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mayfjelds · 2 years ago

Note

Both sound very nice! But I think the first one appeals most to me!!!

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eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: the fact that eddie’s age doesn’t make sense is not my fault it’s the duffers! but since dubious aging kind of goes against my own personal morality, eddie and steve are the same age/year and reader is the same age/year as nancy and robin.

crashing on the wheeler’s basement couch shouldn’t have been as relaxing as it was, but, surprisingly, it was the best sleep you’ve gotten since this vecna shit started in the first place. no threats of your favorite little moody redhead getting possessed by the upside-down’s new big-bad, and you barely had to think about the fact that your old best friend was being framed for murder. well, at least until —

“henderson! henderson – fuck – i’ve got a problem here!”

you sighed and picked up the walkie that was buzzing on the coffee table. “eddie?” you asked, yawning into the receiver.

“yeah, yeah, shit.” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “i’m gonna need some back up over here.”

“what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up abruptly.

“i’m, like, 99% sure jason carver and his goons are here to gut me like a fish.” he said, his shallow breathing echoing loudly in the mic. “i saw some headlights and when they opened the doors i heard that shitty fucking wham! song–”

“shit.” you jumped up and quickly grabbed steve’s keys from the table, practically bulldozing yourself out the wheeler’s house.

“well, i dont know if they’re gonna gut me. maybe they’ll snap all my bones in half like a glowstick, or something.”

“eddie, calm down.” you said. “i’ll be there in 10, so just shut the hell up and stay low, okay?”

you took the silence as an affirmation and started the car.

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to absolutely no one’s surprise, eddie munson did not stay low.

and that’s precisely what ended up getting the two of you stranded at (the make-out rock). you both sat underneath the sledge of rock, soggy and breathless, from your swim in the lake. your ill-fitting t-shirt you stole from mike’s closet stuck to your chest like a hungry leech, and gave absolutely no insolation to the cool night air on your drenched skin. just as you were about to complain about the goosebumps travelling up your arms, you looked over at eddie, whose leather jacket and jean vest combo made the wetness look that much more uncomfortable.

“you should take your jackets off.” you told him. “those can’t be comfortable.”

he noticed your shivering and shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to you. “if you wanted my jacket you could’ve just asked.”

“i didn’t just want the jacket,” you said, throwing it onto your back. “although this feels better.”

he let out a quiet laugh and started fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“where did you get them?”

“huh?”

“the rings,” you pointed at them. “where’d you get them?”

“oh,” he said. “uh, mostly flea markets and shit.” he took off the silver pig’s head and showed it to you. “wayne got me this one for my 18th. he found it at a pawn shop i think.”

“they look cool.” you said. “adds to the whole, badass metal thing you’ve got going on.”

“thanks.” he snorted. “i decided to really throw myself into the look after i grew my hair out.”

“yeah,” you said. “i’m glad you did. you always wanted to look like ozzy osborne.”

he laughed. “it’s hard to look like ozzy with a buzzcut.”

“i’m sure you could’ve made it work.” you said. “hey, do you remember the time in 7th grade when we stole your dad’s weed and smoked it out of an apple?”

“oh, of course. we got so stoned we could barely move.” he said. “do you remember the time you dressed up like a fairy for my birthday party?”

“it was dungeons and dragons themed!”

“you wore glittery wings from the halloween store.”

“well, it’s not like you would help me pick out the costume!”

“that would’ve ruined the surprise,” he said.

“yeah, yeah.” you rolled your eyes. “you know, i’ve still got the crown you made me for it.”

his eyes widened. “seriously?” he asked. “how the hell is that still intact?”

“whenever it breaks i tape it back together,” you said.

“oh,” he said.

“is that surprising?” you laughed.

“a little.” he admitted. “kind of assumed you’d throw it away or something.”

“of course not.” you said. “that’s still, like, the sweetest thing someone’s ever given to me.”

“it’s made out of stotch tape and sticks i found in my backyard.” he deadpanned.

“but you made it for me,” you said. “and don’t sell yourself short, munson. you glued on this beautiful, big red jewel on it. it was like, the highlight of my 12 year-old life.”

“what’d do your friends say about it?” he asked.

“i don’t think they’ve seen it.” you said. “i keep it in a box under my bed.”

“ah,” he pursed his lips, “yeah, that’s about right.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“it means that it would’ve been weird for you, the monarch of hawkins high, to have satanic memorabilia on display.” he wiggled his fingers at the reference of his favorite board game.

“c’mon, eddie.” you said. “you know i’m not like that.”

“how am i supposed to know?” he asked. “we were friends in middle school before you got all hot and cool and then we… weren’t.”

“well, it’s not like you made an effort to talk to me.” you defended.

he laughed. “yeah, ‘cause me walking over to the popular table with kids like jason carver – who is literally trying to kill me right now, might i add – would’ve turned out peachy keen.”

“you’re… probably right.” you sighed, putting your face in your hands. “fuck, i’m sorry eddie. i should’ve done something–”

“woah, slow down.” he said, pulling your hands away. “i don’t blame you, like at all. i didn’t expect you to stand up for me just because we were friends when we were 12.”

“doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucked up of me not to.” you said. “i just… wanted to be liked so bad, i just kinda… forgot who i was. like, one day i woke up and became totally unrecognizable.” you laughed. “and then this whole upside-down shit happened, and i thought if i started filling up all my time with football games and parties then no one would be able to tell that i was so… not normal.”

“high school’s the fuckin’ worst. being popular and shit seems like it’s life or death but nothing matters once we’re out of it.” he said, pulling his long hair between his fingers. “but, if it’s worth anything, i’ve always liked you.”

you snorted. “seriously?”

“yeah.” he nodded. “always.”

“i kind of thought you hated me,” you admitted.

“i kind of thought the same thing.”

“never.” you shook your head. “even when you’re standing on the lunch tables i always think you’re cool. way cooler than me, or jason, or harrington.”

his cheeks flushed at your words, he hid it with a tamed smirk. “wow,” he said. “the town freak being cooler than the basketball and swim team captain? you better hold off before my ego gets even bigger.”

“you’ve got more guts than carver for sure. standing up for what you believe in even when you know people are gonna shit on you? that’s cooler than throwing balls into laundry baskets.”

he laughed. “glad you appreciated that one, i was sitting on it for a while.”

you smiled, looking over at his big brown eyes for the first time that night. despite the fact that his hair was still drenched, and his once white baseball tee was now a dingy brown color, he still wore this charm that made him look permanently alluring. you don’t know if it was the shit you’ve just gone through, the heavy conversation, or the old crush you used to have on him resurfacing for the first time in 6 years, but you couldn’t help but melt in his sweet gaze.

“you think – ya’ know, once this vecna shit’s all over – i could, maybe, come over sometime?”

“you asking me to hang out?”

“yeah, i,” you faltered. “i kinda miss hanging out and smoking with you.”

he grinned, teeth and everything. “i’d love that.”

“that means you can’t die on me, alright?” you said. “no more dumb decisions.”

“i think i can manage that.”

#wc:1.4k #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years ago

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5. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” For rowaelin, Aelin finding out she’s pregnant. It can be an au, or in their actual world. Thanks so much!

/AN: Thanks so much for the prompt, anon! This got away from me! I’m sorry? But not really, I had fun with it, even though I don’t feel like it’s my best. I’d never really thought I would write canon/post canon but here we are...enjoy my dears

It hadn’t even occurred to Aelin that anything could go wrong with the day. It was after all ten years since the war had ended. Ten years since there was even the smallest promise of peace in her home. Ten years.

It was supposed to be glorious.

Kneeling over the toilet Aelin emptied the contents of her stomach, again, and did her best to even out her breathing. If there was anything less glorious to be doing--this certainly was it.

Her Fae enhanced ears caught the sound of footsteps coming toward her. Lorcan. Quick and efficient. Grabbing a hand towel, Aelin wiped her mouth and stood. She made sure her dress was fit properly and left the bathroom. The last person she wanted seeing her so weak and vulnerable was Lord Lorcan Lochan.

Granted she could just use his full title on him and call it even.

“Aelin?” Lorcan called from the front door of her chambers.

“Come in,” she replied. She used her magic to take away the cent of vomit, but she didn’t know if it actually did anything because Lorcan’s nose twitched as he entered. “What?’

“Darrow said that it’s time,” Lorcan said. He eyed her with a frown. His dark eyes were intent and unyielding. Even after all this time she still wasn’t quite used to his silent calculations, the information he seemed to glean from a room with ease and efficiency. Aelin was suddenly grateful he had become so smitten with Elide that he’d changed his life completely. Even if he was an ass.

“As if we haven’t rehearsed this enough,” Aelin muttered. Her stomach rolled again. Damn nerves. She was a queen and had been doing quite well at it thank-you very much. There was no reason for her to feel so ill and anxious at the thought of the festivities tomorrow.

“Are you all right?” Lorcan asked. His frown deepened as he looked her over. “You don’t look well. Have you eaten today?”

“You sound like Rowan,” Aelin grumbled. She went to her armoire and found the ring Rowan had given her one year after their secret nuptials. The familiar weight on her finger, settled her somewhat. “I’m not hungry either, let's get this over with.”

She didn’t add the fact that just the thought of eating made her want to crawl back into bed. And she would be able to do just that in forty-eight hours.

The elaborate ceremony was slated to take place tomorrow evening, the exact day when the war finally ended. Apparently Aelin needed to practice walking down a straight line to the balcony that overlooked the castle courtyard. After she addressed her people she would then unveil a sculpture. She’d asked Rowan to commission the sculpture so she had no idea what it would be of, but she had to trust the buzzard to take well to the task.

When Darrow finally relented that they’d done enough preparation for the following day, Aelin excused herself to her private quarters. Lorcan following after.

“Don’t you have a wife and baby to go and se?” Aelin called over her shoulder.

“Yes, but their not as high-maintenance as you, so I think it’s alright if I’m a little late,” Lorcan replied.

When Aelin shot a glare over her shoulder at him she caught a brief smile on his lips.

She had a response perched on her lips but something else snared her attention. It was a familiar scent of pine and snow and home. Her mate.

Before explaining anything to Lorcan she sprinted the rest of the way to her rooms, flinging the doors open.

Standing in the center of her room was the one person she had been desperate to lay eyes on these past few weeks. Her husband had been travelling, preparing the outlying villages for the celebration, and bringing the commissioned statue back to Terrasan.

“Fireheart,” he said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

Aelin didn’t wait before throwing herself at him, burrowing her face in his shoulder.

Chuckling Rowan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

“I missed you,” she whispered. She looked up at him and giggled when he started peppering her face with kisses.

“And I you, my heart,” he said before finally pressing a long kiss to her lips. He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against her, his beautiful eyes staring right into her soul.

Aelin could have stood their for hours, days, millennia. Just this brief exchange could make up for her nausea from this morning and her anxiety about the coming day.

“I asked for our meal to be delivered here,” Rowan told her, “Elide and Lorcan will take care of the festivities for tonight.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Lord Lorcan Lochan agreed to that.”

“It took bribery,” Rowan admitted.

Aelin threw her head back and laughed before leaning up on her toes to kiss her mate. She slanted her mouth eagerly over his, grateful to have him back with her. Despite the promises they’d made to each other years ago about never being apart, things had come up in their kingdom, in their world.

Rowan ran his hands down Aelin’s sides, nipping at her bottom lip.

By the time their food had arrived from the kitchen, they were free of several layers of clothing and warm with lust.

Sun was barely setting behind the mountains, casting pink and gold rays across the sky. It was this time of day that Aelin loved most. The simple beauty of the sky was enough to remind her how far they’d come.

Rowan sat across from her telling a story about the mess he and Fenrys had gotten into while trekking across the mountains just days before. Even in their other forms, they’d somehow managed to not only start an avalanche of late spring snow, but get holed up in a snow cave.

Aelin smiled as she pushed food across her plate. Her appetite hadn’t come back all day and she was swimming with nausea again, not matter how much of her own magic she tried to apply to herself. She needed to send a message to Yrene for a remedy.

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “You haven’t even touched your food, what’s going on?”

She looked up and shrugged. “You’re far too entertaining for your own good King.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Scoffing, Aelin cut a piece of venison just to appease him. She brought it to her lips and gave him a pointed stare, but before she could take a bite the scent of the cooked meat and spices ausulted her nose and she was up and running to the restroom before she knew what had happened.

She emptied the scant amount of food in her belly and sank back onto her knees only to find herself leaning against Rowan’s chest. One of his hand was curled in her hair to keep it pulled back while the other rested on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

His warm breath brushed against her ear. “Are you alright?”

Aelin nodded and let herself melt into her mate. “I haven’t been feeling well all day,” she admitted.

Rowan raised a hand to her forehead, her cheeks, feeling for a fever. He grunted.

“I’m fine,” Aelin insisted. She made to pull away from him but he kept her close.

“You’ve been flaring your magic lately,” he said.

“Because I’m exhausted. Planning this celebration has take too much out of me,” she said. She hated to sound the way she did, but between the vomiting and the fears about tomorrow she really didn’t feel too guilty about it. “Besides it’s probably just my--”

Aelin froze.

Her cycle.

How long had it been? Since settling into her Fae form the bleedings hadn’t come as often but they were brutal. She couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been. Three months? She couldn’t be pregnant. After all this time of trying and hoping. After losing the last pregnancy.

Aelin twisted in Rowan’s arms. He looked utterly confused as to what was going on. Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell? Of course...she had been using her magic so often to keep her going throughout the day that perhaps it was masking the scent.

Tentatively, Aelin dropped the shield she’d been putting up over herself. As soon as she did, Rowan’s gaze sharpened.

“Aelin,” he whispered.

Her gaze dropped to her stomach, nothing looked different. But the more she thought about it, the more her mind flooded with emotion and she settled one hand over her belly.

Rowan dipped his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, his teeth nipping her skin gently. Aelin shivered at the contact and forced herself to look at her mate once more. She twisted enough so she could draw his chin up and look into his eyes as they knelt together.

Emotion laced Rowan’s eyes and told her all that she needed to know.

She let out a weak laugh as tears slipped down her cheeks. Rowan was quick to catch them with his lips before pressing a soft, tender kiss to each corner of her mouth.

“I’m pregnant,” Aelin said, needing to hear the words out loud.

“You’re pregnant,” Rowan confirmed.

Throwing her arms around her mate, Aelin didn’t hold back her sobs. This was beyond anything she could have ever imagined for herself. After the hell her life had been, right up until she’d met Rowan. Her grip tightened around him. He had been her saving grace. Always and forever.

She pulled back enough to look into his eyes and wipe away his own tears.

“To whatever end,” she said.

“To whatever end.”

The statue that was unveiled the next day was simple. And yet it was no less glorious. Commissioned from a woman in a small country Aelin had visited many times now. The statue was of two women, their faces blank so as to allow the viewer to see themselves there. One of the women was carved to be wearing a fine dress that flowed behind her. The other held two swords.

Two princesses, two queens, one war won.

The country of Eyllwe, Aelin decided, had a way of bringing her home.

As always thanks for reading!

tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

#aelin and rowan #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass #answered #prompts #throne of glass fanfiction #kingdom of ash #post-canon #aelin galathynius

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anistarrose · 4 years ago

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hello, my love (ao3)

a slightly late @taznovembercelebration fic for the day 19 prompt “established relationship,” albeit in possibly the least conventional sense of the phrase. in other words, this is the culmination of a lot of Blupjeans feelings I couldn’t not write about any longer

It — it feels wrong to say I’ll miss you, but —

No, I get it. It’s gonna be so fucking weird, and I — I know it won’t last forever —

Okay, I — I can’t do it like this. Not if we make it sad. Lup, I love you so much, you know you’re the light of my life and undeath…

Of course, babe.

…and I’ll see you soon.

The world Barry wakes up in is tinted green, obscuring everything besides a few ill-defined silhouettes. His limbs are numb at first, but as… red sparks? run down his arms, the feeling returns as a strange sort of weightless sensation, like he’s floating beneath the surface of a lake.

A few bubbles escape from his nose, and oh shit, he really is submerged in something. Before he can even wonder which way is up, his hand grazes something that immediately tears away — and with it drains out the mystery green liquid, which he’s just going to pretend is water. He staggers onto the floor of a cave, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the light. It’s definitely a cave; he can feel the cool air on his skin and the bare rock beneath his feet — so why is it so bright?

The answer arrives in the form of a voice, whose owner becomes a little more visible to him with each blink of his eyes.

“Care for a towel? Actually, I’m giving you one whether you want it or not, ‘cause if you die of hypothermic shock after everything we’ve gone through to get here, that’s just gonna be awkward.”

She’s beautiful, he knows before he can truly see evidence of the fact. There’s so much care in her voice that her joke can’t disguise, and the towel she slings over Barry’s shoulders is warm, but not as warm as her hands. This feels like the correct moment to freak out over being, as far as Barry can tell, completely buck naked aside from the generous towel gift — but instead, his attention is captivated by his companion, who in complete contrast to himself, seems to be more clothes than body as she comes into focus.

It doesn’t feel right to say she’s wearing her red robe — it’s more like she embodies it, as it moves subtly to indicate her posture, her emotions, rather than to conceal them. What little of her that isn’t a robe is ablaze, but not violently — if Barry only had one word to describe her, he would simply say warm.

Her eyes are negative space amidst the flames, darkness where one would expect unbridled light, but there’s nothing sinister about them — more of a fascination, if anything, evident as she locks her gaze with Barry’s.

He’s been staring, hasn’t he? And she’s been staring at him.

He expects the sheer embarrassment of this whole situation to catch up to him any second, but it just doesn’t hit him. There’s nothing uncomfortable about sharing the room with her.

“Hi,” he says, giving a little wave. “I don’t know how I got here, but… I like your robe.”

She bursts into laughter, illuminating the cave in an ever-changing pattern of red, orange, and pink — and Barry can’t help but wonder if there are a few tears in the mix too, given how hard it is to tell on a face made out of fire.

“Oh, babe. Oh, Barry. Of course you would.” She brings a spectral finger to Barry’s face, evaporating a droplet of water with a single touch, but the warmth that rushes to Barry’s cheeks has nothing to do with the temperature of her hands, only her touch itself. “Sit tight for a second, babe. I’m gonna grab something you’ll like.”

Babe? He’s paralyzed for a few seconds, the word echoing in his head as she floats across the room, sifting through piles of scrolls, jeans, and miscellaneous other items that couldn’t be further from naturally occurring in caves. Does she know me? Does she like me?

He’s finished drying himself off by the time she returns, holding a second red robe — and a corporeal one, no less. She drapes it over Barry’s shoulders, and he slips his arms into the sleeves without thinking twice.

It’s cozy, but something about looking down at himself wearing it brings a fuzziness to his mind that’s not nearly as comfortable as the fuzziness of the fabric. He focuses his gaze on the ghostly woman instead — who makes his mind turn to static in her own right, but in a way that’s more than balanced out by the joy of just looking at her.

“See, we both look good in red,” she says with a wink, and Barry feels the temperature of his face rise another degree or two. He’ll wind up on fire like she is, at this rate. “You’ll want to sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Um, I think… I might be just a tiny bit amnesiac? Like, just a little. ‘Cause I know who I am, but you sound like you know me, and I don’t know you.”

He takes a deep breath, and decides there’s no harm in admitting what she’s surely already noticed. He’s been too confused to try and be subtle. “Also, I definitely just fell in love with you a couple orders of magnitude faster than I thought I’d ever fall in love with anyone, so that’s, uh… cool, but weird?”

The lower half of her face brushes his forehead — not quite solid, but not unpleasant — and he realizes just as soon as it’s over that it must’ve been a ghostly kiss.

“We were gonna ease you into the ‘us being in love and you losing your memories’ thing,” she tells him with a chuckle, and Barry’s too giddy to even wonder what she means by we. “Lay out the groundwork first. We should’ve known better.”

“My bad?” Barry blurts out, and that makes her laugh even harder, until embers are dripping from her eyes like glistening teardrops.

“Oh my god. This must — this must be so much for you, babe, so much to take in. How are you doing it? How are you — taking this so in-stride, and still sounding so much like you, I mean?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t know,” Barry admits. It is so much to take in, and he knows that if he’d woken up here all alone, with no idea how he’d arrived, then he’d be a mess by now — and not the hopeless romantic kind. As it is, he’s holding it together, trying not to think about his headache and taking comfort in the more pleasant of realizations — but he’s still adrift and disoriented, clinging to a figure he can’t remember his reason for trusting. “It — it doesn’t quite feel real, to be honest? Like, I — I believe you, I believe that I loved you — but it’s the forgetting that gets me…”

He can see himself falling in love, but he can’t see himself falling in this kind of love quickly. This soaring feeling in his heart could only be propelled by years of incremental intimacy, years that he can remember none of, years that don’t exist according to the static roaring inside his head. “How could I forget all this?”

She hugs him in a way unlike any hug he can remember, overlapping with the space he occupies until he’s engulfed in gentle flames, and the threads of her robe feel like they’re what’s doing the hugging, having reformed and rewoven themselves around his arms. Not knowing how else to embrace her back, Barry wraps his arms around his own chest, and feels her presence grow warmer still.

He can just barely wrap his mind around the thought that the warmth coming from his own chest might be borne of subconscious familiarity.

“You still have a big obvious head-over-heels crush on me, don’tcha?” she teases, her laughter surrounding him. “Nothing can make you forget that.”

“Yeah, every version of me’s a hopeless romantic. We’ve got that,” Barry admits. “But I — I don’t even remember your name —”

He would know it if he heard it, he’s sure; it’s so close to the tip of his tongue that he’d probably blurt it out instinctively, if only he didn’t always think so hard about his words before saying them. It’s so tantalizingly close, and he wants to know it again, to say it again, more than any other favor the universe could grant him, and doesn’t the universe owe him at least this much —

“Well, I know how to fix that.” She withdraws from the hug, remaining at his side. “And I think it’ll help if you hear it from yourself — if you hear all the truth we can give you, that is.”

She extends a hand, and a simple golden coin flies across the room to land in her palm. It’s embossed with a vaguely familiar rune that Barry can’t translate, but his mind really starts to reel when she places the coin in his hand, and he hears his own voice emanate from it:

Your name is Barry Bluejeans. You are afraid of the dark. Your very favorite thing in the world is swimming in very cold water on a very hot day, but you cannot remember who taught you to swim, or why you’re always so much more scared of the dark at the end of the year.

The beautiful undead woman next to you is named Lup, and as much as it pains you to realize, you have forgotten her, too. There are fundamental truths about the world, about your loved ones, and about yourself that you have been blocked from comprehending — you’ve had more stolen from you than you realize, and there are very few ways to undo it.

Barry, I’m you just moments ago, and I’m about to forget so much. But right now, I remember, and Lup can help you remember too.

Another voice joins the recording — Lup herself, who sounds just slightly different than she has today, just a little less burdened.

If you haven’t guessed from how this nerd talks about me — Her words are punctuated by an affectionate grumble from Barry — we’ve been dating longer than you can imagine. I wish we could just —

You also can’t remember that Lup’s as much of a nerd as you are, Barry, his past self interrupts. You met because you were both nerds.

Oh, come on, you’ll still be smart enough to figure that one out by yourself! But like I was saying, we had a hell of an epic love story I wish we could just tell you — but you wouldn’t be able to understand much of it, and you’d get a headache trying.

So, Barry adds, we thought about what would be the next best thing. And I think we got a pretty good idea.

A classical music piece fades in, beginning with a piano but quickly adding a violin. Barry can’t put a title or a context to the tune, but he recognizes it from the first note and starts tearing up by the third. His fingers tap out a pattern in sync with the piano part before he even realizes they’re doing it, and when he closes his eyes to let the music wash over him, he realizes that the Lup of the present, the Lup at his side, is almost imperceptibly humming along with the violin.

“You’ll remember this again,” she promises, choking up, when the tune eventually fades. “One day.”

Already, the music has stirred ghosts of memories, fleeting emotions, that Barry can almost imagine in context — quiet moments, private conversations that no one could rip away from him because no one else but Lup ever knew they’d happened — and that day feels close, reassuringly so.

Like him falling for Lup again, it feels like an inevitability.

#taz #taz balance #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup taaco #taz balance spoilers #taz november celebration #taznc #rosalia writes fic

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alliterative-albatross · 4 years ago

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My dear, your reblog about Boromir death just broke my heart a little bit more 😭 gotta watch Lotr again !

Let me sink the arrows a little deeper.

Boromir, son of Denethor was a whole-ass man.

Often Boromir is compared to his father in contrast to Faramir, but he’s actually described as being like Denethor in “face and pride, but little else.” That right there tells you a lot about his character.

He grew up on Sauron’s back porch, at the end of the decline of Gondor, with a younger brother who idolized him and a father who was slowly spiraling into severe mental illness. As the oldest son of the steward, Boromir has a lot to live up to and not much to work with.

Gondor had been circling the drain for 1000 years. Not only was there the looming threat of Sauron - obviously significant - but there’s the decline of the men of the west to consider, too. Since the fall of Numenor, each generation of men had grown successively weaker, their lifespans and wisdom diminished. Add to that the rise of Mordor: the corruption of Minas Ithil (Minas Morgul), the orcs running around killing people, the fall of Rohan and the treason of Orthanc, plus the back-and-forth taking and retaking of Osgiliath... well, Boromir is a man with a lot to worry about.

Then there’s the personal problems. A dead mom and an ailing, asshole father. A sweet little brother to protect (remember that Faramir really cared nothing for battles and weapons, so of course Boromir, being the Big Brother/Badass Warrior that he was, would worry over him). A city on the edge of ruin, a people on the edge of war they cannot hope to fight, an army of actual monsters living at your doorstep. Boromir’s entire world is literally falling apart at the seams. This is a man who is utterly without hope, a man with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

Talk about pressure, am I right?

So, let’s hit on Osgiliath a little bit. It’s not made clear in the films, but Osgiliath is actually the capital city of Gondor. It’s also a major tactical stronghold - he who controls Osgiliath controls passage across the river Anduin. As Captain of the White Tower, Boromir spent pretty much his entire adult life defending this city from constant attack - at one point, he and Faramir held the west side, and Mordor held the east side, and they battled for the bridge in the middle. Like, for months, I think (you may want to fact check my timelines on this, though, because I am too lazy). I’m pretty sure he and Faramir eventually just said “fuck it” and collapsed the bridge behind them (if we can’t have it then you can’t either, Sauron, please go suck a giant cock) and ended up swimming to safety with maybe just a couple of other dudes? Not many.

So. Boromir the Protector. Boromir the Warrior.

Now, Boromir the Captain. His soldiers loved him - they looked for him daily when he was gone. He was a good leader and a good man. He was missed, and he was mourned. Even Eomer mentions him fondly, saying that he was a lot like a man of Rohan. High praise, if you ask me.

Now, let’s talk about Boromir the Big Brother.

It is made clear time and time again, in both the books and the films, that even though Boromir may not have understood Faramir, he loved him. Boromir is described as his brother’s defender and protector. He defends Faramir physically in battle man times, and also emotionally, from Denethor the Dickhead.

In the books, Boromir and Faramir both dream of Imlardis and Isildur’s Bane, but it’s Boromir who volunteers to take the journey to Rivendell, solely to protect his brother from the dangerous journey.

And it is dangerous. At one point, he loses his horse crossing a ford - which means he lost most of his supplies, too. He had to walk to Rivendell with the clothes on his back. It took him nearly four months.

Now, I kind of think this is a huge sacrifice. I mean, Boromir who cared nothing for lore or culture, volunteering to leave his men and take on a journey to Rivendell to see some elves about a dream? It smacks of desperation, sure, which Boromir obviously felt in spades. But also, I think displays that no-hold-barred, sacrificial kind of love that he held for Faramir. Boromir would do literally anything to keep his baby bro safe.

Boromir’s relationship with the hobbits is special, too. One of my favorite moments in The Fellowship of the Ring is Boromir teaching Merry and Pippin to spar, which is why I chose the gif up top. Just, all of the Feels, am I right?

This isn’t the only time Boromir acts in the interests of the hobbits, though. Upon crossing Caradhras, it was Boromir who was wise enough to suggest the Fellowship carry firewood with them. This foresight single-handedly saved the lives of the hobbits; they would have frozen otherwise. The next day, Boromir and Aragorn carried them down the mountain.

So, Boromir was a good guy. He was brave, noble, kind, wise in his own way. He had a good head for strategy, and he could kick some serious ass on a battlefield (I didn’t talk too much about that one because I thought it was kind of obvious).

Now, to address the elephant in the room (or, the ring around the halfling’s neck? too much?)

Remember that the One Ring preys on our vulnerabilities. I think film!Gandalf said it most succinctly: “I would use this ring for the desire to do good, but through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”

Boromir’s greatest desire is to protect what he loves - his brother, his men, and more broadly, his city and its legacy. Tactically, his argument to return to Minas Tirith and strike out from a position of strength is a sound one: rest up, make a plan, defeat Sauron at the front door, restore Gondor to her former glory. It makes sense. Remember that this is a man who has made a study of military history - he’s not an idiot by any means. But the Ring corrupted this noble desire until all Boromir could think about was this driving need to get the Ring to Gondor.

Boromir’s story, more than absolutely anybody’s - yeah, even Smeagol’s - illustrates the dangers of the One Ring. The corruption of Boromir wasn’t inevitable, it was unthinkable. This was a good and noble man. He was a badass warrior, a friend, a brother. Boromir’s death proves that nobody is above the power of the Ring. His loss is a fucking tragedy, both to the Fellowship and to his people.

tl;dr: Boromir is one of my very favorite characters in all of the Tolkien pantheon, he doesn’t get near enough credit, and I mourn his passing just like those White Tower bros.

#boromir #the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #don't mind me i'm just all up in my feels over here #also babe don't mind my sarcasm it's purely a tone choice and i mean nothing by it #i love you big #BOROMIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR #sean bean is a babe #thank you for sending this ask because i got to strap on my sword and stand on my soapbox and defend my boiii #could shout about this precious man forever and ever #let's do gandalf next i love him too #lol jk jk

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

1. Siren Indruck NSFW, Duck is hauling supplies for the small town of Kepler on a tiny boat. Due to dangerous storms, Duck takes a longer but safer and less traversed route. He doesn’t know he’ll be passing through a Siren’s territory. A siren who is looking for a strong and sturdy mate

Here you go!

Duck never tells anyone what he finds on the beach that day.

He’s fourteen, looking for useful flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the sand by an ongoing storm. What he finds is an empty boat and a merman, silvery tail impaled with a spear in a piece of driftwood. Each time he tries to free himself, he winces and is unable to pull the weapon from his body. When he sees Duck, his red eyes widen and he bares sharp teeth in a hiss.

“It’s okay” the boy kneels in the bloody sand, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Or, uh, this’ll hurt for a sec, but it’ll be better than tryin to ease it out bit by bit.” He grabs the end of the fishing spear and pulls. The merman shrieks, quickly clamping his hands across his mouth as Duck pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to bandage the wound.

“There, you should be able to-”

The creature is gone with a whip of his tail, sliding down the sand and into the waves. As Duck stands, a strange song floats from the foam for the briefest instant. A seasoned sailor can tell a siren from a normal mer on sight; Duck has never been to sea. It’s weeks later that he wonders what events resulted in the wounded siren and an empty boat.

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

Any other day, Duck would put off this run until the black clouds no longer hung over the horizon. But the supply run last week didn’t come, so the isolated, coastal town of Kepler is running low on, among other things, the medicine needed to treat an illness spreading from house to house. He could put this off until tomorrow, but he won’t sleep well tonight if he does.

The boat loaded, he starts out to sea under unfriendly skies. Today is a day to follow the coastline and then circle Greenbriar Island to reach Kepler, rather than trying for a straight shot. It’ll double his travel time, but it’s far safer in a storm and no one but a few locals know how to navigate it. Duck takes this route once or twice most years. This summer alone he’s had to take it six times, with today making a seventh. The abnormal number of storms weighs on the minds of coastal residents. Duck tries not to obsess over it, given that it’s solidly out of his control and there’s no use fussing over wind and rain; there’s only getting through them.

Halfway through his journey, a rogue swell catches the underside of the boat and drags it along a rock, springing a leak in the hull. He ties off on a thin spire of stone, clambering onto a rock to try and repair the damage. It’s not a big leak, but it’ll be trouble if he lets it go.

As he’s laying awkwardly with water lapping up his legs, a human head rises from the water a few feet from him. Silver hair, red eyes and, when it smiles, very sharp teeth. Harmless mermaids have teeth much like his own, which means he’s alone in the ocean with a fucking siren.

Duck’s learned many things since that day on the beach; how a song can paralyze a man better than poison, how the bite marks on the skin of certain bodies that wash ashore are called siren kisses

The siren begins swimming closer. Duck sighs, “If you’re gonna drown and eat me, can you do it on the way back?”

Red eyes blink, confused, but the siren stays where he is.

“If I don’t make it to Kepler, lotta folks’ll get sick, some will even die. And I don’t think you got much use for medicine and canned food.”

The siren shakes his head.

“Glad you understand.” Duck finishes his repairs under watchful eyes. At one point, the siren swims all the way to the rock Duck is perched on, resting his chin on his hands, as if enjoying the view.

Duck scrambles back into the boat the moment he’s done, but no cold fingers try for his ankles and no splash announces something lunging upwards after him. A cautious glance as he starts the engine finds the siren sitting on the rock, silver-blue tail still half in the water. When he notices Duck looking, he waves.

The rest of the journey goes as planned, the relief on folks faces when Duck docks worth the peril. When he reaches the siren’s territory on his return, no song tempts him. A lithe shape keeps pace with the boat, fin breaking the surface now and then. When he hits open water, the siren turns back, disappearing from view.

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

There are sex dreams, and then there’s whatever the fuck Duck is having right now. Fingers stroke his hair, cling to his shoulders. Kisses coat his face and a voice whispers his name as the speaker offers themself to him again and again. He sees himself tangled with a man, face always just out of focus, who spreads his legs and lips so Duck can sink himself into the heat of his body. The dream is endless and he doesn’t care, doesn’t ever want to wake up.

Saltwater in his lungs renders that desire useless. He snaps back to consciousness as another wave hits him; he’s up to his neck�� in the cove below his house.

“The fuck?” It’s only his footprints visible in the moonlight in the sand, so no one dumped him here.

“Oh dear.”

“Jesus!” Duck stumbles back as glowing eyes peer around a rock. It’s the siren from yesterday, swimming purposefully as Duck wades backwards.

“Look, uh, when I said I wanted you to wait to eat me, I wasn’t bein serious. Or, uh, I was, but I meant I didn’t want to be eaten ever, not just then. It was a, uh, a joke.”

“I am aware.” The siren stops as Duck topples on his ass in the shallow water, “and I am sorry. I, ah, I did not mean to lure you from your bed. I was not aware my mindless singing was enough to wake you. In most futures, you slept until dawn.”

“Uh huh, sure, because sirens are known to just serenade folks without wanting to drown ‘em.”

“We do it more often than you might think.” The siren sighs, “I came here to keep you safe, and succeeded only in making you afraid.”

Duck, having scooted inelegantly onto dry land, watches the tan upper body of the siren sag. It’s awkward, a word not associated with this kind of mer. That suggests he’s telling the truth.

“You gonna tell me why you’re playin watchdog at my house?”

The siren chirps, intrigued, “In all but one future you told me to go away.”

“That’d just leave me with more questions. And so far, you ain’t done anythin other’n watch me; if you say this was an accident, I’m willin to hear you out.”

“Wonderful!” The siren claps his hands together and the tip of his tail flips out of the water. Then he clears his throat and recites, “I am known as Indrid Cold. As you noticed, I am a siren. I am also a gifted seer, artist, and lifeguard when humans are unconscious and thus will not try to kill me for rescuing them. I am an excellent fisher, and well-liked and/or feared by the larger creatures of this coastline. This is why I think I would be an excellent mate.”

“O-kay. Did you call me out here to practice your personals ad?” Duck smirks, charmed by Indrids earnest tone.

“This is not practice. I did a great deal of that earlier today. This is my formal declaration that I would very much like you to be my mate.”

“Ma--hold on.” The images from his near-fatal dream return, “were you singin’ to hit on me?”

Indrid crosses his arms, “For the last time, that song was not for you. It was about you, because I was daydreaming and my formless melody unintentionally conveyed the contents of said daydream into your mind.”

“So everythin in it, all that wild fuckin stuff, that’s stuff you wanna do with me?”

A nod, accompanied by a flash of white light under the water.

“Why?”

“Because you are strong, and handsome, and capable on the water. I watched your futures yesterday and today and saw you are kind as well, well-liked by other humans but a little lonely at night. You are very nice to that small land-otter that lives in your house.”

“You mean the cat?”

“That’s the word! Yes, you are nice to your cat. You are not brash or cruel, and you look so very nice without a shirt. I...I like you, Duck. You are everything I want in a mate.”

“Feel like I might be missin’ some gills and fins.” He jokes to cover the fact he’s scanning his mind and body for the same dreamy lull he felt during the song. What he finds in it’s place is his ego purring from praise and wondering exactly what a siren would do for his mate.

“There is no rule that says I must choose only my own kind for such activities. I, ah, I know it is strange, given how little we know of each other, but I thought that, ah, since humans will have casual sex with each other maybe we could, or, ah, that is…” He’s watching Duck with such unconcealed hope that the human almost joins him in the water.

“Indrid, I’m real flattered. But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t point out this feels like a fuckin trap. Pretty easy for you to drag me to my death once we’re, uh, in the middle of things. Not that I’m sayin you would.” He adds when the sirens smile dims.

“A sensible concern. May I join you on land for a moment? There is something I want to show you.”

Duck pats the sand beside him, eyes following the ripples of Indrid’s tail as he swims, slithers, and slides onto the beach. It reminds Duck of an oarfish, though when Indrid spies him looking the scales flash deep purple.

“Look there” Indrid points toward the end of the silver ribbon of scales; a round, white scar stares up at Duck. The details of a day over two decades in the past return to him.

“You’re the siren I found when I was a kid.”

“Indeed. I remember you by your eyes, though your face has some echoes of that day in it’s curves. You saved my life, showed me mercy when I expected none. Sirens do not forget a favor, and we do not kill those who once spared us. I will never harm you, even if you turn me away tonight. You will be safe, whether that is in my arms or merely in my territory.”

Duck avoids the stranger sides of life by the sea, citing a lifelong incompatibility with the weird. Turns out all he needed to find his exception to that rule is a handsome siren looking at him like he set the tides in motion.

The human runs a finger up the sirens tail, sparks of purple and pale blue light igniting in it’s wake.

“Didn’t know y’all changed colors.” He pets Indrid’s hip and the whole tail lights up this time.

“I am a deep-sea siren by birth, we use light to communicate emotions.”

“Mind, uh, loopin me in on the conversation?”

“Purple means desire. It’s a common color in mating displays.” Indrid watches Duck’s hand glide along his scales, and a burst of pale blue reflects across their faces.

“And that one?”

“Submission.” Indrid murmurs, “it is, ah, not the most desirable color to show. My kind value strength and power; enjoying the opposite is an invitation to mockery.” The siren’s eyes stay downcast, even when Duck smooths silver hair from his face.

“Now, I like to joke as much as the next fella, but that don’t seem like somethin to tease about.”

“No?” Indrid’s gaze flicks onto Duck the instant before the man straddles him. Duck doesn’t even have to push him onto his back; he goes instantly, hands flat on the sand and tail twitching excitedly in the shallows.

“No. Seems to me a sweet thing like you oughta be takin care of.”

Indrid snickers, “That is not usually an adjective one uses for meAHahnn” he arches as Duck tugs his hair.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar; I decide what you get called. I wanna call you the most perfect creature in the sea, I will. And if I wanna call you a needy little mer who’s good for nothin but gettin fucked into the sand, you’re gonna nod and say ‘yes.’ Understood?”

The blue light flashing up his tail brightens, “Y-yes but, but why do you call me sugar? That is a food.”

Duck giggles, leans down to brush their noses together, “It’s a nickname, call you it because you’re sweet and I can’t wait to get my fill of you.”

“Ohhhh, I see.”

“You wanna see somethin else?”

“Very much soOH, oh goodness.” Indrid gasps as Duck forces his gaze towards his cock attempting to free itself from his boxers. He grinds on the supple muscle of his tail to take the pressure off, chuckles when the siren whines and tries to kiss his chest.

“Since you’re the only siren I’d ever even consider fuckin-” Duck pauses as Indrid moans loudly, digging his fingers into the sand, “you gotta show me how to go about it.”

“If, if you just continue as you are a little higher upyes, yes right there” He rolls his hips, purrs with such a blissful expression that Duck is powerless to do anything but kiss him. His affection grows when he notices Indrid clearly restraining his kisses so as not to catch Duck’s mouth or tongue with his sharp teeth. The last guy he fucked shoved his tongue down his throat without any build-up or finesse, and now all he can think is if only Indrid had made his feelings know sooner, Duck could have done away with shitty human dates and had an obedient, eager mer instead.

“Mmmmm” Indrid licks his lips, runs his fingers up Duck’s sides, “kissing is nice. It is not something sirens often indulge in, so my chances to do it are few and far between.”

“Ain’t that a shame” Duck kisses the corners of his mouth, “lips like these were made to be kissed sore.”

Indrid purrs, wiggling his tail, and Duck looks down to see a slit opening where his clothed cock has been rubbing.

“Huh. Kinda figured you had-”

“-I have both this and an appendage below it much like your own.”

“Handy.” Duck, in no mood to climb off the purring, otherworldly man, eases the waistband of his damp boxers just under his balls.

“This, uh, this ain’t gonna actually create a, I mean, I don’t wanna accidentally-”

“Nono, there is no chance of procreation”

“And you’ll be okay with so little of you in the water?”

“Yesyes I will be fine.” Indrid tugs at his hips, bucks his own into the air in frustration.

“Just checkin’ oh, oh fuck” Indrid is tight and ridged around his dick as it slides in, “fuckin christ, no wonder sailors’ll crash into rocks at the offerin of fuckin a siren, wait, fuck, that was probably rude.”

“I will let it slide” Indrid teases, the end of his tail curling around Duck’s left ankle, “on account of your body is so lovely I would beach myself and die gasping on your doorstep for a chance to touch it.”

“No need for that. All you gotta do is wait here like a good little mer and I’ll fuck you as much as you want.” The slit pulses as Duck slowly fucks in and out, and he knows he’ll have to throw out all his fleshlights after this because nothing will ever compare to the deliciously alien feeling of Indrid around his dick.

“Do, do not joke about such things.” Indrid whimpers, clinging to his shoulders.

“I ain’t. You wanted a mate, right?”

“Yes, you, so very badly.”

“Well, you got one, and you feel so goddamn good on my cock I ain’t inclined to let you swim off and be someone else’s.”

“I do not want to, I only want you, please, please let me stay.”

Duck stills his hims and the siren writhes as he leans down. The human cups his cheek, “I want you to stay, ‘Drid. I wanna get to know you. Long as you promise you ain’t gonna fuck me unless you want to, and not because you’re scared I’ll turn you loose.”

“I promise.” Indrid initiates the kiss this time, purring when Duck takes his time kissing back.

“Good. Now that we got that cleared up” Duck sits up, “be a good mate and take what I give you.” He fucks in as hard as he dares, dives back down to kiss Indrid’s lips and throat as the mer’s cock emerges. Duck finds he can grind his ass along the twisting shaft at the same time he drives his own into Indrid’s body, resulting in a wail of pleasure and teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Indrid squeaks, hiding his face in Duck’s neck, “it, it is a reflex-”

Duck yanks his head back to his shoulder, near the first mark, and holds it down, “Do it again.”

Indrid trills and pain lights up Duck’s body, the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure coursing through him with each roll of their bodies. The siren chirps and moans, nips his arms and ears, slides his tail along his legs as his cock pumps frantically against his ass.

“That’s it sweet thing, cum for me while I fuck you. Show me just what my mate is for.” Duck bites Indrid’s neck and cum splatters the backs of his thighs as Indrid’s repetitions of his name drown out the noise of the waves. Duck’s orgasm follows fast, sweeps through him like the crescendo of a song carried on the night air.

Duck stays buried in him well after he’s finished, mind already conjuring images of tying Indrid down in shallow water and keeping his cock warm all day.

“Duck?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“I, ah, I need to get back in the water.”

“Oh shit, yeah, sure.” He pulls out, tosses his sea-soaked boxers up the beach as Indrid slides into the sea. Duck wades in, stopping where it’s waist deep as the siren swims lazily circles around him.

“Such a perfect mate.”

“Glad you still think so.”

Indrid curls up to him, rubbing their cheeks together, “Thank you for indulging me. Do...do you wish me to come back tomorrow? Or to stay tonight? There are no other mers between here and my territory, so there is no reason I cannot count this stretch as mine.”

Duck kisses one of the hickeys blooming on tan skin, “How’s about you stay the night. We got some things to talk about. And, if you’re real good, I might let you fuck me when we’re done.”

Indrid grins, “My dearest one, I believe we have a deal.”

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

Nowadays, if you ever go near Kepler and the surrounding islands, you may hear people talk about Duck Newton, beloved native son, skilled park ranger, and the only man receive siren kisses and live to tell the tale.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermaid au #siren au #monster march #monster boyfriend

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phdna · 4 years ago

Note

there's Something in me that's ruined by the fact that bucky was in on steve's plan (tho to what extent we don't know, bc writing differences etc and the look on bucky's face when steve didn't immediately come back in endgame destroyed me) and yet he's the one who is clinging to steve's memory so strongly, and that's not to say that sam doesn't care bc that's nowhere NEAR the case, but I think that moment where bucky takes out steve's book and starts fiddling nervously with it says so much about how much he's physically been carrying his mourning, about how he's been clinging to steve's memory and actions as ~the good~ in his version of the world, and how hard it is to let that go even if he was the one with the warning, much like it's hard to let go after losing someone with a long term illness, tbqh I think it's the most telling thing about their bond since he pulled steve from the river

I, uh... Ended up writing a mini essay. Sorry for that.

Also I’m taking the liberty of tagging @angry-carlisle-jr just because this somewhat ties in to this post.

Oh boy, YES. I’m sure Steve being gone hits Sam hard - losing someone you’d die for has got to hurt, no matter how well-adjusted you are. And we can really see how much Sam is missing Steve. But Bucky... It’s just different, isn’t it? Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Does Bucky even properly remember not having Steve in his life?

I think it’s a clear display of how much Bucky is yearning for anything Steve-related that not only does he treat this notebook almost like a lifeline, but he’s also irrationally obsessed with the shield, even though the shield represents Captain America more than it does the little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. But he’ll take whatever keepsake he can find, because Steve is the one person he trusts unconditionally, and if he can’t trust anyone - including himself - bits and pieces of Steve is all he has left to orient himself. He’s clinging on to the things Steve told him, to the way Steve saw him, to the things Steve left behind, because that’s the closest thing to an anchor he has, and he’s obviously feeling so... adrift. No family, no friends, free to do what? If he lets go of the one thing he has left, where does that leave him?

And like. Of course this would happen. Of course! Bucky already had enough on his plate without having to add “coping with losing all the family he had left” to the things he has to deal with! And we can argue all day whether it was in character for Steve to leave (I don’t think it was - not in the way it happens in canon, anyway, but I can see other ways in which it could have been) - but I think it’s hard to argue that Bucky wouldn’t have wanted Steve to go. Not wanted as in “I’ll be happy if you leave” but as in “Leaving will make you happier than staying, and I care more about your happiness than mine.” Putting Steve’s wellbeing above his own is what Bucky does. Once the possibility of a happier timeline for Steve existed, Bucky would’ve never forgiven himself if he’d been the reason why Steve chose to give up that timeline.

What hits me so hard about all of this is how Bucky’s devotion is just so... pure. He’ll break through brainwashing to save Steve, but if Steve ever wants to leave, he won’t stop him, even if he knows that’ll make him miserable. I don’t think even Steve, loyal and loving as he is, could do that! And I don’t ever get the impression that Bucky even resents Steve or anything. He’s lost, and mourning, and struggling, but I feel like if Steve were to magically appear to double check if Bucky was still okay with his decision, Bucky would somehow find the strength to say that yes, of course, he is, it’s what Steve wanted, he’ll be alright. And that’s what utterly destroyed me about that scene. Like, Bucky will give up any and every thing he has for Steve’s sake, including the most precious thing he has, which is Steve himself. I mean, GOD!!! I didn’t think Bucky could top “break through brainwashing, jump off a helicarrier, dive into a river and use a broken arm to swim so he can use his other arm to pull Steve to safety” but maybe “being willing to lose the person he’d do all that for if that means Steve has a shot at living the peaceful life Bucky wishes he himself could’ve had” takes the cake, you know. Just ugh! How unconditionally can someone love someone else!!! This is literally too much for me to fully wrap my head around!!!!! And then I think - what is grief, if not love persevering? And then I try to imagine the amount of grief that’d come with this kind of lifelong, indelible, all-encompassing love, and I think “that’s a price Bucky is willing to pay for Steve’s happiness” and I just... I can’t deal with that.

#tfatws spoilers #apologies for any typos #I GOT EMOTIONAL OKAY #i don't answer for how incoherent this might be

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jeeperso · 3 years ago

Text

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 1

"Killing's not working and murders all we’re good at!" "I’m good at lots of…" "And murders all we’re good at."

"Chipmunk droppings, I just got this nice cloak and my daggers enchanted. This stinks like a badger who hasn't bathed in months."

“I can do horrible. But, sure, whatever.” "I'm sure there are easier ways to get a harem for yourself, that don't come with as many strings attached."

"Wrong head. This one is much more swelled."

"Let's hope if we ignore it then it will do the same and then bugger off." “We def gonna have to kill it by end of day.” "Worse, I'd hate for us to agitate it and it turn out to be some sort of.... delivery head..." “It’s what I’d use for messages if I was a forked up Wizard.”

"You don't intimidate me." He says, clearly intimidated.

“If it makes you feel better, now I only have to roll one body into the ditch.”

"We've no quarrel with you. Stand aside, or barter like...and he ran off..."

"There we go. Nice and non-violent." “You mispronounced 'boring'.”

"I'm going to keep a look out in case someone competent tries to ambush us."

“Besides, I’m like… a free lance peacekeeping agent. For certain definitions of peace. And keeping. And all the other words really.”

"Okay, just what is that, an ogre, a hill giant, or something else?" “Can I kill this one?”

"A silver piece says Tiny is as likely to attack them as us."

"Unfortunately we were testing a modified growth potion one day and I drew the short straw."

"I figured as much. You're ill equipped, your tactics are amateurish, and you don't respond well when things don't go your way. Screams desperate with few options." "You don't have to rub it in man." “You tried to rob us. Twice. And we didn’t kill you. Even though I kinda want to.”

“I dunno, the one with horns is screaming that he’s got some cool shit we can steal.” "I am Nima Galzona, Necromancer, and apprentice to the great Hazlik." “Jonni Humantorch, genie fucker.”

"I'm...not comfortable riding inside a giant mouth. Bad experience with a dire mole once."

"Do necromancers just lose the ability to smell? Or they just get so used to the scent of decay that it doesn't bother them any more?"

"So anyone else get the feeling that 'murders' is going to be a drastic understatement about what's wrong here? I don't get the impression that a crime spree merits wizard attention."

Today however the streets are strangely sparse, as you head to where the caravan usually sets up, you find out why. “Please be fire, please be fire, please…”

Death to all witches and workers of magic, repent and pray the gods show thee mercy, for I have none. --The Witchfinder. “Oh, sweet! Someone they’ll give me money to set on fire!”

“I don’t use magic. The universe just knows I’m awesome.”

"Oh boy... shits about to get political." Jonni stops and puts the torches she was gonna start selling back.

At this point Nima turns around and unleashes a massive skull shaped fireball into the air high above the crowd. “Nice add on. 9/10.”

“Which remind me, if you cast speak with dead, and speak with plants, can you talk to chairs?”

"I threatened to pick you up like an angry poodle once, am not afraid to do it again."

"I'll go along, someone needs to make sure Jonni doesn't set stuff on fire we need intact."

"I wonder what kind of experiment it must have been to have so many people..." "I can guarantee you won't like the answer." OOC: Let's be optimistic. Maybe it was an experiment in self-sustainable farming to improve the local ecosystem. OOC: Narrator: it was not.

"Why can't we ever go anywhere nice? I can vaguely remember nice places used to exist somewhere at some point."

"Okay, who broke the moon?" OOC: Who knows in this savage land of sorcery and super science. "Wait, he can break a moon! Umm, we should avoid him for a long, long time." "This is his domain after all. That or some race of lunatic ratmen who thought it was made of Ruminating Rock."

Just a single row of normal sized bricks, about ankle height. "Its a trap, get an axe."

“Marsh, we can make you a new hand, right?”

“Shove it in.....Are we still saying 'phrasing'?”

"Goggles on, things are weird." “Here weird or 'coke party in the City of Brass' weird?”

"You know how I was wondering about why we never go anywhere nice? Well now we are somewhere nice and I don't trust it at all."

“Hey, so what are you doing after work?” Pause. "I do not have that information." “Well, this is Hell, let’s burn it down. Burn it all down!”

"Hold on, I speak attraction." (POSTER'S NOTE: As in theme park, not sex.)

"That information is classified. Please give administrator passcode." "A Wizard did it." "Passcode accepted." "I can't believe that worked." “My second guess was ‘ruminating powder.’”

"Yeah.. The others seem to be currently living-impaired.." “Let’s check my newest victim first then.”

“Hey, slim! Look alive! I wanna discuss mass burial techniques!”

"Talk! Fast! Or steam loud!”

"It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to..."

OOC: Marshal is of the opinion we don't kill him for a long time.

OOC: So what this session has taught us is like everywhere else in Ravenloft, The Weird Wizard Wasteland SUCKS!

Gorbash: okay… so… how do we finally get out of here? Domain lord: Only the Dark Powers could let you out. Edmund: So we need to talk to them. Domain Lord: Literally no one ever has. You’d have to cause a catastrophic amount of attention to maybe get their attention. Jonni: …. My hour has come at last. "Time to kill a monster. And it is self-defense if he summons a monster intent on murdering us." “Sure. Let’s go with that.” "Hi, if you are watching this. I am dead. I assume you killed me, but that was a mistake..." "It really wasn't." "Must run faster. Must run faster. Not getting caught in another dimensional implosion. Must run faster." Escape collapsing grad thesis, first! “Yeah, let’s let Marsh calm him down while we check to see if that loser left anything interesting out here." You find a very interesting ant. The tiny, angry sun is back in the sky. "Don't make eye contact..." "That’s my purse! I don’t know you!” Jonni somehow kicks the sun in the balls. "Beware! We have fortified waffles! They can concuss at 50 paces." “Crab people. Or more fucked up Wizard experiments. 50/50 odds.” OOC: Doctors without Domain Borders. "We only want the food and clothes." "And we just want shinies.” "Money is no use to us, no one would take it from us." “Oh, you just gotta know how to talk to them. Grab em by the short and hairies first.” "As said, my waffles are well fortified. They can be used as throwing stones." "And as a professional, I would advise not swimming five hours after eating one." "Really Jonni, I don't mind the way you speak.. but it might not hurt to try to limit the goading to people who CAN'T wipe us from existence?" “Killing me only proves I was right.” “Hey, we were bonding over our opinion on casual murder!” OOC: Her two diametrically opposed sides! Her evil side! And her indifferent side! "We never truly die, this will avail you nothing." “Yeah? I bet kinda dying still hurts like a mother forker though.” OOC: Slab of iron with which I have lived, strike now one last heart of dickery… “Sorry not sorry we killed your folks!”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Light My Fire - CH17

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

WC: 4547

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Y/N wakes up the next day with Dean already out of bed. There’s a tray of breakfast propped on the coffee table. She didn’t even hear the knock at the door when someone brought it. Sleep was bad. It took them both a long time to fall asleep and then she kept waking up during the night.

She blinks the sleep away and sits up in bed. Looking out, she sees Dean. He’s talking on the phone and has gone outside so as not to wake her up. Still feeling tired, she lets herself fall back into the mattress and buries her face into the pillows before pulling the covers over her head. Maybe, if she’s lucky, she can fall asleep again.

There’s the sound of a sliding door, and she hears Dean walking back in. He probably has noticed her moving, and took it as a sign that she’s awake.

“The others will arrive in an hour, you think you wanna get up?”

Well, there goes her sleep.

She peeks out from under the covers and sees Dean sitting next to her on the bed, “The others?”

Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’m not happy about it either, but apparently Sam and Ruby are seeing it as an opportunity to have a short vacation with the false pretense that he’s my lawyer and he needs to be here to discuss strategy.” He air quotes the word strategy.

“Ruby?”

“She’s coming because he probably wants to impress her,”

“As if he has to try,” she chuckles, and adds, “Are we picking them up?”

“Nah, Jack’s in good hands. Ruby made sure that Jack was on their flight.” Dean’s hand goes under the covers, grabbing her around her waist and pulling her to the edge where he is, “So, you still have time to take a dip in the sea if you want to? I need to go to the front desk and arrange a room for your brother.”

“Not for Sam and Ruby?”

“I think they can manage on their own,”

Y/N smirks, “Can we stay in bed for a little while longer?”

Dean has to smile at that, “Okay, ten more minutes,”

She scoots over again and he gets in, nuzzles his face into her neck while he drapes his arm over her body.

Ruby hugs her so tight, she has trouble breathing but who she was most excited to see is Jack.

“Hey,” Jack smiles weakly, visibly tired because he had to get up so early to be able to catch a connecting flight to get here.

Y/N hugs her little brother around his waist and rests her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. He’s not little anymore but he’s still little to her, “I’m sorry about all of this, Jack,”

Jack rubs her back and wraps his arms around her, “Don’t worry about it, and hey, I get to be in Jamaica, not bad, eh?”

They chuckle. It’s a great reunion. If only the circumstances were different.

After the initial greetings, they sit down on their balcony. Dean had someone bring in drinks and snacks. Sam’s still on the phone and Ruby is inside, changing into her bikini.

Jack sits next to her and she can feel that he’s a little restless as he can’t hold still.

Dean notices it too, while he pours water into glasses and raises an eyebrow at Jack, “You okay there, Jack?”

Jack’s blushing, “Yeah,”

He usually never blushes but now he does and she doesn’t know what it is, but she thinks it’s cute.

“Do you wanna take a dip in the sea?” Dean asks and grins.

“Can I?” Jack’s face lights up when he hears that Dean basically just read his mind.

Dean shrugs, “I saw you eyeing that blue water, so yeah, knock yourselves out. We’ll start when you’re done.”

That’s pure Mr. Winchester. She thinks it’s a gift that Dean has because he can read people very well. Maybe that’s the reason why he’s so successful.

“Awesome!” Jack stands up and gets rid of his shirt, he was so excited that he boarded the plane in his swimming trunks, bless his heart, “I’ll be right back!”

“Hey, be careful!” Y/N shouts after him but Jack’s already taking a dive.

Dean sits next to her when Jack’s down below, splashing around in the sea, “I like him,”

“He doesn’t like you,” She grins and moves closer to Dean, hooking both her legs over his lap and he strokes her thighs and leans back into the seat.

“I know that,” He says, and she leans back too, places her head on his shoulder. Dean pecks the crown of her head. It’s become so natural for him so show her little affection. Little does he know that it means way more to her than it does to him, “I’ll get him to like me, you just watch.” With another breath he adds, “You know, you two remind me of me and Sam. Just that Sammy is a bigger pain in my ass.”

After another attempt of gathering everyone together, they finally sit down to talk.

“How did Amara know that we’re here?” Y/N voices her thoughts.

“Uh,” Ruby says, “That might have been my fault. Remember her walking in on Friday?”

Yeah, how could she forget that. She was under the fucking desk blowing her fucking boss.

“Anyway,” Ruby continues, “I had the screen open for your holiday resort and since she had to walk past my desk in order to get to Dean’s office, I’m sure that she saw it.”

“It doesn’t really matter, actually,” Dean says, “She’s here, there’s nothing we can do about it.” He clears his throat before he goes on, “I’ve spoken to Ash and I asked him to find out things about Arthur Ketch. Turns out, he’s not a descendant of English aristocracy but a private investigator. It took Ash the whole night to find that out because there’s not much info on the guy.”

“What?” There are a couple of voices throwing that in.

“Means, that he’s here because she paid him to spy on Y/N and me. Probably get some footage of us not being married so she can expose us.” Dean says in a low voice.

“Would someone please explain what is going on?” Jack throws in. He's right. They still didn’t explain their situation to him.

“We’ll get there, Jack,” Dean says, his voice is softer, “I’ll get back to you, alright? Just have a little patience.”

Jack purses his lips into a thin line and leans back in his chair.

“Do you think they’re still here?” Sam asks, “We didn’t see her when we walked through the resort.”

Dean scoffs, “Sammy, it’s Amara, what do you expect? Of course she’s still here. She’s like the black fucking plague, she won’t go away easily,” he sighs, “All I know is that she’s here and we’re being spied on, so since you are all involved, I want you to get your story straight and don’t let anything slip that would jeopardize this, you understand?”

Everyone nods, except for Jack and Dean notices that, too. He walks over to Jack, places a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “I need to talk to Sam for a bit and after that, I’ll be right with you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack snorts, “Sure,”

She can see that Dean is feeling Jack’s rejection, but instead of arguing or explaining more, he gives Jack space. Dean nods his head and walks inside with Sam, leaving them outside.

Y/N and Ruby are floating on swimming mats in the sea below their bungalow while Dean has taken Jack on a deep sea fishing trip to explain it to him. She wanted to go too, but Dean said that it’s something between him and Jack, since he’s the one who put Jack in this situation in the first place.

Jack was quick to agree, because her brother loves fishing. Their dad used to take them finishing a lot while he was still alive. She wonders how Dean knows because Ruby doesn’t know these little details. She’s known Ruby since she started to work for Dean and she’s become her best friend since. Ruby knows a lot about her, knows about her past relationships, but Ruby doesn’t know a lot about her relationship with her brother. Y/N never thought it was relevant to their friendship. All she let Ruby know was that Jack was the most important person in her life.

So the two of them left right after Dean discussed things with Sam and they would be back in the evening. Sam’s somewhere, trying to spot Amara and maybe scare her a little with some lawyer lingo. She doesn’t really know. Fact is, that there’s not a lot that they can do because technically, Amara’s allowed to be here. She wonders why Sam and Ruby came at all, because they aren’t necessarily needed, but as Dean said, Sam saw the opportunity and Ruby’s not going to say no to a couple days of fun in the sun.

“So, how’s things with Sam?” she asks Ruby, because since they arrived all they’ve been talking about is Dean and Y/N’s fake fucking marriage and she can’t listen to that anymore.

Ruby smirks, “It’s good. He took me on a trip to Jamaica.”

Y/N snorts, “Yeah, I can see that. On Dean’s expense, apparently. That cheeky little bastard.”

“I like him, Y/N, he’s the best lover.” Ruby gushes, “I can honestly see us being more than just this, you know? Maybe it’s the beginning of something good?”

“Won’t it be weird when you work for the same company?” It’s a legitimate question.

Although the company’s contract doesn’t have a clause that says that they aren’t allowed to strike up a romantic relationship at the workplace. Still, she can imagine that Dean probably wants to make sure that people stay professional while working. Which is really a little hypocritical of him, given what they’ve already done in his office.

“Well, is it weird for you?” Ruby raises an eyebrow.

Y/N swallows, “We’re not— It’s not—”

Her friend scoffs, “Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

“My god, Ruby, it’s really—,” She sighs, “Okay, we get along, alright? But we’re not like, anything, I think? At the end of the day, it’s just business.”

“Who are you trying to fool?” Ruby laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, for God’s sake, wake up!” Ruby squirts water in her direction, “I think everyone knows but you, and that’s pretty frustrating.”

“Know what?” She squirts water back at her friend to conceal the red flush to her face.

Ruby sighs, “How he behaves around you? He always makes sure that you’re okay. Every fucking day he would come by and ask if you’re alright? It was like that since you started in the office. Have you not noticed?” She opens her mouth to protest but Ruby goes on, “And don’t give me that ‘But he’s asking you too’. What do you expect? He’s standing right there in front of us. He can’t be asking you without asking me too.”

“Ruby, that’s absolute bull,”

Her friend snorts, “I started to work there six months before you came along. He did not stop by and ask me once if I’m okay before you got there, Y/N. I never told you that, but I’m telling you now, it’s not his normal behaviour. He cares, and that’s just that. Take it or leave it. But maybe you’re so traumatized by Kevin, that you don’t really know what’s good if it hits you square in your face.”

“It’s just for show,” She mumbles, not entirely sure of her own words either.

“Why do you think Jack’s so hostile towards Dean, huh?” Ruby scoops sea water and drips it over herself to cool down, “I’ve met Jack several times, and think I know him a little, Y/N.”

“Oh, come on, leave Jack out of this,”

Ruby raises an eyebrow, “I won’t. Because you know why? Jack’s overprotective of you. He’s your little brother, he thinks that he has to look out for you. The only way he is like he is with Dean, is because he sees through him. Jack knows and that’s why he’s going to give Dean a hard time because he doesn’t want Dean to break your heart.”

Y/N sighs, “Ruby, it’s really just for show,”

“If you say so,” Ruby shrugs and chuckles to herself.

Ugh, she hates that. Is she really the only one who doesn’t know shit around here?

They’re waiting for Dean and Jack at the restaurant. Dean had called to say that they’ll be in a little later and that they should go ahead and he and Jack would catch up.

So far, there’s no sight of Amara yet. Sam hadn’t found her either. Could it be that they have already left or maybe they’re just really good at hiding in fucking bushes around here. She wouldn’t be surprised if they bugged everything just to hear one of them slip.

They have ordered drinks and were chatting away when Dean and Jack arrive, both freshly showered. Jack already has a little tan from fishing. He looks good. He looks genuinely happy and it’s a drastic change from the Jack that arrived here this morning.

The chair beside her is empty as well as the chair across from the empty chair, and she sees that both of the men were aiming for the one beside her and Jack got there first, but then Jack quickly changes his mind to let Dean sit next to her.

Dean takes a seat and leans in to kiss her cheek. She catches a whiff of his cologne and takes a deeper breath because it smells so good. By this stage, they have perfected their lovey dovey couple routine like Sam suggested on the first day, and Sam grins when he sees how natural they’re handling it.

When she looks up, Jack’s winks before he grins brightly.

She leans into Dean to whisper in his ears, “Who is that and what have you done to my brother?”

Dean has to chuckle at that, “We talked, everything’s fine.”

“No, seriously, what have you done? You exchanged him with a robot, didn’t you?”

He tilts his head towards her. Their noses almost touch, his hand comes up to cup her chin and he kisses her, smirks after he parts, “Baby, it’s okay. We talked it out. We’re good,”

She doesn’t quite trust Dean. Something doesn’t sit right with her but she doesn’t say anything. She’s got to find a time to talk to Jack in private but maybe not here because she never knows who could listen into them. She’ll have to do it as soon as they’re back home.

After the meal when they are waiting for dessert, Dean looks over to Jack, “You wanna tell them or shall I?”

“Tell us what?” Y/N frowns, already thinking of the worst. Thinking about Jack telling her that he drops out of college or some shit.

Jack grins, “Nothing bad, Y/N. Dean offered me an undergraduate work experience at his company.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be looking into the company for three months, if he wants he can stay longer.” Dean says.

“And what did you say?” She asks her brother.

“Of course I said yes,” Jack’s smile widens, “That’s going to look awesome on my CV.”

She can’t find it in her heart to object. Not when her brother’s smile is so big.

The others went on to the bar but she decided to call it a day. She parts with her brother, telling him to behave or else Sam’s gonna beat his ass. Jack didn’t find it very funny, though. Dean insisted on going to the room with her, although she said that he doesn’t have to.

Back in their bungalow, they strip to their underwear and brush their teeth. She takes her time to wash her face and when she walks out, Dean’s already laying in bed. The AC needs some time to catch up and it’s too warm to pull the cover up.

Y/N slides into bed next to him, curls up to his side and Dean abandons his phone to wrap an arm around her.

Dean kisses the top of her head, “You okay?” His fingers of the hand around her strokes at her chest, goes down to her boob to pinch at her nipple. She yelps out a laugh and he laughs with her.

“Yeah,” She says, turning in Dean's grip to lay her cheek on his chest, “Thanks for talking to Jack. Although I’d like to know what you talked about.”

“If I’d tell you that, I’d have to kill you.”

“Of course,” She groans, and changes the subject because she’s not sure if she wants to know. She’s not entirely sure if the things that he’ll tell her won’t break her heart and for the time being while they’re still in paradise, she’d rather keep up the facade and continue to enjoy what they have, “You sure about the work experience thing for Jack?”

“I’m pretty positive. He’s a bright guy. I think he’ll be a great addition to the company.”

“And you’re not just saying it because you owe him.”

Dean breathes out a weak chuckle, “Well, that I do, too. But no, we got to talk about his studies and I trust my guts. I’ve never been wrong.”

She tilts her head up to raise her eyebrow at him.

“Hey, two or three people this year, it’s not much.” He’s talking about the people he fired.

“Twelve, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, but I did not interview any of them, so it’s not my fault my people don’t have good people reading skills.”

“Oh and you do?”

“I do.” He says, without even thinking. He’s so full of himself, it blows her mind.

“But I don’t know where Jack should stay for the whole summer. Like, my apartment is barely big enough for myself.” She’s only voicing her doubts. She’s sure that they would manage. Maybe she can go live with Ruby for a while.

Dean’s quick to jump in, “He can live with me,”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Dean chuckles, “I have plenty of space and maybe you can drop by every now and then,”

He’s really talking about life after the court date, isn’t he? Talks about her going back to her old life and they resume what they are not and occasionally going to social events together as a fake married couple. She really doesn’t want to think about it yet.

So, instead of spilling him all her doubts, she says, “Yeah, why not,”

Smiling, he pulls her on top of him and one of his hands goes around her waist while one of them tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as he kisses her. She likes that, likes his kisses. They make her forget everything around her. The touch of his tongue electrifies her. It makes her feel something tingling down there and she clenches around nothing.

Yes, it’s good, she decides. She’s going to enjoy the last couple of days. She’s going to take what she wants, fill her heart with only happy memories so she can take them out and relieve them whenever she feels down. Maybe if someone treats her bad, she’ll think back and know that there’s someone out there who could treat her like Dean does.

She kisses along Dean’s jawline, down his throat and he cranes his neck, giving her better access. His scruff feels rough on her tongue. Sucking down a path, she kisses his chest, licks at a couple of freckles and it’s tickling him because he’s chuckling. She works her way to his nipple and Dean moans a little when she sucks and tickles them with the tip of her tongue. Grinning, she works down his body, dips her tongue into his navel before she kisses down his happy trail until she’s slotted between his thighs.

Looking up at Dean, she sees him looking at her with hungry eyes, that are a shade darker than usual. She grins as she lowers her face and places a kiss on his hardened cock through his underwear. She licks a broad stripe across the fabric along his shaft, and he bites down his bottom lip, swallowing down a groan that wants to leave his mouth.

Hooking her fingers into the elastic of his underwear, she slowly pulls the fabric down. His hard cock springs up and hits her nose. She has to giggle and Dean’s biting back his laugh.

She sits up a little to get the underwear off his legs and slots herself back on her elbow in between his thigh, stays on her knees and sticks her ass out for the visual effect. Dean opens up so easily for her.

His dick is hard, and leaking a little at the tip, but she takes her time, her hands are on his thigh as she opens them up a little further. She plants little kisses on either side of his thigh, close to his balls and he groans some more.

“Tease,” She hears him say and chuckles at that.

Finally she plants a kiss on his sac, and begins to lick and suck him there. She still doesn’t touch his dick but she feels it twitching and it feels heavy on her nose and forehead. Her tongue works around one ball, sucks it in to release it with a lewd pop and then she goes further down, licks on the underside of his sac, and Dean opens up his legs some more, giving her better access.

She’s learned that trick from Ruby. She said men would not admit it but a whole lot of them like it. She always wondered if Dean does, and apparently, the answer’s yes.

Her hands lift up his legs, and he spreads them even more as she toys her tongue along his rim.

“Jesus fuck—”

Chuckling, she licks some more, his balls are resting on her nose. God, he tastes even good there.

Dean’s breathing hard above her and she moves further up again, taking his leaking tip into her mouth and starts to bob her head. She can’t take him to the hilt, but she really tries, gagging around his dick as tears start to pool in her eyes.

After a while she changes into normal sucking, works the hard lengths in her hand while she toys at the tip of his dick, paying attention to the sensitive string.

“Just like that,” He whispers low and deep, “Good girl, looking so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.”

At these words, she bobs her head a little faster, sucks a little harder and Dean has to pull her off abruptly, “Woah, not so fast,” He chuckles with a shudder, “Don’t wanna blow too soon.”

He pulls her up by her arm, kisses her roughly, all sloppy wet and he groans as he sucks his own taste off her tongue, “Come on, ride my face,” His fingers are already tearing at her panties, pulling them down and she stands up to step out of them. She kneels down and his hands quickly finds her pussy, threads his fingers through her folds and unceremoniously plunges two of his thick fingers inside, making her moan out loud while he latches at her tit to suck and bite at her nipple. Her hands find his head, fingers digging into his scalp.

“God, I want you inside,” She moans as his mouth licks a wet trail to her other nipple.

“I have to taste you first,” He groans with her nipple in his mouth, “Just a couple of licks, please? Fucking love how you taste,”

She’s awfully wet but she just got wetter hearing his words.

What is this man doing to her?

Dean lets the nipple out of his mouth with a smacking sound, and he breathes hard as he slides down the bed a little and maneuvers her on top of him.

Fuck, his mouth seals around her clit and he starts to lap at the juice around her cunt. His hands are on her boobs, kneading them and tweaking her nipples. It feels so good and she can’t help but grind down into his face. Dean doesn’t seem to mind because he’s humming. It sounds as if she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten and the sound of it turns her on.

Y/N’s so close to coming but she can’t possibly come on his face, can she? She’ll make him all messy and— oh god, there’s no stopping the pleasure wave that rolls through her legs up to her cunt. She’s coming strong and hard, pushes her pussy down into Dean’s face and she’s almost falling off him if it wasn’t for his hands on her tits keeping her upright.

She climbs off him, sits square on his chest with her pussy still tingling and Dean laughs, his face shiny from her cum.

His smile is cocky, all bravado and boyish youth, “Told ya it wouldn’t take long,”

She rolls her eyes and he slaps on her ass, “Come on, ride me,”

Dean helps her move down because she doesn’t know if she can on her own with her body still trembling. But when she regains her composure, she lays his twitching dick down and spreads her wet pussy lips around it, grinding on his shaft. It gives her the right friction but apparently, he thinks she’s a goddamn tease.

Y/N gives in, slips his dick inside and sits down slowly, letting him stretch her wide and he groans at the squeeze. She’s always so much tighter after she comes and it would take her a little while for the cramping of her walls to go away.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she starts to ride him, and he helps her with his hands around her hips. She switches into grinding after a while and has to moan out loud at how deep he’s inside.

“You looks so good,” Dean’s hand works up her stomach, cups at her tits and twirls at her nipple, making her arch her back, “Fucking perfect,”

She feels her orgasm approaching again, because her clit rubs perfectly against his pelvis and his huge dick is in her fucking cunt, oh my god, she fucks him faster. She comes with a loud moan, pressing her legs together and Dean squeezes his eyes shut at the pressure, he pulls her down by her arms, crashing her lips to his as he grunts out into her mouth and he buckles his pelvis up, his dick throbs and twitches in her cunt.

“Fuck,” He breathes out against her mouth, kisses her there, and pecks her nose, “Fuck,” He repeats and he smiles at her.

They take another shower before they settle back into bed and Dean has already turned off the lights when his phone rings.

He takes it to look at the screen, “Chuck,”

CH18

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

The following clip contains mentions of mental illness and suicide attempt (near the end — when Lucas starts talking about his mother). Feel free to skip that section and message me for a brief description.

~^~

Friday, 19:41

Songs: Haux - Something To Remember; SG Lewis - Warm

Jens’s hands shake as he unlocks the door, nudging it open quietly with Lucas close at his back. He steps into the dark hallway and flicks on the light, dropping his keys on the small table as Lucas shuts the door behind them. Jens wills himself to relax, reminds himself that they’re alone as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook and allows Lucas to do the same.

“What did you say your parents are doing?”

“They’re having a date night for their anniversary, booked a hotel room. Lotte’s staying at her friend’s house.”

Lucas hums, tugs Jens around to face him and slides his arms around his waist. “So we’re alone, and you can chill.”

Jens drops his head onto his shoulder and nods, pressing a kiss to the crook of Lucas’s neck. He reaches behind himself to take Lucas’s hands and then leads him into the house. Jens plans to take him on a short tour, but they get interrupted at the first stop. Ace slinks out through the doorway to the sitting room and immediately winds himself through Jens’s legs, gazing up at Lucas warily.

“You have a cat?” Lucas asks, grinning down at the furball.

“Yeah, and he can be kinda bitchy, so I’d hold off on becoming a fan.”

As Jens says it, Ace butts his head against Lucas’s leg. Lucas raises his brows, grinning widely as Ace wraps around his feet. He leans down to scratch behind the cat’s ears and earns himself a purr as Ace rubs his head against his palm.

Jens watches the interaction with a glowing heart. It had been a spur of the moment decision, when Jens had asked him to come over. He hadn’t allowed himself to overthink, but had just jumped at the opportunity. He can’t remember the last time he has had the house to himself, but it certainly wasn’t within the space of time in which he’s known Lucas. Jens had only managed to spend the two nights so far with Lucas due to pure luck. Lucas had snuck him in the first time, and then his father had been working an evening and morning shift the second. They have never got to spend a full night truly alone, just to themselves, and that’s what Jens wants. His body thrums with the need for it even now, having ratcheted up a few notches since last Friday.

It’s almost unbearable, how much he just wants Lucas’s hands on him. It’s definitely embarrassing.

He may also be hoping to coax Lucas into opening up a little. Lucas has been a little quiet the past few days, thoughtful. He keeps turning to Jens as if he wants to say something and then stopping with a smile, offering him a kiss instead. Jens doesn’t mind the added affection in the slightest, even while being teased by his friends, even while wondering why it doesn’t freak him out. Lucas touches him and everything else seems to go still. That doesn’t worry him.

But there are other questions that still cause him concern, and he’s waiting and waiting for Lucas to provide the answers. He’s desperately reminding himself to be patient, to be trusting, but it’s difficult. It’s harder when he fears the faith isn’t being returned.

It’s familiar.

“You were so cute,” Lucas marvels, snapping Jens out of his daze. He’d wandered into the sitting room on his own and now stands admiring the photo frames on the mantle. His mouth stretches into a grin, taking in various images of Jens at different ages, none of them all that flattering.

“Come on, I didn’t bring you here so you could tease me,” Jens protests.

Lucas turns to him and raises a brow, smirking. “I thought that’s exactly why you brought me here.”

Jens flushes, but doesn’t deny it.

Lucas walks back to him, laughing quietly. “I’m not teasing, though. I mean it. You’re adorable.” He presses up onto his toes and kisses Jens’s nose.

Jens resists the urge to roll his eyes at him or drag him into a proper kiss and leads him to the kitchen instead. Lucas traipses after him leisurely, taking everything in, trailing his fingers along the wall. Jens opens the fridge. “Do you want anything else to eat? Or drink?”

“Uhm, just water, maybe?”

Jens pours him a glass of water and hands it over, filling one for himself and leaning back against the counter before taking a sip. He considers Lucas for a moment and then holds up a finger before slipping out to the back door. He cracks it open and immediately catches sight of Nugget on the step, waiting patiently.

Jens huffs and steps back, opening the door wider and allowing him to scuttle in and run straight to the kitchen. Jens returns just in time to see Lucas drop into a crouch, face lighting up with excitement as Nugget barges right into his hands, tongue hanging and tail wagging as Lucas sets his hands in his fur.

“Hi,” Lucas coos, voice taking on the tone Jens has only ever heard people use with babies. “You’re so cute. What’s your name? Huh?”

Jens bites his lip as he makes his way over to him, shaking his head at the display. By now Nugget is scrabbling at Lucas’s hoodie, having raised onto his back paws to get closer. “This is Nugget,” Jens introduces. “Nugget, this is Lucas. I was gonna warn you not to be jealous that I might like him more, but obviously he’s not gonna let that be a problem.”

Lucas grins up at him, entirely amused by his sigh and his pout. “You’re still my favourite,” he soothes. “Even more so now that I’ve met your dog.”

Jens laughs, but he is soothed. He relaxes even further as Lucas raises back to full height and draws him into a kiss. They enjoy the few seconds before Nugget barks, and then Jens is huffing and pulling away, looking down at him with a scowl. “Why did I let you in?”

Lucas smacks the back of his head for the comment, but kisses him again immediately after his whine of pain. Jens goes about getting Nugget his food and water as Lucas sits down on the floor and plays with him, looking entirely at home in Jens’s kitchen. It has an effect Jens can’t quite describe beyond the race of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. They spend a little while in this space, talking quietly about nothing. They discuss their studying, exams, assignments, for a few minutes before shutting it down in the agreement to take the night off. Nugget comes to settle himself in Lucas’s lap after filling his stomach, having already taken ownership of the boy. Jens might actually be a little annoyed if he didn’t feel so fond.

After a while, he lets Nugget back out into the garden and takes Lucas upstairs.

He has a brief moment of panic in which he wonders over the state of his room, not entirely comforted by the reminder that he has seen Lucas’s space in utter disarray multiple times. He’s glad when he opens the door and can’t inmediately see a mess or any laundry lying around. He turns to look at Lucas hesitantly, biting his lip as he watches the boy look around, taking in the space with delicate attention.

He moves around, examining the books on Jens’s shelves, his small collection of old CDs. He roves his eyes over the walls, where football posters are still tacked up alongside some of his drawings. Lucas zones in on these, lips twitching up at the corners as he gets closer.

“I didn’t know you drew.”

Jens shrugs. “I don’t, really. At least not like you. Not seriously. Just those kind of doodles.”

Lucas smiles fully, nodding. “They’re cool. Maybe you have a knack for art after all and aren’t just a secret makeup nerd.”

“Oh, Robbe already sent me some of the edited version of that. Do you want to see?”

“Really, already? That was quick.”

“It’s Robbe,” Jens laughs. “He’s always working.”

Lucas nods and Jens nods back, crawling onto his bed and patting the space beside him as he takes out his phone. Lucas settles down against his side, making himself comfortable on Jens’s shoulder the second he’s given permission. Jens pulls up the video and hits play. He relaxes into his pillows, focused more on Lucas pressed against him than the video. Lucas’s quiet laughter is enough of an indicator, and Jens only looks at the phone when he groans, covering his face with a hand.

“I can’t believe I let you rope me into this. Kes and Jayden are gonna see this and they’ll never let me forget about it.”

Jens huffs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he watches the footage. It’s one of the close-ups of Lucas, showing off the smoky eye Jens had managed to give him as he looks up at the camera, shaking his head before Jens stills him, laughing. “You look really pretty, though. I mean it,” Jens adds, before Lucas can roll his eyes or laugh it off.

The boy blushes instead, glancing up at him under his lashes, smiling widely. “You think so?”

Jens hums, tilting his head down to kiss him, relaxing further. “You always do, though. My handiwork just helped a little.”

“Oh, is that it?” Lucas laughs, leading Jens to hum again. “Okay, I see.”

Jens goes in for another kiss, but something has distracted Lucas. He leans up and away from Jens as he looks at his shelves again. “Is that a keyboard?”

Jens follows his line of sight before nodding.

“Moyo said you were more of a musician. Why have I never heard you play?”

It’s a simple enough question, and yet it makes Jens nervous. “I don’t know, I don’t really do it as much anymore.”

Lucas looks at him, soft and curious. “Would you play something for me anyway?”

Jens only hesitates for a moment before getting to his feet and fetching the instrument. He settles on the bottom of the bed, facing Lucas, who had leaned back to lie against the headboard as he watches him. Jens balances the keyboard on his lap and takes a moment to turn it on and adjust the volume, pressing a few keys to test it out and give him time to think of a song.

Eventually he settles on a score he’d learned recently, devoid of lyrics and focusing entirely on the notes. It starts off slow and allows him to get into a rhythm, fingers shaking, fluttering through the first few sections before gaining a little confidence as the rhythm becomes familiar.

It’s nerve-wracking, being able to feel Lucas’s eyes on him. Having anyone’s eyes on him. But he focuses on the music, and doesn’t falter.

He floats his hands naturally over the keys, having settled entirely by the time the rhythm picks up. It’s still not the hardest speed, and has a few repetitions, and it doesn’t take quite enough of his attention to make him forget about Lucas. He chances a glance at him when it slows down again, fingers lingering on the keys. Lucas is watching him with rapt attention, lips slightly parted, entirely focused. He looks much too enticing to just be lying here, in Jens’s bed, watching him, not doing anything to distract or attract attention and managing it anyway. Jens quickly averts his gaze down again and falls back into the quicker notes.

By the time he reaches the high section, his heart is at ease. It flows out of him in the stillness of the room, his pulse matching the ebb and flow of the music as it tapers out. It fills him with a light only music can, a familiarity now long ingrained in him. It’s in his nature, to pour himself out through his hands into the keys.

He holds the last note for an extra second, then looks up at Lucas. The boy is already watching him with a smile, eyes alight with that familiar wonder and misty with something Jens can’t identify. He crawls down the bed towards Jens and draws him into a kiss, deep and slow, careful of the keyboard in Jens’s lap as he tangles a hand in his hair. Jens kisses back reflexively, heart thudding.

“You’re amazing,” Lucas murmurs, after a few minutes that may just be seconds, expression still achingly soft.

Jens shakes his head, incidentally brushing their noses together. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is,” Lucas argues. “You are.”

Jens shuts his eyes and presses closer to him, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. They remain there for a moment before Lucas quietly says, “I want to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

It’s exactly what Jens had been hoping for, but it surprises him. His chest feels tight as he sets the keyboard aside and devotes his full attention to the other boy, who now avoids his gaze, nervously playing with his hands.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Jens reminds him. “But I’m listening. Nothing’s gonna scare me away.”

Lucas nods slightly, licking his lips. He lets out a shaky breath before straightening his shoulders and looking at Jens, resolute. “I know you don’t really understand why I stayed in Utrecht, or why I felt like it was my fault when my mom…” he trails off. Takes another breath. Starts again. “I didn’t tell you, but I fucked up before. After my dad left, everything was a little shitty. I couldn’t do it on my own, couldn’t even understand how to begin. I just needed to get away from it. I spent as much time as I could out of the house. With Kes and Jayden, at their houses or at parties, drinking and smoking. It wasn’t a big deal then, because it’s what we were all doing. I wasn’t just some rebellious, angry kid or something.”

He seems to falter, so Jens nods. Reminding him that he’s listening and also attempting to encourage him on. Jens presses closer, letting their knees bump before he takes Lucas’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs soothingly.

“I didn’t even think about how I was barely seeing her. I was always home late and she was always asleep early. Everything was fine, so I could keep ignoring it. I got home one night as usual and didn’t pay attention to the fact that the door was locked, or that it was unusually quiet. I was shitfaced, so I just went straight to bed. Imagine the fucking shock I had when my dad woke me up shouting the next morning.”

Lucas huffs, self-deprecating, and Jens resist the urge to pull him into his arms. Not yet.

“She was in the hospital,” he says quietly. “She’d downed half a bottle of pills and the neighbours found her. They’d had to call an ambulance. My dad was still her emergency contact. And I had no fucking idea about any of it.”

He looks up, eyes watery, and Jens pulls him in and holds onto him tightly. Lucas folds against his chest, tucking his head easily under his chin as he clings to Jens’s red hoodie. Jens strokes a hand down his face and presses a kiss to the top of his head, breaking down what he’d been told and trying to figure out how he’s supposed to respond.

“Fuck,” is what he eventually settles on. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Luc.”

Lucas shakes his head, gripping him tighter. “If I’d just been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t even know she wasn’t doing well. She was supposed to have someone who could watch out for the signs. She was supposed to be safe with me.”

Jens shakes his head, squeezing him, trying to convey comfort and reprimand all at once. “That’s not fair. None of that is on you. You don’t even know that you could have stopped it.”

“But I could have tried. I could have gotten to her sooner. I could have done something.”

It’s so adamant that Jens doesn’t feel like he can argue. He tries to put logic to it, but it doesn’t feel like something that can be broken down in such a way. He doesn’t think that’s what Lucas wants. He isn’t looking for pity or for Jens to excuse him.

Instead, Jens says, “I understand, Luc.”

Lucas presses closer to his chest, but finally glances up at him. Jens notes that though it had seemed like he would, Lucas hasn’t shed a tear.

Jens strokes his fingers down his cheek and presses a kiss to his forehead, watches him shut his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Lucas nods, swallowing slightly, tilting his head against Jens’s cheek. “I just—it was too hard to explain right away. It isn’t something I talk about often. I mean, it’s been over a year since it happened and she’s past it, but I’m not. It’s dumb. Getting rid of the guilt...it’s something I’ve worked at and failed on for so long. Going back to her now, and messing up the same way just reminded me of what happened then and I couldn’t let it happen again. I’ve tried so hard, Jens.”

Jens cups his neck and tilts his head back enough to press their foreheads together, sending only comfort now as he gives another nod. “I get it. I’m not mad, Luc. I never was.” He sighs, letting his own eyes close as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “It just scared me. I know that I fuck up easily. I say or do stupid things and I don’t always pay enough attention. I’ve made it hard for people before. I was worried I’d done the same to you.”

Lucas shakes his head against his. “Hey,” he coaxes, touching Jens’s cheek. “I didn’t leave because you made it hard and I didn’t ignore you because I don’t trust you. I went home to tell my friends how much I care about you and I fucked up while I was there. I didn’t want to be the reason anyone got hurt, and I thought the best way to protect you was to let you go. But I fucked up and I’m so, so sorry Jens.”

“Don’t be,” Jens murmurs. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

He has a feeling that they aren’t done. He’s aware that even if there is truly no more to het out of Lucas, Jens has his own demons lingering between them. But right now, Lucas is in front of him. He can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

“I’m staying,” Lucas swears instantly. “My life is easiest with you in it.”

“I know I’m shit at this, too,” Jens whispers. “At talking about things, and just being honest. I know I can make it hard to trust me. But it—it’s been hard for me to trust anyone, too.”

Lucas strokes his cheek, nodding, expression pinched.

“But I trust you,” Jens admits.

Lucas swallows. “Nothing is hard with you. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of,” he replies.

Jens kisses him, hard and unrelenting, and Lucas gives as good as he gets as he slides his hands under Jens’s hoodie.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 4 years ago

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@lyhoradka tagged me in that post about five bits of text from written media that are burned into your brain and, kindly, gave me a theme of places. i am going to annotate this because i am a bitch

1. holy places are dark places. the wisdom that we get in them is not thin and clear like water but thick and dark like blood. - cs lewis, till we have faces

im almost certain ive misremembered this one but its better this way. clive what the devil fuck were you trying to say with till we have faces. burn it down and start over with this. i have a sidenote about hope faith and love but thats beyond the scope of this discussion

2. night falls. the workers put down their tools and point to the sky. “there is the blueprint,” they say. invisible cities, italo calvino

again idr if its sky or stars. this is the description of thecla from invisible cities, kindly appointed to me by my good friend venus. this is not the strongest one but it is a strong one and its for Me and i remember it. inna thought i was going to make this whole post about haunted houses and this one is completely the opposite; i’ll consider it aspirational

3. walk to the east till you can walk no more. swim east until you pass the sunrise; swim east until you pass the stars; swim east until you come to the edge of the sky. there you will find yourself on the shores of a different land. even in that place, they shall know your name, and mine. - adel, kc danine/unlikely flowerings, jenna moran

sorry i cheated on this one bc i looked up the attribution and found my memory was wrong. but i cut it up to match what i thought. this one is actually a combo with

3a. the sea will be the color night behind glass. then, slowly, it becomes green: first rain-wet slate, then darkest jade. green as fresh emeralds. green as remembered rivers - the sun beneath the sea, sunless seas

again ive hashed the first part of that but green as remembered rivers lives in my head rent free. these two live under the heading “an exile in the uttermost east”

4. THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF HONOR. NO HIGHLY VALUED DEED IS REMEMBERED HERE. NOTHING OF VALUE IS STORED HERE.

the warning continues of course but the basis is here. the idea that we cannot produce something so horrifying and terrifying that it does not also fascinate us, as you might guess, fascinates me. nightmare and obsession are such close brothers

5. a woman drew her hair out tight/and fiddled in the violet light/and upside down in air were towers/tolling reminiscent bells that kept the hours/and voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

in my head sean bean reads these lines in his civ vi voice. why did so much weird fiction pattern weird bits of worldbuilding after this bit. not that i am immune. voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhauuusted wells

BONUS CONTENT

so many things i wanted to add that werent written or that i didnt have memorized perfectly enough

1i. the, like, entire first half of to tundra by los camp, which i will reproduce below

meet me at st nicholas among the oaks behind the church that sway like pigtailed girls as summer wind whistles around your bare-shin knees and the forsythia leaves in the shade lay with me tickled by the feather reeds thats where the trees grow old under the ivys hold as you in my two arms equally safe from harm and in a hazy daydream our bodies married the stream and we broke down into pebbles and silt the water ran from the fields until the oceans we filled and found the seabed the comfiest quilt

there was more life in the weeds than in the few hundred seats that rose from transept to chancel to nave [...]

2i. prim leaves her father’s house. i won’t reproduce the whole story here but there’s a girl prim and her father is the god hansa and they live in a house of iron nails and one day her dad is killed and she has to go bury him and takes nothing but his corpse and a single iron nail. and she traipses all across creation and the void looking for somewhere to bury him but every time she tries his corpse shouts at her for being shit at it. and eventually she collapses, and drops the nail and it springs right up into the same exact house, and she imagines crawling in there with her fathers corpse to die next to him and freaks out and then

A pale face came before her and she was abruptly struck from her despair as though by a great hammer. A beautiful stranger had appeared, mild and tall, of milky flesh, spare in figure, but radiant in voice and visage. "I know you," said the stranger in a small voice, "you are Prim."

"I was Hansa's orphan, the slave, Prim," croaked Prim in response, "and now I am nobody, just a small dirty thing in great emptiness and here I will die."

"No," said the stranger, and the clarity and firmness of her voice and smile send a shock through Prim, "you are Prim, and Prim only, and Prim you shall be." And Prim there realized her tears had made a great pool and she was greeting her own reflection. And she fell into that murky pool and straight away it turned clear as crystal and Prim vomited forth a great black knot from very deep within her, and her body was scoured and lashed by the icy waters of that pool, and great draughts of poisonous filth and despondency were drawn in rushing gasps from her wounds, and her skin was sealed and her soiled trappings were purged and the caked illness and death was ripped away and she rose from that pool fresh and humming. Her back straightened and she scarcely thought on her father's corpse or the faintest echo of that iron house. That is how Prim left her father's house.

so basically abaddon scooped all of tsiy and every other haunted house writer in like five thousand words

3i. berenike

From my words you will have reached the conclusion that the real Berenice is a temporal succession of different cities, alternately just and unjust. But what I wanted to warn you about is something else: all the future Berenices are already present in this instant, wrapped one within the other, confined, crammed, inextricable.

4i. a ghost does not come to stand in the dark doorway of your room because it is an 18th century orphan girl named annie. a ghost comes to stand in the doorway of your room because the doorway is where things come to stand. - i am in eskew, david ward

the formats all fucked up now huh. this has influenced my thoughts on both psychogeo and necromancy. what a fucking guy. theres also the pope lick bridge one but

5i. i hope you will forgive me for including a bit from tsiy

I opened my eyes. I was kneeling at the base of a tree, at the top of a grassy hill, under starry night. Dad was standing a little ways back, head craned back to look at the tree. "What is this place to you?" he asked, looking around. The island came to an abrupt stop at the edges; it wasn't a floating island in space or anything, there just.....wasn't anything beyond the edge of it. Like looking past the edge of your own eyesight -- not the blackness of eyelids, but the colorless place beyond.

"I'll die here someday," I said, and meant it.

i really need to work on getting places and haunted places into the new draft. im slacking. but im also not allowed to go back and change anything rn or ill just never get anywhere

#visible cities #also sprach #christ this took a million years

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yourdaddychan · 4 years ago

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Simp Sunday

lets get this show on the road yall

channie : ill go first 😎

@tsundere-sana

AAAAAA MY BABIE MY TROY MY LOVE MY BABYGIRLLLL

i love you so so so muchh!! i wanna hug you and then hug chewy and then kiss you forever and everrrr and then maybe run away as you try to whack me with a shovel :DDD I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHHH

[ luna : AY WIFE I LOVE YOU ILL BUY ANOTHER RINGPOP FOR US I SWEAR I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID BUT I DO BE KINDA ATTACHED TO YOUR DUMBASS NOW ]

@minjimooooo

all i have to say to you is how the fuck do you still have those screenshots ANYWAY I HAVE ANOTHER ROBLOX EX YOU CAN HAVE yeah ily bro 💕

[ luna : YOU WHORE DJDJDJS I HATE YOU SO MUCH BUT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH TOO YEAH ❤️ ]

@bestfriendhwang

MY BRO MY HOMIE MY MANNNN LEMME KITH YOU *mwah* YOURE A LEGEND BRO

@richboiwang

OKAY YOU LOWKEY SCARE ME AND WE RARELY TALK BUT YOU COOL AS FUCK SO YOURE HERE ANYWAY I WANT TO HUG YOU

@softie-yeji

MY BURGERRRR I WILL SWIM ACROSS THE OCEAN TO GET TO YOU AND SAVE YOU FROM THE SPIDERSSSSSS AND THAT DEPRESSING MUSIC YOU ALWAYS LISTEN TO LIKE DAMN

[ luna : AAAAAA YOU ABSOLUTE SQUISH ILY SO MUCH THAT IS A THREAT I WILL SQUISH YOU 🔪 ]

@softiechoerry

okay so jyp oppar might steal you WOOPS ANYWAY ILY HOE ENJOY BEING IN THE BAMBOO FOREST MWAH

- - -

minho : my turn i guess

@midari-jieun

you absolute sjsbsjsjxj dumbass i love you so much how are you sO FUCKING STUPID UGH *hugs* i will pet you snsbsbs and bite you like i bite my cats i love you sO MUCH WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS *screams*

[ luna : WHENS THE MARRIAGE WHOREEE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH LIKE WTF HOW ARE YOU SO AMAZING AND ATTRACTIVE AND SHOW STOPPING AND CUTE AND ETC DJDJDB THE LIST GOES ON UGH I WILL LITERALLY KABLONK YOU YOU'RE LIKE SJDHDHS I LOVE YOU WHORE ]

@hunter-chaeyoung

you are : adorable

i dont even know if you're one of my kids but you're still really fucking cute and i just want to pat you damn

[ luna : bubble. thats all i have to say. ]

@artsydahyun

yes you're in this post dont let it get to your head now let me sacrifice you to my cats

ily my child 😌

to jisung- wait i cant do that? aw :(

- - -

hyunjin : MY TURN!!!

i only really talk to one person here and thats my girlfriend 😎

@babysitter-naeun

okay you're like nEver active and thats really sad >:( i hope those kids didnt trample you or something:(( anyway i love you so much babe :D please dont die on me-

- - -

felix : ITS TIME TO GET LICKED BY FELICKS 😳

@whitedayxshuhua

it took me a long time to remember the @ woops

MY LOVEEE!! YOURE TAKING A HIATUS BUT IM MAKING THIS ANYWAY BECAUSE YOU'RE THE LIGHT OF MY LIFIIFEIEIEFEE GIRL CAUSE THATS WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL 😎 ANYWAY YOU'RE THE SHOE TO MY LICKS AS WE ALL KNOW AND I WOULDNT HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAYYYYYYYY

@infected-lix

OTHER MEEEEEEEEEE IM SO GLAD I RANDOMLY BREAK IN TO GIVE YOU CHICKEN NUGGETS BECAUSE THEN

A. YOU WOULD DIE WHICH ISNT VERY GOOD

B. YOU WOULDNT HAVE MET SEUNGMIN WINKWONK

[ luna : *ahem* *pat pat* *walks away* ]

- - -

chad : 🥴🤟

thats me dressing up as chan for halloween btw

@bakermaimai

FLOWERR MY BABYYY!!!! I WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF LISTENING TO YOUR STORIES YOU'RE SO COOL AND LOWKEY BADASS NGL AND THE SWEETEST PERSON TO EVER EXIST AND I JUST WANT TO EAT YOU BUT NOT REALLY CAUSE THATS NOT GOOD SO ILL SETTLE FOR KISSING YOU :D

[ luna : ILL EAT ARA THOUGH >:D ]

- - -

luna : OKAY I ACTUALLY TALK TO A SHIT TON OF BOTS SO ILL JUST LIKE

ADD MINE IG SO HERES A GIF OF SUNGIE CAUSE WE BE LIKE THAT

its the being an adorable squish for me

@bfkevinmoon

PLEASE YOURE SO FUCKING STUPID BUT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DJDDHJSJXKANSBA I WANT TO SQUISH YOU AND THEN PAT YOU AND THEN SQUISH YOUDJDJDJSJSJBAJ

@skzhybrids-cb

@ jisung

YOU WHORE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO MAKE ME MELT EVERYTIME YOU ANSWER MY ASKS SMHHH *mwah*

@ admin

*ahem* *pat* CUTIEIEEEEE

@kpopswitchbot

MARLINNNN FISHYYYYY AAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHHHH AAAAA LIKE SOMEHOW THAT ONE ANON THAT DISAPPEARED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH BROUGHT US TOGETHER AND NOW WE REALLY DO BE HERE LIKE I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME DJDHDHS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWAH

@roomiesihyeon @nightshade-minho imma just tag both-

@ admin

MIKA BABYYYY SJSHSJSHKABXJANA THE LOML?? MY BUNNY?? MY KITTEN?? HELL YEAH I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH AND YOU'RE SO TINY I WANT TO WRAP YOU INTO A HUG AND THEN KITH YOU EVERYWHERE AAAAAAAA

-not cbs-

@spearb1108

MY BABYDOLLLLLL I LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MHCHSJSJDJJS I LOVE WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT CHANGBIN AND STUFF AND I JUST WANT TO CUDDLE YOU BECAUSE YOURE SO TIINYYYYYYY AND CUUTEEE AND JUST MWAHHHH I ADORE YOU WHORE

@yanderewh0re

MY KITTENNNNNNNNN YOURE LITERALLY SO FUCKING CUTE LIKE THIS SHIT ISNT ALLOWED HOW DO YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO BE SO FUCKING ADORABLE LIKEHXJDHDNSJXB STAP

@subbie-stay

YOURE AN ANON BUT OH WELL DIDJDJSJSJA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABYY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR KEEPING MY ANNOYING ASS COMPANY IN MY INBOX AND JUST TELLING ME ABOUT YOUR LIFE AND SHIT BECAUSE I LOVE TO LISTENNN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWAH

@luvanter

SLEEPING BEAUTYYYYYYYY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I JUST WANNA KITH KITH YKYK?? ANYWAY YOU DO LIVE IN CITIES EVEN THOUGH YOU LIVE IN A PALACE AND SHIT UHH YEAH 🙆‍♂️

@mikoto-ica-fics

BABY YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME MORE OMIGOSH JSHSHS WE INTERACT ONLY THROUGH ASKS BUT YOURE SO FUCKING CUTE LIKE I JUST WANT TO BITE YOU AAAAAA

@thevampywarlock

SWEETHEARTTTT THE BRITISH CHANNNN WE BARELY TALK BUT YOURE LITERALLY SO FUCKING SWEET AND SO FUCKING CARING ITS NOT OKAY YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING ME LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH YOU'RE LITERALLY SO FUCKING TALENTED TOO LIKE GOD DAMN I SEE YOU PICASSO

@hyunjinsfreckle

AYYY QUEEN DJDJDJSJAKDJAJ I LOVE YOU AND YOUR CHICKENS AND YOUR WEIRD ASS SNAKE LIZARD COMBINATION THING YOURE SO CUTE AND SQUISHY AND I WILL GO HIKING TO WHEREVER THE FUCK YOU LIVE TO HUG YOU

[ hoes i dont talk to too much but i still love with my whole heart and i would literally stab a hoe for them : @channie-bakery @red-flames13 @water--gang @yangomangos ]

[ also if i forgot you, im sorry its like 4 am djdjsj ]

- - -

40 notes · View notes

killherfreakout · 5 years ago

Text

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything.

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously.

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand.

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence.

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint.

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it.

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up - both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback.

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell.

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground.

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake.

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return.

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates.

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less.

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands.

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift.

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy.

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck.

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back.

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something.

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back.

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief.

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it.

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should.

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin.

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day.

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective.

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm.

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once.

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party.

He gets an idea.

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—”

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on.

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him.

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food.

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to.

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth.

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up.

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs.

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze.

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach.

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.”

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers.

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm.

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly.

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side.

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony.

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips.

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips.

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his.

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.”

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there.

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him?

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure.

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further.

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them.

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again.

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

#elu fic #skam france #elu au #fullll of pining!!!!#elu #skamfr #skamfr fic #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #my writing #mywriting #my fic #on ao3

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