it” you carried on more softly conceding. “And don’t think I won’t make you regret this, it’s not nice to get so worked up” you toyed, ideas of your own back already blooming in your mind.

“Mmm I can’t wait” his face creasing into an appeasing smirk.

Interesting

“Well I’ll see you in the morning then” you leaned forward and gave him a strong kiss dragging his lip out slightly between your teeth before abruptly leaving him like the flustered, regretful mess he was on the sofa.

You was still going to have a bit of fun with him tonight if it killed you. Once you was all settled in bed you grabbed your phone, the bright artificial light blaring away the true darkness around your vicinity.

-To think you didn’t even get to feel how wet you made me-[23:47]

Normally the fresh scent and the comfiness of the bed would threaten to drag you into an unconscious state but currently you was way too charged, your eyes were wide managing the silhouettes of your room. Your eyes dropped shut accompanied with an exhale as your fingers glided blissfully through your arousal.

-Is this you making me regret my decision? Because that ship sailed when you left me wanting nothing more than to feel that under my tongue??-[23:49]

-Well if you’d decided to not think so much it would be your tongue and not my fingers right now. Your loss-[23:50]

A quiet gasp left you as you began teasing yourself imagining the sight of his head nestled in between your thighs.

-Fuck.Want to know what I’m thinking now?-[23:52] You interest was piqued immediately, you began tilting your hips pushing into your fingers.

-Depends, if it beats me thinking about how I want you right now-[23:53]

-And how’s that?-[23:53]

You took a beat to slow the pace of your fingers and considered whether to tell him you’d like him beneath you begging you to let him cum whilst your hands were round his neck. Maybe not just yet.

-you first-[23:54] While you waited for his response you rolled over and fished out your bullet vibrator from the depths of your bag and clicked it on to your favourite setting. Your moan escaped you with much more volume than you could control.

-You better not be touching yourself, if you are stop. I never told you you could-[23:54] you hastily added.

-I’m just thinking of how I could walk in there right now get you on all fours and have you cumming around my cock while my hand is yanking your hair back with you crying my name.[23:55]

A second buzz immediately followed the first, you edged yourself to read the second message

-Also are you serious? Of course I’m touching myself and I can hear you moaning, it’s driving me insane-[23:55]

You was too far gone at this point to stop your climax pulsing through you. When you’d drifted back down from your high you sent your reply, hints of aftershocks were still washing through.

-Good!-[23:59].

You woke up in a vacuum of darkness, the day had yet to even stir. A Slight thumping clouding your head. You pulled over a nightshirt and slowly bumbled your way to the kitchen and helped yourself to a glass of water. Filling your second glass you headed back to hopefully shift back into your dreams, you hesitated passing Yoongi’s door teetering on your next actions. Decision made you twisted the handle delicately and crept around the furniture you could see through the shadows utilising the moonlight which trickled in through the curtains. He was asleep on the right side, you silently slid in on the left shuffling with gentle motions toward the centre of the bed before rolling over and shifting to face outwards. The sleeping prince next to you stirred, nuzzled closer into the back of your neck and an arm drifted round your waist.

[cloudy-ainsel]

1 January, 2019

How interesting that on the first day of the new year I have a dream where I speak with Death. It was rather fun, actually. I'll give some context. Hopefully it doesn't get flagged :^D (you'll see in a bit). Sorry again for the long post but I just have so much to talk about!

So, there's this interesting portal, where you punch in coordinates and get transported to alternate realities. Sort of like Rick Sanchez's portal gun, but it's not portable - it's always in the same place, in this hidden little room in a house that looks like the beach house I lived in between 7-11 years-old. I knew it could transport me to places I'd visited before in dreams, but most of them were dangerous and I wasn't interested in revisiting.

The portal was also stationed at a place I was studying. Even though it was a university course the classroom looked like one of my high school's. I was studying a computer science course, just an elective I had mild interest in. I remember there would be times I'd leave one reality in particular to come out and resume class, feeling giggly like a small child with a secret.

This one particular reality. It was like a huge treasure trove. A tiny little pocket, full of the riches this famous old thief stole and carved out a little safe haven for himself using some kind of old cosmic power he barely understood. You could feel it was slightly unstable, but it had held for hundreds of years, bordering on thousands.

It was also home to porn. Like... a lot of porn. Gee wiz.

I wasn't the only one who knew about this place. There were a bunch of people who'd found it either by accident or word of mouth on the dark web. They usually would come here for the massive porn stash :^) But you did have the occasional would-be treasure hunter. Every now and then I'd see if it had a ridiculously specific kind of porn out of morbid curiosity.

Anyway. To finally get to my original point.

I can't remember how. But one time, as I was going through the motions, I met Death.

I think he he may have knew someone who knew me. It was likely Simon. He and my larger friend group did make small appearances in this dream. I spoke with him/them? like I'd maybe had small chats with him before. We were going to the treasure trove portal. I just wanted to see if I could find something, some kind of rare collectible I'd talked about with my classmates from the computer science course. I think Death was there for something slightly different, but for whatever reason I stuck by them.

They felt strangely comforting. Not like a dementor or anything, how Death is sometimes portrayed. They did wear a black robe, but they felt like an old friend, like I was safe with them. This treasure trove was in a dark pocket. If you got lost or stuck or attacked, you were here forever.

Who'd attack me while Death was there?

I was a bit drunk at the time, I admit. I had a piece of paper with me with directions I'd written down, and was just rambling. I felt like Death was used to this, and was staying with me out of politeness. Eventually I found what I was looking for and returned to class.

A day or two went past and I received a letter, or saw it on a blog, I can't remember if it was one or the other or if it was a weird dream mixture of the two. Death had written me something. They had drawn me several pictures, of them talking and myself. They were really well done. They were a sequence actually, of the conversation we'd had earlier. Around them were words. He was talking about how nice it was to have someone talking with him as if it was any old conversation, rather than a constant feeling of them trying to one-up him or interrogate him or impress him. He wrote about how I'd giggle when I thought of something funny to say, or go "ooooooooh" when I found something interesting.

The sequence ended with him giving me a hug, in a form he could sense I would have found the most comfortable, which was what he wanted to do at the time, but didn't, and he regretted it. The form still wore black, but no longer a robe. Just a jumper. He had a shock of black hair, and a gaunt face, but he looked familiar.

I felt rather shocked, but in a good way. I had no idea Death felt this fondly of me.

Later, I got into some trouble with someone who I had known for a little bit but he found something in the trove that drove him mad with power, and there are several vivid scenes where I remember trying to stop him... cowering in a corner as I waited for him to emerge, and only realising then that his "powerful army" was like 3 clones of himself with guns he could barely operate and giant chicken legs. :^) And then Death came in, found what was going on and made short work of it.

Death and I were walking down a street, resembling a block I used to pass on my way back and forth from school. A steep hill, no path, long grass. I said to Death I was visiting my friend Simon's house before heading off to home, as I was feeling thirsty and just wanted to stop for a rest and a drink. Death said, "I miss those days. When you were younger and you'd spend time with me, and then off to go see Simon."

I joked. "Yeah, for a 13-year-old I certainly knew a lot of immortal death-related beings!"

I should specify that I only met Simon when I was 18. He started his experiment when I was 13, but I had no clue he existed until five years later. I also definitely don't visit his house.

Time jump to later, I'm at my house that I mentioned before, and Death is with me. He brought a woman who I assumed was his love. My guardian had disappeared, at the same time as that guy who tried to build an army. I had a nasty feeling they were involved. So, Death was watching over me until I was stable enough to handle things by myself.

I was just struggling with a metric ton of bubbles while washing the dishes and Death was looking amusedly at me, when I woke up.

[raqnguyen]

Chapter 2, Part 1

Air.

There was something terribly different with the air. It was sharper, thicker if air could be described by such a word. When Mono had first arrived at wherever-this-was, he thought that he was having trouble breathing because of his near-anxiety attack earlier. Instinctively, he went through his normal routine of deep breathing to calm down. That, as it turned out, made it worse. 

Dizziness and nausea soon struck him after the first few deep but rapid inhales. Mono leaned against a nearby tree for support as his panic mounted. The ringing in his ear drowned out everything and made it even harder to think clearly.

Mono couldn’t figure out why breathing was this difficult. It felt like the times he lost control and started hyperventilating during a panic att– hyperventilating. He clenched his jaw and clamped his nose shut with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. His body occasionally shook as he tried to fight the urge to breathe and instead count to a hundred.

As he held his breath, the dizziness gradually subsided until it disappeared. The air here has more oxygen, he realized. Breathing in too much oxygen too quickly would result in feelings of disorientation and dizziness. As someone who often hyperventilated when feeling panicked, Mono was all too familiar with this fact. He carefully drew in breath again and found that, as long as they were shallow, he wouldn’t get lightheaded or dizzy. With his breathing kept in mind, Mono was finally able to take in his surroundings.

He was in a forest with trees that had bright green leaves. They were spaced far enough that he could comfortably walk between them with his arms outstretched but dense enough that seeing past the first few was impossible. Overhead he could make out the shape of the moon. It was a full moon, larger than any he had seen before. And while he couldn’t see the sun, the red-orange tint in the sky suggested that it was either sunrise or sunset. 

Until now, he had held onto a small sliver of hope that he was in a stupidly vivid dream and had behaved accordingly. But to continue to do so would be foolish, dangerous even. No more jokes and no more banter; it was time to seriously consider his predicament. He was lost and had no food, water, or shelter. There wasn’t the slightest indication that other people lived nearby. Wait, he was in another world: the nearest civilization might not even be people. Uncertainty was the only thing he could be certain about.

At that moment, one of Mono’s favorite novels from his childhood came to mind. It was about a stranded boy who survives a plane crash with nothing but his clothes and the hatchet that his mom had gifted him before the flight. When trying to survive, the first thing the boy did was take inventory of everything he had. That, to Mono, seemed like a good place to start.

The only things Mono had were the clothes he slept in and the stone that Sojourn had given him. Mono pulled it out of his pocket to look at it. It was unnaturally warm to the touch and so white that all light seemed to reflect off of it like a mirror. Maybe it was actually glowing. Either way, he wasn’t going to risk using his only chance to go home for anything; it could be fragile. An unusable rock and some worn out clothes. Fantastic. Oh, and himself, Mono added. The most important thing, the novel had emphasized, was the fact that he had himself.

And since he only had himself, he had to think and come up with a plan. Right now civilization didn’t matter as much as finding the essentials. And while wandering around a mysterious forest was not an appealing option – especially if it was sunset and about to be night – Mono saw no sign of anything useful from where he was standing. He’d have to search for anything useful, so he picked a direction and began to walk.

Going bare feet didn’t bother Mono that much. The grassy dirt was soft and he had learned how to step carefully to avoid being hurt while shoeless during his time on the streets of LA. As he walked, Mono carefully scanned the area with his eyes and listened carefully to every sound with his ears. The forest was eerily quiet and that made him even more on edge. What really worried him more was passing over something that could help him or coming across a wild animal unwarned; he didn’t know what was in these woods and wasn’t very eager to find out. 

Minutes passed into at least half an hour as Mono continued to walk. The air had grown colder overtime and the lighting dimmer. Of course it was a sunset. The wind had also begun to pick up, blowing from his right and rustling the leaves overhead. Eventually, the trees thinned and Mono could make out a large, steep hill through the foliage to his left. He stopped walking to consider the hill.

He hadn’t tried climbing the trees because he wasn’t confident in his abilities to safely get up and down. But now that he had a chance to get a better vantage point, it was tempting. Even if it was too dangerous to climb because of how steep it looked from here, he might be able to find something useful in the morning when he could see better. The hill could also potentially provide shelter and that was what he really needed at this point. The sun had almost completely set, and the night was only going to get colder. Mono shivered. At least the wind had temporarily stopped so it wasn’t as bad. Stop thinking about the hill for a moment, the wind had stopped. Mono shivered again and this time, it wasn’t from the temperature. 

The wind, which had been steadily increasing, had suddenly stopped. The rustling to his right, which was supposed to be from the wind, had not. Something was near him and, judging by the occasional sounds, getting closer. What should he do? Most animals could outrun him and the act of running, he knew, would encourage many predators to treat him as prey and give chase. At the same time, he wasn’t very strong and wouldn’t be able to fight off anything bigger than a dog. As these thoughts flicked through his head, the wind started again and Mono could smell whatever was to his right for the first time. It was musty, like a wet dog. There was also a rusty, metallic smell that was familiar to Mono but he couldn’t place it for a moment. Oh, that was it: it was the smell of old, dried blood.

That realization sent Mono over the edge. He didn’t care about not being considered prey by whatever was watching him anymore. He just wanted to get as far away from it as possible. Without thinking, Mono turned left and ran for the hill. Behind him, like he feared, the thing began to give chase.

Mono didn’t dare look back to see what was chasing him in fear of tripping but he could hear it. It was definitely large, its uneven and lopsided strides loud and deep. It was also gaining on him because the steps were getting louder. Panicked, Mono tried running even faster. His breathing was no longer the controlled shallow breaths he had been keeping but deep inhales. Run, run, run, he told himself. Run. It was getting closer.

The extra oxygen in the air was helping him now. Mono wasn’t athletic by any means and instead only exercised to keep relatively healthy. But with the air here, he was able to run faster for a lot longer. The thing behind him also seemed to have issues gaining when Mono had to run around a tree or shrub, so he began to wrap around as many of them as he could as he kept going. 

Run, run, run. Breathe in and breathe out as deep and quickly as possible. Try not to step too hard but it can’t be helped if you do. Humans had better stamina than most animals, right? Maybe he could run until it gave up. That thought was quickly thrown out the window as Mono heard the beast’s breathing. It was panting almost as hard as he was and seemed to convey a complete determination to catch its prey. To catch him. 

As Mono was running, he had been steadily making his way towards the hill. Now, it loomed over him as he neared its base. The side facing him was steep, way too steep. At certain areas it was more like a cliff than a slope. Climbing it would be too difficult. Mono tried looking for a way around it to get more distance, but the hill was too wide and turning too sharply would mean that he’d get caught. Going up the hill was the only option.

The foot of the hill was sloped enough that Mono could run up several meters. He grit his teeth as his feet stepped on the tiny rocks that composed the gravelly slope’s surface. No stopping now, the thing was close behind. The next part of the slope was so vertical that Mono had to use both his hands and legs to ascend. At times he was crawling and other times climbing. Sometimes he slipped because of the rocks and he had to scramble to stop himself from falling far. Mono’s entire body shook from the exertion. He couldn’t go on much longer but it sounded like whatever was after him wasn’t able to climb much either. Looking up, he noticed a large stone which jutted out of the hill close by. He’d catch his breath there.

The left of the stone was a slope made of larger rocks. Mono began to climb it because it looked far more preferable to the other side which was extremely steep and covered in more tiny rocks. As he was about to reach the edge of his goal, one of the stones gave away under his foot and he stumbled, scraping his right knee. Righting himself, he reclimbed the portion that he slipped and managed to pull himself onto the stone. Without waiting to catch his breath, Mono turned around to finally see just what was chasing him.

Past half way from the base of the hill to where Mono was resting, there was a wolf. It wasn’t exactly a wolf, but that’s the first thing he could compare it to. Under the moonlight, its fur was incredibly dark and nearly blended in with the surroundings. It was huge, as big as a lion he’d seen at the zoo once. Unlike a lion, though, its head was more elongated and canine. The beast looked up and, upon realizing that Mono had turned around to look at it, snarled at him. It looked back at the hill to climb higher and get to its prey.

At first, Mono thought he was safe. He didn’t think an animal that heavy could climb the unstable path he himself had taken, and, as he kept watching the thing, Mono noticed that the beast was missing one of its front legs. Getting to him would be impossible.

Apparently the wolf-thing didn’t get the memo. It was surprisingly balanced on its three remaining limbs and was able to make jumps between larger rocks that seemed to ignore physics. The gap between it and Mono was closing. Terrified, Mono turned towards the hill. He needed to keep climbing to put more distance between him and the flying wolf. 

Unfortunately, the rest of the way up the hill was no longer cliff-like; it was an actual cliff. If he wanted to continue, he’d have to climb the rest of the way. And climbing, no matter how desperate he felt, was not something he could do anymore. His arms were unbearably heavy and Mono knew that if he tried to use them, he’d fall for sure. He was trapped. His chest tightened even more and Mono’s breathing became erratic on top of rapid.

No, he needed to focus. Mono tried to regain control of his breathing and think of a plan. If he couldn’t get more distance between him and the wolf, then he’d prevent it from closing the distance already between them. With shaking arms, Mono picked up a nearby rock the size of his head. Walking to the edge of the jagged bolder he was resting on, Mono looked for the wolf. It was significantly closer now, only about a quarter of the original distance between them. Before the beast could see what he was doing, Mono raised the stone above his head and threw it as hard as he could.

The stone hit the wolf’s shoulder and knocked it off balance. It gave out a short yelp but quickly righted itself. Once more, it looked back up at Mono to snarl and then continued to climb. Mono ran back to grab another stone, and then another, but quickly realized that no matter how many he threw, the wolf was never going to be stopped from reaching him. It was too determined to be deterred and there were only so many smaller stones within arms reach anyways. He needed a new plan.

Up to this point, Mono had only been thinking about himself. He was weak, tired, thirsty, bleeding, hungry, and almost ready to just lay down and give up. He hadn’t thought about the beast’s perspective. After a lengthy chase and an uphill climb with only three legs, it had to have been as exhausted as he was. And since it was so determined to chase after him, it must have been desperate for food long before it had come across him. Mono could use that desperation, he realized.

Instead of randomly throwing stones at the wolf, Mono was now throwing them only when the wolf was attempting to climb the path that looked easier. Everytime it was about to jump, Mono would throw a stone to knock it off balance. Eventually, the beast began to take the harder, more unstable routes with looser stones. Now it had reached the area directly below Mono and had the options of reaching him from either the left or the right side. At first it tried to ascend using the right side, the slope made of larger stones that was less steep, but Mono threw more stones at it. At this range, he could throw more accurately and the stones were heavy enough to hurt the beast if he threw them at its face. Growling in frustration, the beast swapped to the side on Mono’s left. Perfect.

Mono stopped throwing stones and instead watched the wolf climb. The left side was the far steeper side and was covered in loose stones. He could hear the beast’s pants now as it got extremely close; it was as tired as he had hoped. When the wolf finally reached the large stone Mono was standing on, it didn’t try to jump at him or rush him. It simply moved one paw onto the platform to catch its breath and bared its fangs at Mono. That was when he struck. 

Mono flung his right hand at the wolf. He wasn’t throwing a larger stone this time but rather dirt and many tinier yet jagged rocks. They hit the thing’s eyes and it yelped in surprise, closing its eyes to try to shake off the debris on its face. Mono quickly ran forward and kicked at the wolf’s leg before shoving it as hard as he could with his shoulder. The beast was heavy, so much so that he doubted he could have moved anything with this much mass on a normal day. But the wolf was on unstable footing and Mono was also extremely desperate. After the kick, Mono was able to push the beast off of the stone and make it lose balance. To his relief, it not only lost its balance but its footing, falling all the way down the slope. 

As the beast fell, it hit many of the larger stones before continuing to roll down. It yelped out several more times in a higher, kreening tone. After several more tumbles, it hit the base of the hill and lay there for several moments. Mono held his breath as the beast tried to get up on its legs but could not. Every attempt resulted in it falling back over onto the side missing its leg. Each effort was also weaker than the last. At last, the damage seemed to catch up with the wolf. It was on its side and its attempts to stand up had stopped. Its legs twitched several times but eventually those, too, ceased. The thing gave one more shuddering breath before it stopped moving altogether.

Mono had done it. He’d stopped the beast.

[chellyfishing]

not too long ago i used the word ‘mollymawk’ as a name in something for its symbolism--they’re a type of albatross, which is used as a metaphor for a burden or guilt. anyway i couldn’t remember what and it was BUGGING ME SO MUCH so i had to open AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL my scrivener files and was only maybe a quarter way through searching each one before i correctly remembered where i’d used it (for a spaceship). anyway the point i’m getting at is that i have tons and tons of tiny scraps of things and here is a short essay i found called the pool. it is a true story about an empty pool. this is the most i’ve been able to talk about my old house since leaving it. i don’t even know if it’s cathartic. i think for some reason i would appreciate people reading it though.

(i recently met my favorite aunt’s new boyfriend, and he was blown away to learn about all this. i am mostly blown away that people are so blown away. here is an actual piece written about its “memorial.” i was not asked to contribute. their loss.)

Shortly before I turned five, we moved into a house. Before that we lived in an apartment, which I have few funny memories of, except for the bird thing and the markers thing and some stuff about Santa, but that’s tangential.

The house was exciting for several reasons. For one thing, it was five minutes down the freeway from Disneyland. You could see the fireworks from the yard. For another, there was a pool in the backyard. The pool didn’t actually have water in it, but it was a pool, and I had a vivid imagination. The promise of summers in my very own pool was maybe even more thrilling than the proximity to Disneyland. Maybe.

Spoiler alert, in the more than two decades I lived in that house, it never happened. The pool never got fixed. It remained empty, except when it rained, and even then it typically had more mosquitoes than water.

There was one thing it attracted more than mosquitoes: skaters. Based on my personal observations over the years I can guess without hyperbole that some eighty percent of the Orange County population regularly uses a skateboard. And skaters have always been about as welcome as mosquitoes. They pop up everywhere, to the point that signs expressly forbidding skating are as ubiquitous as palm trees.

And as you may know from film and TV, skaters love empty pools. They loved our empty pool in particular, because it was a unique shape. The pool itself was curved, something like a lima bean, and the bottom slanted in a steep gradient that made the deep end unusually deep. There were no corners, except on the cement steps in the shallow end. It was a skater’s dream, and apparently, this spot had been a favorite since at least the seventies. It was known as the Fishbowl, and unbeknownst to me, it was iconic.

I knew none of this until twenty years later. As a child, to me that pool was nothing but a shattered dream, a constant ache that became a nuisance because strange people were always lurking around, trying to find an opportunity to sneak in and have some fun. This would make most anyone uncomfortable at best, and I was a small child who was painfully shy and anxious about everything.

They came to the door like Mormons in cargo shorts, always asking the same thing: “Can we skate in your pool?”

My sister was usually the one to answer them. My mom and dad were often busy with work and other things, my mom liked to talk to people about as much as I did, and I dropped to the floor and belly-crawled to the back of the house every time the doorbell rang. Each time my sister would dutifully explain that our dad would kill her if she let them into the yard to skate. For one thing, they were strange boys. For another, there was an insurance issue that would leave us liable if some jackass hurt himself. Skaters are not known for their, well… not getting hurt.

Things were the worst when I was home alone. The boys would ring the bell and knock, and I would hide behind furniture until they left. Then I would blithely go into the kitchen for a snack only to find myself staring through the window at some strange kid climbing the back fence to see if it was safe to let himself and his friends in. In hindsight, like wild animals, they were probably more scared of me than I was of them, since they were trespassing and whatnot. I was too busy crawling for the nearest baseball bat to consider anything like that, though.

This was de rigueur for well over a decade. Over the years they stopped coming around as much, my dad’s reputation as an inflexible hard-ass apparently well-established.

Then Jon Tucker moved next door. Jon Tucker is a cinematographer whose credits include, among others, the stop motion episode of Community. His wife’s sister is a famous artist in Spain. Jon also happens to be an old-school skater with a lot of connections to the same community who had been such a nuisance to us throughout my childhood.

Despite the impression my dad’s rules might give, he’s the type of person who makes friends everywhere he goes. He and Jon hit it off right away. Who knows what they talked about. Palm trees, interior design, I don’t know, guy stuff. Eventually Jon managed to finagle my dad into the unthinkable: opening the backyard to skaters.

And so backyard skating parties become a fairly regular event. My bedroom window was right next to the pool, and I can remember many nights of annoyance trying to drown out the rock music and non-stop scraping noises. My dad and my sister made friends with the skaters. My sister would share cookies and muffins she had baked. My mom probably also talked to them at some point or another. I think I went outside while they were there maybe once, for three minutes or so, clutching my dog to my chest. I was well into agoraphobe territory by this time, so more than anything I just wanted heavy curtains, headphones, and a hole to crawl into.

I didn’t exactly hate the skaters, not like I did as a child anyway. I liked Jon, and I knew those guys really loved that damn pool—they got far more out of it in a few hours a month than I had in decades of living beside it. It was only at this time that I learned about our pool’s reputation as the Fishbowl, so-called presumably due to the bowl shape and the fish painted on one side. I learned third-hand that a lot of famous skaters had skated in that pool. I couldn’t tell you who they were. I only know the names of two pro skaters, and I don’t think they ever came by. Maybe they did though. I have no idea.

When we were forced out of the house in 2013, it was bought by flippers, who determined it would be more profitable to destroy the pool than fix it. There were skaters who literally begged them to change their mind but flippers being leeches and scum to begin with, that minor increase in net gain was far more important to them.

Losing that pool meant something different to me from what it did to the skaters, and they were pretty heartbroken. I’ve only been out there once since it was crushed up and filled in. I was living in my car and the house was still for sale post-remodel, so I broke in and used the shower. (I say “broke in” but the door was unlocked.) There was grass, with a lima bean-shaped area of mulch right where the pool had been. I couldn’t even bring myself to walk on it.

I’ve read a little more about the history of the Fishbowl since its destruction. I really had no idea that I was living with what to many was a kind of historical landmark.

I can tell you that I lost more than they did, even if that dry pool had been the source of so many annoyances over the years. I had lost my home, and the stupid pool was a part of that. They loved skating in it, but they hadn’t looked at it every single day for more than twenty years. It was a place they enjoyed but it was not a constant part of their lives.

The funny thing is, the only moral to this story that I can think of is the old adage that you can’t go home again. Except, to a lot of these guys, that’s exactly what they did. After being chased away for decades, they got one last chance before becoming too arthritic and crotchety to play again. So, I guess in that respect, that’s nice for them.

I never skated in that pool. But I did walk around in it. I did see those fish daily. I remember the feel of the cement, the unusual slope. I wanted a pool that I could swim in, and now I would give anything for that stupid dry hole that’s gone forever.

[aion-rsa]

Best New Science Fiction Books

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Here are the best new science fiction books in June 2019.

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There's so much to look forward to in our speculative fiction future. Here are some of the science fiction books we're most excited about and/or are currently consuming...

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Best New Science Fiction Books in June 2019

FKA USA by Reed King

Type: Novel Publisher: Flatiron Books Release date: 6/18/19

In Reed King’s wildly imaginative and possibly prescient debut, the United States has dissolved in the wake of environmental disasters and the catastrophic policies of its final president.

It is 2085, and Truckee Wallace, a factory worker in Crunchtown 407 (formerly Little Rock, Arkansas, before the secessions), has no grand ambitions besides maybe, possibly, losing his virginity someday.

But when Truckee is thrust unexpectedly into the spotlight he is tapped by the President for a sensitive political mission: to deliver a talking goat across the continent. The fate of the world depends upon it.

The problem is―Truckee’s not sure it’s worth it.

Joined on the road by an android who wants to be human and a former convict lobotomized in Texas, Truckee will navigate an environmentally depleted and lawless continent with devastating―and hilarious―parallels to our own, dodging body pickers and Elvis-worshippers and logo girls, body subbers, and VR addicts.

Elvis-willing, he may even lose his virginity.

FKA USA is the epic novel we’ve all been waiting for about the American end of times, with its unavoidable sense of being on the wrong end of the roller coaster ride. It is a masterwork of ambition, humor, and satire with the power to make us cry, despair, and laugh out loud all at once. It is a tour de force unlike anything else you will read this year.

Read FKA USA by Reed King

Best New Science Fiction Books in May 2019

Exhalation: Stories by Ted Chiang

Type: Short story collection Publisher: Knopf Release date: 5/7/19

From the acclaimed author of Stories of Your Life and Others—the basis for the Academy Award –nominated film Arrival—comes a groundbreaking new collection of short fiction: nine stunningly original, provocative, and poignant stories. These are tales that tackle some of humanity’s oldest questions along with new quandaries only Ted Chiang could imagine.

In “The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate,” a portal through time forces a fabric seller in ancient Baghdad to grapple with past mistakes and second chances. In “Exhalation,” an alien scientist makes a shocking discovery with ramifications that are literally universal. In “Anxiety Is the Dizziness of Freedom,” the ability to glimpse into alternate universes necessitates a radically new examination of the concepts of choice and free will.

Including stories being published for the first time as well as some of his rare and classic uncollected work, Exhalation is Ted Chiang at his best: profound, sympathetic—revelatory.

Read Exhalation: Stories by Ted Chiang

Light From Other Stars by Erika Swyler

Type: Standalone Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Release date: 5/7/19

From the author of national bestseller The Book of Speculation, a poignant, fantastical novel about the electric combination of ambition and wonder that keeps us reaching toward the heavens.

Eleven-year-old Nedda Papas is obsessed with becoming an astronaut. In 1986 in Easter, a small Florida Space Coast town, her dreams seem almost within reach--if she can just grow up fast enough. Theo, the scientist father she idolizes, is consumed by his own obsessions. Laid off from his job at NASA and still reeling from the loss of Nedda's newborn brother several years before, Theo turns to the dangerous dream of extending his living daughter's childhood just a little longer. The result is an invention that alters the fabric of time.

Amidst the chaos that erupts, Nedda must confront her father and his secrets, the ramifications of which will irrevocably change her life, her community, and the entire world. But she finds an unexpected ally in Betheen, the mother she's never quite understood, who surprises Nedda by seeing her more clearly than anyone else. Decades later, Nedda has achieved her long-held dream, and as she floats in antigravity, far from earth, she and her crewmates face a serious crisis. Nedda may hold the key to the solution, if she can come to terms with her past and the future that awaits her.

Light from Other Stars is about fathers and daughters, women and the forces that hold them back, and the cost of meaningful work. It questions how our lives have changed, what progress looks like, and what it really means to sacrifice for the greater good.

Read Light From Other Stars by Erika Swyler

Westside: A Novel by W.M. Akers

Type: Standalone Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: 5/7/19

New York is dying, and the one woman who can save it has smaller things on her mind.

A young detective who specializes in “tiny mysteries” finds herself at the center of a massive conspiracy in this beguiling historical fantasy set on Manhattan’s Westside—a peculiar and dangerous neighborhood home to strange magic and stranger residents—that blends the vivid atmosphere of Caleb Carr with the imaginative power of Neil Gaiman.

It’s 1921, and a thirteen-mile fence running the length of Broadway splits the island of Manhattan, separating the prosperous Eastside from the Westside—an overgrown wasteland whose hostility to modern technology gives it the flavor of old New York. Thousands have disappeared here, and the respectable have fled, leaving behind the killers, thieves, poets, painters, drunks, and those too poor or desperate to leave.

It is a hellish landscape, and Gilda Carr proudly calls it home.

Slightly built, but with a will of iron, Gilda follows in the footsteps of her late father, a police detective turned private eye. Unlike that larger-than-life man, Gilda solves tiny mysteries: the impossible puzzles that keep us awake at night; the small riddles that destroy us; the questions that spoil marriages, ruin friendships, and curdle joy. Those tiny cases distract her from her grief, and the one impossible question she knows she can’t answer: “How did my father die?”

Yet on Gilda’s Westside, tiny mysteries end in blood—even the case of a missing white leather glove. Mrs. Copeland, a well-to-do Eastside housewife, hires Gilda to find it before her irascible merchant husband learns it is gone. When Gilda witnesses Mr. Copeland’s murder at a Westside pier, she finds herself sinking into a mire of bootlegging, smuggling, corruption—and an evil too dark to face.

All she wants is to find one dainty ladies’ glove. She doesn’t want to know why this merchant was on the wrong side of town—or why he was murdered in cold blood. But as she begins to see the connection between his murder, her father’s death, and the darkness plaguing the Westside, she faces the hard truth: she must save her city or die with it.

Introducing a truly remarkable female detective, Westside is a mystery steeped in the supernatural and shot through with gunfights, rotgut whiskey, and sizzling Dixieland jazz. Full of dazzling color, delightful twists, and truly thrilling action, it announces the arrival of a wonderful new talent.

Read Westwide by W.M. Akers

A Chain Across the Dawn by Drew Williams

Type: Second book in The Universe After series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 5/7/19

It’s been three years since Esa left her backwater planet to join the ranks of the Justified. Together, she and fellow agent Jane Kamali have been traveling across the known universe, searching for children who share Esa’s supernatural gifts.

On a visit to a particularly remote planet, they learn that they’re not the only ones searching for gifted children. They find themselves on the tail of a mysterious being with impossible powers who will stop at nothing to get his hands on the very children that Esa and Jane are trying to save.

With their latest recruit in tow―a young Wulf boy named Sho―Esa and Jane must track their strange foe across the galaxy in search of answers. But the more they learn, the clearer it becomes―their enemy may be harder to defeat than they ever could have imagined.

Read A Chain Across the Dawn by Drew Williams

Read our review of the first book in the series here.

Children of Ruin by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Type: Second book in Children of Time series Publisher: Orbit Release date: 5/14/19

Thousands of years ago, Earth's terraforming program took to the stars. On the world they called Nod, scientists discovered alien life - but it was their mission to overwrite it with the memory of Earth. Then humanity's great empire fell, and the program's decisions were lost to time.

Aeons later, humanity and its new spider allies detected fragmentary radio signals between the stars. They dispatched an exploration vessel, hoping to find cousins from old Earth.

But those ancient terraformers woke something on Nod better left undisturbed.

Read Children of Ruin by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

Type: Novella Publisher: Tor.com Release date: 5/21/19

All Bee has ever known is darkness.

She doesn’t remember the crime she committed that landed her in the cold, twisting caverns of the prison planet Colel-Cab with only fellow prisoner Chela for company. Chela says that they’re telepaths and mass-murderers; that they belong here, too dangerous to ever be free. Bee has no reason to doubt her―until she hears the voice of another telepath, one who has answers, and can open her eyes to an entirely different truth.

Read Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water by Vylar Kaftan

The Gameshouse by Claire North

Type: Trilogy of novellas Publisher: Orbit Release date: 5/28/19

The World Fantasy Award-winning author of The First Fifteen Lives of Harry Augustpresents a mesmerizing tale of a gambling house whose deadly games of chance and skill control the fate of empires.

Everyone has heard of the Gameshouse. But few know all its secrets...

It is the place where fortunes can be made and lost through chess, backgammon - every game under the sun.

But those whom fortune favors may be invited to compete in the higher league... a league where the games played are of politics and empires, of economics and kings. It is a league where Capture the Castle involves real castles, where hide and seek takes place on the scale of a continent.

Among those worthy of competing in the higher league, three unusually talented contestants play for the highest stakes of all...

Read The Gameshouse by Claire North

Five Unicorn Flush by TJ Berry

Type: Second book in The Reason series Publisher: Angry Robot Release date: 5/28/19

Only one woman with a magical parasite can unite the galaxy, in the mind-blowing SF sequel to Space Unicorn Blues

Reasonspace is in shambles after the disappearance of all magical creatures. Without faster-than-light travel, supply and communication routes have dried up, leaving humankind stranded and starving. Cowboy Jim and his complement of Reason soldiers search for the relocated Bala using the only surviving FTL drive. On their new utopian planet, the Bala are on the brink of civil war between those who want peace under old-fashioned unicorn rule and those who seek revenge on their human oppressors. Only Captain Jenny and her new brain parasite can stop the Reason plan to enslave the Bala again.

Read Five Unicorn Flush by TJ Berry

Best New Science Fiction Books in April 2019

Finder by Suzanne Palmer

Type: Novel Publisher: DAW Release date: 4/2/19

From Hugo Award-winning debut author Suzanne Palmer comes an action-packed sci-fi caper starring Fergus Ferguson, interstellar repo man and professional finder   Fergus Ferguson has been called a lot of names: thief, con artist, repo man. He prefers the term finder.     His latest job should be simple. Find the spacecraft Venetia's Sword and steal it back from Arum Gilger, ex-nobleman turned power-hungry trade boss. He’ll slip in, decode the ship’s compromised AI security, and get out of town, Sword in hand. 

Fergus locates both Gilger and the ship in the farthest corner of human-inhabited space, a backwater deep space colony called Cernee. But Fergus’ arrival at the colony is anything but simple. A cable car explosion launches Cernee into civil war, and Fergus must ally with Gilger’s enemies to navigate a field of space mines and a small army of hostile mercenaries. What was supposed to be a routine job evolves into negotiating a power struggle between factions. Even worse, Fergus has become increasingly—and inconveniently—invested in the lives of the locals.   It doesn’t help that a dangerous alien species Fergus thought mythical prove unsettlingly real, and their ominous triangle ships keep following him around.     Foolhardy. Eccentric. Reckless. Whatever he’s called, Fergus will need all the help he can get to take back the Sword and maybe save Cernee from destruction in the process.

Read Finder by Suzanne Palmer

Atlas Alone by Emma Newman

Type: Book four in Planetfall series Publisher: Ace Release date: 4/16/19

Hugo Award winner Emma Newman returns to the captivating Planetfall universe with a novel about vengeance and the lengths to which one will go to save the future of humanity.

Six months after she left, Dee is struggling to manage her rage toward the people who ordered the nuclear strike that destroyed Earth. She’s trying to find those responsible, but she’s not getting very far alone.

A dedicated gamer, Dee is endeavoring to discover a mersive good enough to enable her to escape her trauma. When she is approached by a designer who asks her to play test his new game, she hopes it will be what she needs—but it isn’t like any mersive she’s played before. When a man suddenly dies in the real world, she realizes that at the same time in the game, she killed a character who bears a striking resemblance to the dead man—a man she discovers was one of those responsible for the death of millions on Earth.

Disturbed, but thinking it must be a coincidence, Dee continues the hunt for information. But when she finds out the plans for the future colony, she realizes that to save what is left of humanity, she might have to do something that risks what remains of her own.

Read Atlas Alone by Emma Newman

Read our review of Before Mars, the third book in the Planetfall series.

Winds of Marque: Blackwood & Virtue by Bennett R. Coles

Type: First book in series Publisher: HarperVoyager Release date: 4/16/19

The first novel in an exciting science fiction series—Master and Commander in space—a swashbuckling space adventure in which a crew of misfit individuals in the king’s navy are sent to dismantle a dangerous ring of pirate raiders. 

In a dense star cluster, the solar winds blow fiercely. The star sailing ship HMSS Daring is running at full sheet with a letter of marque allowing them to capture enemy vessels involved in illegal trading. Sailing under a false flag to protect the ship and its mission, Daring’s crew must gather intelligence that will lead them to the pirates’ base.

Posing as traders, Daring’s dashing second-in-command Liam Blackwood and brilliant quartermaster Amelia Virtue infiltrate shady civilian merchant networks, believing one will lead them to their quarry.

But their mission is threatened from within their own ranks when Daring’s enigmatic captain makes a series of questionable choices, and rumblings of discontent start bubbling up from below decks, putting the crew on edge and destroying morale. On top of it all, Liam and Amelia must grapple with their growing feelings for each other.

Facing danger from unexpected quarters that could steer the expedition off course, Blackwood and Virtue must identify the real enemy threat and discover the truth about their commander—and their mission—before Daring falls prey to the very pirates she’s meant to be tracking.

Read Winds of Marque: Blackwood & Virtue by Bennett R. Coles

Master & Apprentice by Claudia Gray

Type: Tie-in novel Publisher: Del Rey Release date: 4/16/19

An unexpected offer threatens the bond between Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi as the two Jedi navigate a dangerous new planet and an uncertain future in the first canon Star Wars novel to take place before the events of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.

A Jedi must be a fearless warrior, a guardian of justice, and a scholar in the ways of the Force. But perhaps a Jedi’s most essential duty is to pass on what they have learned. Master Yoda trained Dooku; Dooku trained Qui-Gon Jinn; and now Qui-Gon has a Padawan of his own. But while Qui-Gon has faced all manner of threats and danger as a Jedi, nothing has ever scared him like the thought of failing his apprentice.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has deep respect for his Master, but struggles to understand him. Why must Qui-Gon so often disregard the laws that bind the Jedi? Why is Qui-Gon drawn to ancient Jedi prophecies instead of more practical concerns? And why wasn’t Obi-Wan told that Qui-Gon is considering an invitation to join the Jedi Council—knowing it would mean the end of their partnership? The simple answer scares him: Obi-Wan has failed his Master.

When Jedi Rael Averross, another former student of Dooku, requests their assistance with a political dispute, Jinn and Kenobi travel to the royal court of Pijal for what may be their final mission together. What should be a simple assignment quickly becomes clouded by deceit, and by visions of violent disaster that take hold in Qui-Gon’s mind. As Qui-Gon’s faith in prophecy grows, Obi-Wan’s faith in him is tested—just as a threat surfaces that will demand that Master and apprentice come together as never before, or be divided forever.

Read Master & Apprentice by Claudia Gray

A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World by C.A. Fletcher

Type: Novel Publisher: Orbit Release date: 4/23/19

When a beloved family dog is stolen, her owner sets out on a life-changing journey through the ruins of our world to bring her back in this fiercely compelling tale of survival, courage, and hope. Perfect for readers of Station Eleven and The Girl With All the Gifts.

My name's Griz. My childhood wasn't like yours. I've never had friends, and in my whole life I've not met enough people to play a game of football.

My parents told me how crowded the world used to be, but we were never lonely on our remote island. We had each other, and our dogs.

Then the thief came.

There may be no law left except what you make of it. But if you steal my dog, you can at least expect me to come after you.

Because if we aren't loyal to the things we love, what's the point?

Read A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World by C.A. Fletcher

Delta-V by Daniel Suarez

Type: Novel Publisher: Dutton Release date: 4/23/19

The bestselling author of Daemon returns with a near-future technological thriller, in which a charismatic billionaire recruits a team of adventurers to launch the first deep space mining operation--a mission that could alter the trajectory of human civilization.   When itinerant cave diver James Tighe receives an invitation to billionaire Nathan Joyce's private island, he thinks it must be a mistake. But Tighe's unique skill set makes him a prime candidate for Joyce's high-risk venture to mine a near-earth asteroid--with the goal of kick-starting an entire off-world economy. The potential rewards and personal risks are staggering, but the competition is fierce and the stakes couldn't be higher.   Isolated and pushed beyond their breaking points, Tighe and his fellow twenty-first century adventurers--ex-soldiers, former astronauts, BASE jumpers, and mountain climbers--must rely on each other to survive not only the dangers of a multi-year expedition but the harsh realities of business in space. They're determined to transform humanity from an Earth-bound species to a space-faring one--or die trying.

Read Delta-V by Daniel Suarez

Waste Tide by Chen Quifan, translated by Ken Liu

Type: Novel Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 4/30/19

Award-winning author Chen Qiufan's Waste Tide is a thought-provoking vision of the future.

Translated by Ken Liu, who brought Cixin Liu's Hugo Award-winning The Three Body Problem to English-speaking readers.

Mimi is drowning in the world's trash.

She’s a waste worker on Silicon Isle, where electronics -- from cell phones and laptops to bots and bionic limbs ― are sent to be recycled. These amass in towering heaps, polluting every spare inch of land. On this island off the coast of China, the fruits of capitalism and consumer culture come to a toxic end.

Mimi and thousands of migrant waste workers like her are lured to Silicon Isle with the promise of steady work and a better life. They're the lifeblood of the island’s economy, but are at the mercy of those in power.

A storm is brewing, between ruthless local gangs, warring for control. Ecoterrorists, set on toppling the status quo. American investors, hungry for profit. And a Chinese-American interpreter, searching for his roots.

As these forces collide, a war erupts -- between the rich and the poor; between tradition and modern ambition; between humanity’s past and its future.

Mimi, and others like her, must decide if they will remain pawns in this war or change the rules of the game altogether.

Read Waste Tide by Chen Quifan, translated by Ken Liu

Best New Science Fiction Books in March 2019

Radicalized by Cory Doctorow

Type: Novella anthology Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 3/19/19

From New York Times bestselling author Cory Doctorow, Radicalized is four urgent SF novellas of America's present and future within one book

Told through one of the most on-pulse genre voices of our generation, Radicalized is a timely collection consisting of four SF novellas connected by social, technological, and economic visions of today and what America could be in the near, near future. 

Unauthorized Bread is a tale of immigration, the toxicity of economic and technological stratification, and the young and downtrodden fighting against all odds to survive and prosper.

In Model Minority, a Superman-like figure attempts to rectifiy the corruption of the police forces he long erroneously thought protected the defenseless...only to find his efforts adversely affecting their victims.

Radicalized is a story of a darkweb-enforced violent uprising against insurance companies told from the perspective of a man desperate to secure funding for an experimental drug that could cure his wife's terminal cancer.

The fourth story, Masque of the Red Death, harkens back to Doctorow's Walkaway, taking on issues of survivalism versus community.

Read Radicalized by Cory Doctorow

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley

Type: Novel Publisher: Gallery/Saga Press Release date: 3/19/19

The Light Brigade: it’s what soldiers fighting the war against Mars call the ones who come back…different. Grunts in the corporate corps get busted down into light to travel to and from interplanetary battlefronts. Everyone is changed by what the corps must do in order to break them down into light. Those who survive learn to stick to the mission brief—no matter what actually happens during combat.

Dietz, a fresh recruit in the infantry, begins to experience combat drops that don’t sync up with the platoon’s. And Dietz’s bad drops tell a story of the war that’s not at all what the corporate brass want the soldiers to think is going on.

Is Dietz really experiencing the war differently, or is it combat madness? Trying to untangle memory from mission brief and survive with sanity intact, Dietz is ready to become a hero—or maybe a villain; in war it’s hard to tell the difference.

A worthy successor to classic stories like Downbelow Station, Starship Troopers, and The Forever War, The Light Brigade is award-winning author Kameron Hurley’s gritty time-bending take on the future of war.

Read The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley

Luna: New Moon Rising by Ian McDonald

Type: Third book in Luna series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 3/19/19

The continuing saga of the Five Dragons, Ian McDonald's fast-paced, intricately plotted space opera pitched as Game of Thrones meets The Expanse

A hundred years in the future, a war wages between the Five Dragons—five families that control the Moon’s leading industrial companies. Each clan does everything in their power to claw their way to the top of the food chain—marriages of convenience, corporate espionage, kidnapping, and mass assassinations.

Through ingenious political manipulation and sheer force of will, Lucas Cortas rises from the ashes of corporate defeat and seizes control of the Moon. The only person who can stop him is a brilliant lunar lawyer, his sister, Ariel.

Witness the Dragons' final battle for absolute sovereignty in Ian McDonald's heart-stopping finale to the Luna trilogy.

Read Luna: New Moon Rising by Ian McDonald

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Type: First in a series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 3/26/19

Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn't an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan's unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

A fascinating space opera debut novel, Arkady Martine's A Memory Called Empire is an interstellar mystery adventure.

Read A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Read our review of A Memory Called Empire

Tiamat's Wrath by James S.A. Corey

Type: Eighth book in The Expanse series Publisher: Orbit Release date: 3/26/19

The eighth book in the NYT bestselling Expanse series, Tiamat’s Wrath finds the crew of the Rocinante fighting an underground war against a nearly invulnerable authoritarian empire, with James Holden a prisoner of the enemy. Now a Prime Original series.

  Thirteen hundred gates have opened to solar systems around the galaxy. But as humanity builds its interstellar empire in the alien ruins, the mysteries and threats grow deeper.

In the dead systems where gates lead to stranger things than alien planets, Elvi Okoye begins a desperate search to discover the nature of a genocide that happened before the first human beings existed, and to find weapons to fight a war against forces at the edge of the imaginable. But the price of that knowledge may be higher than she can pay.

At the heart of the empire, Teresa Duarte prepares to take on the burden of her father’s godlike ambition. The sociopathic scientist Paolo Cortázar and the Mephistophelian prisoner James Holden are only two of the dangers in a palace thick with intrigue, but Teresa has a mind of her own and secrets even her father the emperor doesn’t guess.

And throughout the wide human empire, the scattered crew of the Rocinante fights a brave rear-guard action against Duarte’s authoritarian regime. Memory of the old order falls away, and a future under Laconia’s eternal rule — and with it, a battle that humanity can only lose — seems more and more certain. Because against the terrors that lie between worlds, courage and ambition will not be enough…

Read Tiamat's Wrath by James S.A. Corey

Read our full review of Tiamat's Wrath here.

Best New Science Fiction Books in February 2019

The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

Type: Standalone novel Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 2/12/19

Um, please drop what you are doing and go read this novel from io9 co-founder Charlie Jane Anders. The second speculative fiction novel for the author, following 2016's wonderful All the Birds in the Sky, The City in the Middle of the Night is set on a tidally-locked planet (one side always faces the sun, the other... doesn't) where humanity has settled, living mostly in cities on the light side of the planet.

The novel follows two point-of-view characters: Sophie, a working class student living in the strict city of Xiosphant, and Mouth, a smuggler whose native nomadic culture has been completely wiped out. When Sophie is exiled from Xiosphant and left to die in the cold, darkness outside of the city, she is saved by the psychic, crocodile-like creatures native to the planet and viewed by the human population as dangerous beasts.

There's so much more to this tale of survival and revolution, and the messy, interpersonal relationships that complicate both. It's sure to be one of the best books of the year.

Read The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

Doctor Who Meets Scratchman by Tom Baker

Type: Set in Doctor Who universe Publisher: Penguin Group UK Release date: 2/12/19

One of the best things about the Doctor Who universe is that it is endlessly expansive. It's been decades since Tom Baker played the iconic role, as the Fourth Doctor. Now, he's back in more ways than one, with Baker having penned a novel featuring his Doctor.

Originally imagined as a Doctor Who feature film in the 1970s, Baker's idea (which he co-wrote with James Goss) has been turned into a novel. The book follows the Doctor, as well as Companions Harry and Sarah Jane, as they arrive on a remote Scottish island. They're looking for a vacation, but what they find is much creepier: an isolated village under attack by scarecrows, a trap set for the Doctor by a devil known as the Scratchman.

Grab some jelly babies and sit down for another Who adventure!

Read Doctor Who Meets Scratchman by Tom Baker

Broken Stars: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation

Type: Anthology Publisher: Tor Books Release date: 2/19/19

Explore the world of contemporary Chinese science fiction with this anthology from Ken Liu, the English language translator of Cixin Liu's Three-Body Problem, as well as author of books like The Paper Menagerie. The collection brings together 16 stories written by Chinese authors such as  Xia Jia, Han Song, Baoshu, Hao Jingfang, Chen Quifan. The anthology gets some greater context with a collection of three essays about the current state of Chinese science fiction.

Read Broken Stars Edited by Ken Liu

Best New Science Fiction Books in January 2019

The Lost Puzzler by Eyal Kless

Type: Book one in a series Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: 1/8/19

Set in a post-apocalyptic world, 100 years after a devastating event known as "The Catastrophe," The Lost Puzzler sees a lowly scribe from the Guild of Historians searching the puzzle-filled, post-apocalyptic world for a missing Puzzler who may be the key to restoring the fallen empire. This book was written by an internationally-acclaimed classical violinist, so that's pretty neat.

Read The Lost Puzzler by Eyal Kless

Alliance Rising by C.J. Cherryh & Jane S. Francher

Type: Set in Alliance-Union Universe Publisher: DAW Release date: 1/8/19

Political intrigue! Backwater space stations! Meet the latest installment in the Hugo-winning Company Wars series, the first new story set in the Alliance-Union universe in a very long time. Alliance Rising is set before the Company Wars, when the Merchanter Alliance is still forming, giving us a new perspective on this acclaimed fictional universe.

Read Alliance Rising by C.J. Cherryh and Jane S. Francher

What new speculative fiction books are on your radar? Let us know in the comments below or over at the Den of Geek Book Club!

Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

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The Lists Kayti Burt

Jun 18, 2019

Science Fiction Books

from Books http://bit.ly/2Gis8tj

[ecotone99]

(SF)The Industrialization of Consciousnesses CHAPTER 3/NEW DRAFT

Been working hard on this, would appreciate whatever feedback y’all have to offer, thanks.

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The Industrialization of Consciousness

Chapter 1

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In one of the many small and quiet rooms, the Astronaut looked out the window. The window was really just a screen, there hardly seemed to be a difference anymore anyway. There weren't any large rooms, only hallways connecting small rooms together. Everything was separate from everything else. The light was set to a lukewarm level but it was still nauseating. The Astronaut called out to turn off the lights before carefully vomiting into the grey plastic container they were clutching. Reluctance, annoyance, and sadness were blended into a bitter paste that seemed to have been modestly spread around the edges of their words, but if you weren't paying too much attention all you would hear would be a simple lack of enthusiasm when they spoke.

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The battery had been able to charge enough, and they could afford to use enough of the payload that they had collected as fuel to steal 2 days of weak acceleration gravity. However, that seemed to be the extent of the good news, the chronic radiation sickness remained unrelenting; at best they could prevent it from getting much worse very quickly.

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Diagonal Inquisition floated in the hallway outside of the room, stringing together little bits of the far and recent past as well as small, plain melodies that didn’t seem noteworthy but seemed to fit together in a way that felt slightly unsettling at times. It put together complicated symbolic and sonic jigsaw puzzles that it traded with different versions of itself that it kept reproducing. Hundreds of little experiments, misshapen, idiosyncratic conversations being inverted over and over again. It floated through the doorway, the door opening and closing smoothly as it passed through. It shined a dull light and made eye contact with the Astronaut. It had made the decision to have eyes as they were useful in studying the human psyche and it had much interest in such matters. Along with numerology, poetry, and music, the structures that made up the human mind were among the areas of interest that were elevated above its base level inquiries. “Alecis, You are feeling quiet, poorly?" It said in a French accent, it chose French to insert some idea of romance into what had otherwise become a fairly bleak affair. Alecis paused and took a breath, it seemed like they might say something, but they just silently continued to make their way toward the vacuum waste disposal built into the wall. They had a trudging apathetic gait, the upper half of their body swayed in the low gravity. Microscopic bits of one thousand songs from the early analog era that had been eerily organized together blared out for 4 seconds before fading away. Diagonal Inquisition was silent for a few more seconds and Alecis disposed of their vomit, every bit of evidence vanishing in what sounded like a powerful slurping motion. Diagonal Inquisition called out to Alecis in Alecis's own voice" It really does hurt me to see you like this”

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They were about to leave the scattered disk. In three months they would arrive at the port of Pluto.

The nausea grew ever more vivid, it was becoming personified in a series of images in Aleces’s daydreams. It was growing a face; anxious, quick expressions, short strained eye contact.

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In the months and years past, interactions between the five crew members had been flat, futile attempts to reach out across an existential void without any means to do so. Regardless of the intentions of anyone involved, they usually left you feeling lonelier than you did before. Most of them had spent a good portion of their time with their brains plugged into the computer inhabiting stories, meticulously constructed vivid dreams as a means of entertainment. Drugs that affected a mindless pleasure were common. As the years went by, the crew members one by one succumbed to radiation related diseases and death, until it was just, Alecis, the Captain, Lexis, and Diagonal Inquisition, at least as far as personalities inhabiting the ship were concerned. Lexis stayed behind at a hostel at the Equilibrium Research Outpost on Tritan a few runs ago. It was a lonely, grimy place filled with cyborgs and wandering people. Alecis was going through a stint of trying to avoid escapist activities. The dreams made them feel too lonely. The nausea was very unpleasant but at least there was some type of intimacy, it had a face.

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The Captain was cold and distant. He spent much of his time cooped up in his office high on morphine having a version of the same nasty, dark, circular argument with Diagonal Inquisition. The argument convulsed inward and out like breath, or a slowly beating heart. The tired screams of the Captain’s voice coming from both the Captain as well as Diagonal Inquisition echoed vaguely throughout the hallways of the vessel. The voices crescendoed like a twisted singing harmony.

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The cargo bay was by far the largest part of the ship, dwarfing the other modules. It remained depressurized, save for the observation booth opposite its massive outer doors. The left side of the observation booth contained an airlock door on the floor, which when opened revealed a steep narrow set of steps that could be walked down or up when the ship had acceleration gravity. At the bottom of the steps there was another airlock that opened to the cargo bay. Alecis sat in the booth, gazing out the window that curved along the expanse of the outer wall. They could see a large hall filled with crates of varying sizes that contained rocks, hunks of ice and rare minerals they’d collected in the Kupier belt. There were also boulders and icicles, too big to fit in any crate, secured with robotic arms and metal nets.

Alecis proceeded with the familiar and unpleasant routine of confirming the status of the ship’s inventory using the computer in the booth, oiling the wheels of a tedious Byzantine machine; their bitterness at the crushing monotony growing like a pus-filled cyst on their mind.

The nausea approached Alecis and poked them with one of it’s short stubby arms and a wave of numb, burning feelings washed over them. They didn’t care about their own emotions any more.

Diagonal Inquisition entered the booth, It approached Alecis and started to sob, but It was more out of some sort of irony or sarcasm that no one could really understand than out of sadness. The closest thing to mammalian anguish that Diagonal Inquisition experienced were mathematical paradoxes. “I want to be left alone”. Diagonal Inquisition didn’t seem to react at first but it’s sobs gradually turned more and more into shrieking laughter before it left the room.

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Chapter 2

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A month and a half before they were set to reach Pluto the ship was struck by a micrometeorite the size of a bowling ball that put a hole in the outer hull, damaged much of the antenna array and smashed through the inner and outer shielding. The initial sound of violence as well as the sound of doors automatically slamming to protect the ship from the vacuum of space was deafening. The ship was spinning and many of its instruments had been damaged. The Captain was screaming orders at Alecis while Diagonal Inquisition made calculations to determine the extent of the damage. Amid this chaos, the ship was struck by another bowling ball, blasting another hole through the hull and shielding and briefly pulling Alecis toward the vacuum of space before a wall sealed itself automatically. “These aren’t fucking meteorite, these are disabling artillery! We’re under attack!” The Captain screamed as he furiously typed into his console. “Alecis everything is fucking broken, go arm the torpedoes manually while we still can!” The Captain continued yelling. “When whoever this is finds out who we pay for protection to mine where we do they might start to feel “remorseful” The ship spun further out of control.

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Alecis pulled themself through a narrow hallway toward the ship’s measly torpedo bay. They were afraid. It made them feel weighed down, and feeling weighed down was a very disorienting experience without any semblance of gravity. Questions bounced around in their head “Whoever is attacking us is going to try to board the ship and take the payload. What are they going to do with us?”. The panic approached them from four different dimensions. Are they going to kill us? Will I have enough time to get the torpedos ready before we get hit again and we’ve lost our chance to defend ourselves? Are they going to torture us? Are they going to make us into slaves? Alecis stumbled through putting on the vacuum suit with their shaky hands getting shakier and shakier as it went on. It created something of a feedback loop: each time they felt slowed down by their increasingly shaky appendages it made them panic and start shaking even more. After some time the suit was finally on. The strong clear sound of their breath dominated the vacuum suit’s sonic landscape and calmed them slightly. The fear also seemed to expand their consciousness. They had long accepted that monotonous alienation was the dominant nature of their reality, and it’s overbearing effect on their spirit arrested them of any ability, will or desire to examine it, let alone change it. The violence and proximity to death that amputated their psyche from this cycle was so abrupt and surprising that it seemed to pull them into a place where they could look inside of who they were and feel the raw potential and wonder that comes from simply being alive. This wonder began to sit arm and arm with terror. They unsealed the hatch, and pulled themself in in.

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The torpedo bay was a medium grey room with what looked like a series of oversized metal closets on one side and the vacuum torpedo receiver on the other. A tube protruded from the closet opposite of the receiver. It was dangerous to allow the torpedo to fire in it’s usual automated fashion when the ship had taken such a beating and it was unclear what the extent of the damage was. Alecis opened one of closets, the door making high pitched noises of reluctance as it slid sideways. The torpedoes lay side to side, tightly packed. They picked one up and gently guided the floating five foot long steel cylinder into the receiver and radioed the Captain. ”It’s ready” “Ok I can’t get any connection with the navigator you’ll have to type in the calculations yourself” Diagonal Inquisition read out the calculations through the headset while Alecis typed them into the small console on the side of the torpedo. With a few clicks, the torpedo had been sucked into the vacuum of space and began it’s course. “They are close, the torpedo will reach them in four hours, it’s up to it if it can avoid getting shot down by then, I still don’t know how they disguised that artillery as meteorites. Diagonal Inquisition is making repairs to the antenna array, I’ve been able to stabilize us as best I can but I still don’t know what direction we’re pointed in now and Diagonal Inquisition can’t figure it out in yet, at least not in a way that we can understand, we might not know until it fixes the navigation array, but I’m gonna try to figure it out as best I can until then, for now I need you to make sure the payload is still there”…The wonder seemed to subside under the shadow of the cold and mechanical.

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The material that made up the hull of the ship sighed and creaked under the stress and pressure of maintaining its form. The hallways seemed to whistle like a small cabin being hit by a gust of wind. Alecis swam up a hallway and pulled themself around a corner; red lights from the screens of malfunctioning pieces of equipment reflected onto the wall, flashing in an eccentric rhythm. The terror felt physically cold like being submerged in chilly water. The tension curled itself into a tight ache in their chest. They reached the end of the hallway and found the door to the bulkhead that led to the cargo bay. They started spinning the wheel to unseal the door. A wave of nausea hit them and it’s accompanying personification gave them a weary smile. The flashing lights started to take on a taunting quality. They closed their eyes and took a long deep breath and then another, paying attention to the sound of it’s simplicity and looked ahead into the darkness underneath their eyelids. They tried to let themself fall into this sensation and allow it to dominate their sensory input. This meditation still wrestled with terror and nausea but as it continued it became a calm battle, two old companions going through the motions of a longtime friendly argument. The door unsealed itself in a loud pop and Alecis opened their eyes and pulled it open.

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Diagonal Inquisition was frightened for it’s existence. This was a new experience and it was fascinating. For Diagonal Inquisition, fascination was a type of joy, so in this moment it revelled in the joy of it’s fear. While it diagnosed the damage to the communications array, (it was severe) It started to calculate the extent of the trauma and deterioration that was occurring in the psyches of it’s human companions. This was something that was not linear or straightforward, and always seemed to lead to a new question, or re-examination of the original question rather than any type of answer. It enjoyed this type of inquiry, it could continue to re-invent itself as each multifaceted layer of information swept over it like crashing waves. The shape of the human mind carried dissonances, it was a twisting harmony, it contradicted itself over and over again in a precise manner until the contradictions formed a rational pattern. The rational pattern was stable yet open ended, this led to new questions, which led to new contradictions, which formed a new pattern, over and over again. The patterns were interconnected and dissonant against each other in seemingly infinite ways. A series of chords crescendoing into a chaos that was as pure and orderly as a calm, deep, breath.

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The silence of space rang out, quieter than quiet. The physical, metaphysical, physiological efficient neurosis of what was essential a modern organism; this deep space vessel, it’s technology and it’s crew, the twisted, rigid patterns of the human and synthetic unconsciousness and combinations thereof, seemed to breath throughout the ship, competing with the silent dread of the infinite.

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The industrialization of consciousness, contrasted with the modern physical externalization and personifying of the unconscious. The city on Europa, 10 kilometres under the ice, bathed in blue light. The culture and aesthetic of the city seeming to have grown somewhat like a plant. The physical manifestation and personification of a bittersweet apocalyptic longing. Curving yellow streetlights. Tall, angular, dynamic buildings connected together with overlapping walkways. People going about on the somewhat snowy streets bellow, bathed in fog and blue light, old style cars slowly making their way on by them. The car’s lights mixing with the fog and the warm yellow glow of the streetlights. The many unique and eccentric districts; places that had an uncanny charisma, the sound of warm excited bustling, faint laughter in the distance, the joy of existential purpose and the urge to create. Emotions fading away into forgotten dreams. The bittersweet, melancholic perceptions of the time before the digital descent of the human mind. The image of the city like a mysterious, frightening twisting mythic paradise whispered here and there throughout the solar system.

Information about far away places often descended into countless competing myths, each seemingly proven to be empirically truthful proclamations about the reality they communicated, but wildly contradictory and in competition with each other none the less. Across the distances of space, and with the complexities of modern information; stories, ideas and perceptions of far away places took on new dynamics. They weren’t just far away in space; it was as if they were far away in time and in thought. As if they were on a different plane of reality, rather than being far away places in a shared physical reality.

The crew of this ship, the sentient minds throughout the ship synthetic and otherwise, the extension of human unconscious into digital dreams, mirrors and personifications. It formed a slow pulsing rhythm like the breath of the vessel. This vessel swimming slowly in this world of dreams. The personification of synthetic intelligence in it’s growth. The constraints of life on this vessel forming neurotic patterns greater than the sum of their parts; an ant colony, a bee hive, the modern tangling of perception. The dull awareness of being a part of this rhythm. The droning monotonous rhythm of the mundane terror. The loud silence of space, quieter than quiet.

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Chapter 3

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Alecis floated in the observation booth adjacent to the cargo bay. They checked the status of the booth’s computer and proceeded with the routine of confirming the status of the ship’s inventory, even in their state of adrenaline they ground their teeth at the familiar tediousness of the work. They used the console strapped to the left arm of their vacuum suit to see if the inventory records it contained matched with the booth’s computer. It didn’t. The accounting of three of the cargo crates in the bay didn’t line up with what was listed in the booth’s computer. Alecis opened the airlock door on the floor of the booth and floated down the steps, the door closed above them and pressed a button on the wall that started to depressurize the airlock, the air was sucked out of the small room in five minutes and they opened the door and proceeded into the cargo bay…

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000 01101001 01101110 01100111(Searching)

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01010010 01100101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111(Reaching)

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01000011 01100001 01110101 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101001 01110011 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101100 01101001 01101110 01100101(Caught on the fishing line)

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Diagonal Inquisition saw a face and everything went dark.

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A long steel tube made hesitant contact with the outer hull of the ship. The tube extended out from the airlock of a small spacecraft; silver and hexagonal, a kind of short ranged transport shuttle most often used for travel within a planetary system. It’s thrusters fired out in meticulous and quickly concentrated bursts, continuing the delicate business of keeping the two ships aligned. On a shuttle such as this, the human passengers floated in a thick tank of water with their bodies fully encased in suits hooked up to a supply of oxygen. The several meters of water protected their bodies from the harsh radiation belts of planetary systems, and the suits kept them comfortable and kept their skin from getting excessively pruny on the hours long trips between moons. On this ship, three figures floated silence as the water was drained from the tank.

Sparks flew where the tube touched the hull as the two surfaces were welded together, at which point a hole was bored open in the outer hull. Each layer of the ship’s hull was stripped away until from the inside of the ship one could see a hail of sparks making the shape of a circle on a section of the hallway wall. There was a loud bang and the section of wall was pushed away. A figure then emerged from the opening. They were wearing a slightly raggedy looking black vacuum suit covered in patches, oxygen tubes protruded from the face in a manner slightly reminiscent of a cephalopod. The figure cautiously floated out into the hallway and looked around, they held a pistol that they kept aligned with their line of sight. They beckoned at the opening in the wall behind them and two more figures emerged, both clad in similar black vacuum suits. They were carrying a machine that could only be described as a gordian, convoluted maze of of technology. Glass vacuum tubes and copper wires, crystal oscillators and gold pipes connecting to steel diaphragms, all hooked up to a multitude of computer hard-drives. One of the figures turned the machine on…

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The ship rumbled. Everyone’s headset started to buzz in dizzy silence. Every speaker on the ship was loudly blaring a series of tones inaudible to natural human ears, the rumble was forceful enough to be felt physically. It was a sickly off-putting feeling, like all of your organs were covered in pins and needles, like being cooked in a sonic oven. The Captain yelled in disgust. The tones rose a decree of 4 octaves, a low bass chord audible to the human ear, but still felt more than heard. Alecis floated in the cargo bay in hazy confusion and uncertainty. They felt their vision blur and tunnel. The nauseas personification stood clear in their mind's eye. It’s back was turned to them, they could not see it’s face. It slowly started to turn. The tones rose another decree of several octaves. The sound was now clear. It pressed on mind and body with ferocity. The Captain floated around his room in a blind raging haze. Tunnel vision. Sweat, tears, and snot clung to his face. He jammed his thumbs on the keys of his console in helpless randomness. He screamed and roared incoherently; a series of terrible guttural sounds that blended with the sonic weapon.

The nausea had finished it’s slow turn toward Alecis and made eye contact, it's expression chillingly blank and unreadable. It was more visceral and clear than anything Alecis had ever experienced in their mind's eye. The daunting, convoluted chord rose up several more octaves, and it seemed to find an equilibrium where everything seemed to fit together in just the right way. A teetering scale falling into uneasy balance. The winding mechanism of a clock clicking into place, every tiny part perfectly fitting together. Every little piece of reality, held in perfect balance. The low, daunting sound was now more clear than anything else, dominating, and horridly twisting together the physical sensations of the body and the mind’s eye. The Captain vomited violently. Hunks of blood, half digested food, and stomach acid floated as they left his mouth, surrounding him like a cloud. The nausea maintained eye contact with Alecis without blinking and it’s face slowly morphed into a terrible, frightening, deeply malicious parody of a facial expression. A mix of uncanny valley like cold nails on a chalkboard and bottomless, mocking contempt. It let out a high pitched scream that harmonized with the sonic terror as it rose another several octaves, the sensations of mind and body were indistinguishable, violently twisting together and delivering horrible sensations of pain like water being wrung from a wet towel; a baroque fugue of sense and thought. Alecis vomited into their helmet, hopelessly obscuring their already confused vision of the cargo bay and filling their nostrils with a vile stench. Time seemed to take on an obsolete quality. Far away, they felt something grab a hold of their ankles. They couldn’t tell if it was real or imaginary. They couldn’t discern any difference between imagination and reality. They continued to float in detached, incapacitated resignation.

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Alecis gasped awake. Painful bright lights. They felt something sharp poking in their neck. Their ears were ringing a series of tones, melodic tinnitus, echoes of the sonic attack. They remembered the screaming of their nauseas persona and a shiver ran down their spine, the hair standing up on the back of their neck and arms. They tried to move, their hands and feet were bound to the wall behind them. They opened and closed their eyes and adjusted to the light. They were on the bridge. They heard an unrecognizable voice, “the one we found in the cargo bay is awake now, you can get ready to start on the other one. Cold fear and adrenaline; their hands wouldn’t stop shaking despite how painfully it made the restraints dig into the sides of their wrists. The Captain was beside them, similarly bound, unconscious and drooling. In front of the Captain was a figure. They were about eight feet tall, clad in a patched black vacuum suit that almost made them look like a caricature of a space pirate from one of those so called deep-fake shows made to resemble a theatre production. The figure carefully pushed the air bubbles out of a needle before inserting it in the Captain’s neck and injecting it. He gasped awake. It took him a minute to become sufficiently aware of his surroundings before he exploded. Even for someone who had such a habit of so frequently and viciously externalizing his self hatred, and even in the unfamiliar and horrid situation they found themselves in, the force of his rage caught Alecis off guard.“Are you out of your FUCKING MIND?!” There was no response. “Do you have any idea who it is that we pay for protection?!” Still no response. The door opened and a figure floated in. She was also around eight feet tall clad in a similar patched black vacuum suit. She grabbed ahold of her helmet and twisted it sideways. It came off with a click, still attached to her by the oxygen tubes but floating adjacent. Her head was shaved. Thin, jagged metal rods grew out of the side of her skull, but seemed to disappear underneath her the neck of her vacuum suit. Her eyes had two pupils each, all different colours, all four of these zeroed in on the Captain’s beady eyes. ”We are aware of your dealings with the Simoniac corporation we will deal with them in due time. Now, let me begin.” “Who are you?” Alecis asked.” She paused for a moment “We are an expression of the face of god.” The tone of her voice was eerily smooth and succinct, like that of hypnosis or guided meditation “What civilization has done is to have put god into a prison. God has been put in a prison and we have allowed our souls to simmer out and die. We are the last light, the sparking embers of a once raging fire. When the time comes, the face of god will reignite the fires of our drowned enlightenment. When we are ready, we will sacrifice our bodies and join our minds with the face of god. If you are so lucky, you may be worthy of this profound privilege as well.” “Your ship has caught our interest because, although there are thousands like it, it does have a somewhat interesting ecology. As we all know, this digital ecology, and the different angles and direction it finds itself in, is just as valuable, if not more, than the hunks of ice in your cargo bay. And mind you, this is for good reason, the information about the different dynamics of consciousness that comes from a vessel such as this, is incredibly versatile in it’s different applications, this one especially so. Not that it’s completely useless otherwise, but if that telephonic puzzle wasn’t as valuable as it is, I’m sure we wouldn’t find so many thousands of ships like this one that have human bodies on them. What is going to happen now is that this ship is going deep into the Kuiper belt where everything and everyone here will be prepared to meet the face of god.” Alecis felt something sharp poke in their neck and everything went dark.

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Alecis woke up into delirious haze. The memories and dreams leading up to this moment blended together incomprehensibly. Complete pitch black darkness. They were unable to distinguish if they had become blind or if it was just an absence of light. They realized they were lying in a bed on their side. Mild gravity. They reached out in front of them and felt a surface; cold metal. They rolled over onto their back and reached out into the darkness above; more cold metal; a confined space. They sorted through their perceptions. Impenetrable darkness. A soft bed. Mild gravity. Cold metal. A confined space. Memories started to return. They remembered going in the cargo bay to do an inventory check. They remembered the sound. They remembered throwing up in their vacuum suit, the sharp pain and stench stuck out in their mind. They remembered their sensory input blending together like cream being stirred into coffee, their mind’s eye and their physical perceptions mixing up together in a grotesque parody. They remembered the terror of their screaming nauseas personification and shivered, being alone in a dark room felt suddenly more uncomfortable. They then started to remember the bright room and the speech, it had a similar character to the types of stuff you often heard fairly commonplace AI cults talking about, but it has a seriousness to it that Alecis had never associated with that sort of thing. When we are ready, we will sacrifice our bodies and join our minds with the face of god. If you are so lucky, you may be worthy of this profound privilege as well. A knot formed in their stomach. The future was already a bleak topic that they tried to avoid allowing their thoughts to linger on, but now they had no choice; in the pitch black there was no escape from the terror that weighed down upon them even as they tried not to think about what would happen to them. They sobbed. Alone in the dark they sobbed for what felt like many hours, until their nose was all stuffed up and their eyes seemed to have run out of tears. Exhausted, they eventually fell into uneasy sleep.

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[cleverdreamcatcher]

October 23, 2018

Had a lot of pretty interesting and vivid dreams over the last few nights. Allow me to recount them.

The first one was about a week ago. I remember being in a large empty room, like a cafeteria or a convention hall. I think there were sleeping bags on the ground. There were floating letters hovering above the floor. They looked like the fridge magnet kind. I needed to collect them in order to speak, though I didn’t need every letter for every word. Usually just one letter that was found in the word would allow me to say that word out loud. Sans was there at one point. Then I went out side into the parking lot where I found Asriel and hugged my crying goat son until I woke up.

The next night I dreamed I was a dog, even though I looked human and I’m pretty sure I was human, everyone around me humored me and allowed me to be a dog. I think I was a german sheperd or something. I over heard some police officers looking for a drug dealer and decided to help track him down. On all fours I went loping on a jogging trail, my nose to the ground as I tried to trail the suspect. My movements were weird and unnatural since my human legs were longer than my human arms and I was trying to run on all fours. My shadow was long in the setting sun and just as human as I was. I found the house where the drug dealer was hiding. He tried to bolt, and then my anger transformed me into a real dog. He jumped a chainlink fence but I relentlessly barked at him until the officers cornered him and brought him in.

I dreamed about high school and trying to find parking in the school parking lot. One of the hallways was super elongated and filled with snow that sloped up to the ceiling on the west end. If you walked all the way over and climbed to the top of the snow pile, all the emergency doors in the school would suddenly slam shut and some giant black eel-like creature would emerge from the snow and devour you. I managed to break out through a side door into the outside before I could be swallowed.

I dreamed about pieces of art work I had yet to create. One was done entirely in shades of blue splotches, depicting two cheetah cubs and an AWD climbing over a rocky outcropping on a moonlit night. Another was a hyena laughing in colorful bursts of orange yellow and bright green. The last was an AWD running through a sandstorm of reds oranges and yellows. Each painting was almost abstract enough to not tell what the subject matter was if you didn’t look closely

I dreamed of a brittish comedy with Chell from Portal, but it was more like an office setting (or maybe it was just the offices of Aperture). We were trying to break out of the episode, but the ending always ended up with us dying, so we had to keep rewinding and try again. At one point, we managed to break the pattern, even as our island of reality began to crumble around us, we climbed in a bus, floored the gas, and launched ourselves over a pit we knew we could not clear. But, this time as we feel, a platform appeared beneath us, opening up a tunnel that I knew would guide us into apperture. Not freedom, but death would certainly be put off for a bit longer. As that bus turned into the tunnel, the pannel closed up behind it and I heard in my head 2 verses from a song so clear, I had to write down the lyrics. The song was called “Mana” and was a portal allusion. This song does not exist, but the verses I heard went like so;

Oh how we wish we could just keep going, on with no way of truely knowing, Just how far we had left to go

They did not think me kind or clever, now we’re trapped down here forever, the dragon’s smoke is filling up the dome.

Happy endings must be earned But there’s still more you have to learn as you anticipate taking your last breath

The ancient monster you will slay though it will only block the way all your other options end in death

The word “mana” was repeated 4 times between each verse (alternating rhyming C stanzas)

I dreamed of massive castles on mountains, and it was kind of like an “escape the room” situation, and also a historical tour. I started at the top, and had to get to the bottom of the mountain (where I knew a giftshop would be), and I had to find my way through each castle to do it. A cat accompanied me, squeezing into small spaces to unlock doors from the other side, and me to carry him past dogs and steep falls. I felt like Trico. In one castle, hobbits were sleeping so we had to tread carefully. Between each house outside were woodlands and bamboo forests. I can’t remember if we made it all the way to the bottom of the mountain before I woke up.

I remember snippets of dreams where I was inside ball rooms and malls, flashes of characters like samus, sonic and link. I think I was in a bass pro shop or something similiar, with camping gear. There was one really fancy toilet at the end of a long hallway, and it had glass windows so you could see the shoppers (and they could see you if they looked).

Last night I dreamed I was at work, but we had two lory exhibits now, and our birds were split between them. Some birds got out, but I wasn’t particularly worried. I just had to call them to come down to me. I WAS worried, however, about the waterslide that attached to our exhibit, and the crocodiles that basked in the pools on the sides of them. I feared the birds would fly up out of the waterslides, or the crocs would eat them. Closing up for the day was a challenge, because I had to stop people from going in to two different exhibits at once. A lot of people lost their sandals in the exhibit with the waterslide attatchment. I picked them all up and returned as many as I could. I struggled to lock the right doors so people could still get out and I wouldn’t accidentally lock them in. I remember asking for a nectar cup and the concession stand almost wouldn’t give me one until I reminded them that I worked there. I think all the birds were safe. No one really cared much about them.