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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

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Sex pollen

Dick Grayson x reader

Warning: It’s on sex pollen so there is a dub con warning despite the fact that they are willing participants.

Summary: all of the batboys are dusted with Poison Ivy’s sex toxin and think they’ve taken an antidote. It didn’t quite work. This is the story about what happens to Dick.

Beginning Jason Tim Bruce

Dick pushed off of the roof before feeling weightless as he fell towards the ground. He shot the grappling hook and swung to another building. He leaped into a flip before swinging to yet another building where he did a handspring before landing. He ran across the roof before leaping again. This time he landed quietly on a fire escape.

Down below was a pair of drug dealers talking. Dick watched for a few minutes before jumping down in front of them. They yelled out before pulling guns. How predictable. Dick dropped a smoke bomb before leaping over to kick the gun from one guy. He twisted midair to elbow the other one in the face. The first guy throw a punch that Dick ducked.

He swept the guy’s legs out from under him before kicking the other guy in the head. The first guy ran at Dick with a knife. Dick shoved him against the wall and placed plastic cuffs on him. Dick’s heart beat quickened and he was confused. Why the fuck was he horny? He quickly cuffed the second guy and jumped up to the roof and over a few buildings before calling in to GCPD about the men.

He adjusted his cup in his suit and started moving again. What the hell? It’d go away on its own. He’d had boners as Robin a few times as a teen. Excitement of the job had made blood flow and it wasn’t sexual but just awkward. Thank god for a cup back then.

He noticed a guy pushing a woman in the alleyway. It looked like a domestic abuse call. Dick jumped down in front of them.

“Why don’t you hit someone your own size,” he said with a dangerous smirk. The guy frowned and shoved the woman behind him.

“Get out of here, mask. We don’t need you,” he said.

“I knew you’d say that. Let’s leave the lady alone for the night, hu? Take a walk,” Dick said. She gulped.

The guy tried to throw a punch at Dick who grabbed his head and pushed him against the wall. The guy fell down unconscious. Abusers can never take a hit. The woman ran to Dick and gave him a hug. He almost jumped away from her as his body reacted. Okay, that was awful.

“No problem ma’am,” he yelped before swinging to the roof. Go home, Dick. Don’t be a weirdo mask running around with a boner saving the city. He swung back to his apartment and in the window.

“Hey Dickie, lookin good,” you said as you made tea. He almost jumped out of his skin. That’s right, you were staying at his place as your apartment was being fumigated. “Did I scare you?”

“No. My mind was elsewhere,” he said with a smile, pulling off his mask. “I’ve got to shower,” he said moving up the bathroom. He turned on the warm water and started pulling off his suit. The cup was painfully constricting and he sighed with relief as it was gone.

Dick stood under the water and started stroking himself. You were his girlfriend but he didn’t know how you’d react to him coming home with a raging boner after patrol. He was too lost in the sensations to hear the bathroom door open but he heard the shower door open as you walked in nude.

“Woah,” you giggled. “Caught you.”

“You did,” he said feeling his skin turn pink.

“Mind if I uh help out,” you said with a wink. You walked up behind him and wrapped your hand around his and controlling the stroke. After a little bit, your hand took over and Dick made a soft sigh. He turned his head to kiss whatever he could reach, the side of your head and hair at the moment. He slowly turned in your arms and grasped your face to kiss you deeply. His tongue slid against yours. His other hand played with your breast, squeezing and running a finger along your nipple.

The water poured over your bodies and you felt your skin heat up and all you could think about was Dick. Specifically his dick. As if he could read your mind, Dick reached his hand down to rub your clit and dip down to finger you. He let open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you mmmn, but I like it,” you breathed. He chuckled against your skin. Dick kissed over your breasts and down your belly and on your hip bones before kneeling in front of you. He ran a hand up one of your legs before lifting it on his shoulder. He licked a long strip up your slit and you gasped before holding his shoulder. Dick began to vigorously eat you out. You gasped and moaned and clung to him.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop, I’m close,” you whined and he hummed against your skin. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked as his tongue swiped over the bud and you lost it. You moaned loudly and your hips jumped as he continued through your high. You had to push his face away as you stood shaky. Dick smiled up at you.

“Come on,” you said and he quickly complied. Dick slid his tongue in your mouth again and you wrapped a leg around his waist. He moved his hips to slid in. Dick pushed you against the shower wall and held the tiles above your head as he thrust in you. His thrusts were slow and languished and he seemed to want to feel every inch of your core. He gave a strong thrust and you almost fell down scrambling to grab him.

“I got you,” he said. “Let’s get to bed,” he said pulling out and helping you from the shower. The look on his face quieted your protest at the water on the floor and the shower still running. He wanted you badly. Dick picked you up in the hall and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He fucked up into you as he walked towards the bed. He settled for the dresser that was perfect height. You ass sat between the alarm clock and a book as he thrust up in you. Dick’s pace increased and you knocked the book to the floor. You held the mirror behind you as he overwhelmed your senses. It didn’t take much for you to cum again. Dick shortly behind with a few rough thrusts through his high.

“Fuck that was,” you panted. Dick picked you up by the waist. You yelped in surprise.

“I promised you the bed,” he said with a husky voice. You raised a brow but let him carry you to the bed. Okay, someone was in a mood. You weren’t complaining.

Dick hiked your legs on his shoulder and slid in again. You yelped at the suddenness. He slowly circled your clit while keeping a steady pace with his hips. You moaned and closed your eyes as you got close to another orgasm. Dick quickly pushed you over the edge and you clenched around him. His pace didn’t slow down and you looked at him in surprise. He was usually cum around the same time kinda guy.

“Baby,” he whined as he pounded in you. You felt breathless and your senses were overwhelmed.

“Are you close?” You asked and he nodded. His hand holding up your legs tightened as he came. Dick roughly shoved himself deep before stopping. His heart pounded and you could see him sweating. He pulled out and looked down at you. His fingers went to touch your pussy and you pulled away.

“Okay tiger. 3 is enough for me,” you said and he stopped. Dick made a plaintive whine and began jerk himself off.

“What’s gotten into you,” you frowned sitting up on your elbows. He looked desperate.

“Sex pollen,” he breathed and you gasped. You’d heard of it but never seen it. “Hurts. Hurts when I stop.”

“Lay down. I’ll help you,” you said and he quickly complied. His cock stood at attention despite earlier activities. You took him in hand and started stroking him. Dick groaned and his hips jumped every once in a while. You tried to keep him going but not push him over the edge too fast. A bunch of orgasms could be painful so just long sessions had to be better, right?

“Please let me cum,” he begged. Or maybe not. You sped your hand up and he came quickly on his stomach. Dick’s chest heaved as he tried to pull you into a kiss. “Do you need more,” you asked and he nodded quickly. You bent between his legs and settled down to blow him.

Dick groaned pornographically. He gripped the sheets tightly. You slowly bobbed along his link when you heard a knocking at the window that caused you to jump. You pulled off to look over to see a small robot holding a bag. Dick whined when you got up to look at it. The Wayne Enterprise symbol on the side had you opening the window and taking the bag before it flew off.

Dick had gotten up and stood behind you. He rubbed his cock against your ass and kissed your neck as you read the note. You pulled out a set of vials of grey liquid.

“Take this,” you said handing him one. Dick looked at it weird before downing it. You took the other one just in case. You hadn’t kissed Dick in a while and felt pretty clearheaded. He grabbed the side of your face to pull you back under. His tongue gently pushed into your mouth and you moaned at his touch. He pressed his cock between your ass cheeks and rutted against you.

You bent over and pushed your ass out for him to slide in. You gasped and held the still open window sill as he thrust inside you. Your body was exhausted but you wanted more. His fingers between your legs had you clenching around him one more time. He was borderline crying by the time he orgasmed.

Dick simply held your waist loosely as he tried to catch his breath. He whined when he pulled out. Dick simply flopped on the bed. You climbed next to him. It was finally over. You turned to look at him but Dick was already asleep. You quickly followed. You would worry about the aftermath later.

#dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #sex pollen fics #sex pollen dick #batboy x reader

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the-ethereal-serpent · 5 years ago

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Litha : Ways To Celebrate

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Host A Bonfire

Litha is all about the fiery aspect of the sun, so why not celebrate the fertility of the gods with a blazing, roaring fire in your back yard? It's the longest day of the year, so stay up late and host a bonfire for your friends and family.

Get sparklers too, and light them after dark. Make an offering to the gods of your tradition. Be sure to follow basic Bonfire Safety Rules, so no one gets hurt at your celebration. You can even incorporate your bonfire into a Litha rite, with the Midsummer Night Fire Ritual.

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Leave An Offering Of Honey Cakes Outside

Preferably somewhere away from your house, as they will attract insects and even wildlife. Litha is said to be one of the two times of year when the “Veil Between Worlds” is the thinnest (the other being Samhain.) According to legend, the fairies and forest spirits are especially active on the night of the summer solstice, and honey is favorite treat.

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Get Back To Nature

Go for a hike in the woods with your family. Enjoy the sounds and sights of nature. Take lots of pictures, or plan a scavenger hunt—have each of the kids bring a "nature bag" to fill up. Remember, don't pick any live plants, unless you're deliberately wildcrafting.

Before you head out, grab a field guide to local plants, and turn it into a teaching exercise, learn to identify what you see out there in the woods. If you take your hike in a public park, bring along a plastic sack to help pick up garbage on your way. If you get the chance to do this alone, try a Nature Meditation in a quiet spot somewhere on your journey.

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Go Camping

If you’re feeling adventurous, but don’t want to leave luxury behind, try glamping and spend a night under the stars in style.

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Get Your Body Moving

Litha is a magical, mystical time of year. Why not host a drum circle or spiral dance? You'll need a large group for this, but it's a lot of fun once you get everyone moving. In addition to being entertaining (and a great stress reliever), a drum circle or a ritualized dance serves another purpose—that of raising energy.

The more you build, the more people will feed off of it. Invite a group of friends over, let them know there will be music and dance, and see what happens. Be sure to provide refreshments for afterwards—drumming and dancing can be draining for some people.

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Go Wildflower Picking

Identify and harvest some wildflowers to use in your summer spell work. Press them in your Book of Shadows if you have one.

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Do Something For Others

Do something for charity. Organize a yard sale and donate the proceeds to a local homeless shelter. Collect gently used summer clothing and give to a local children's hospital. Host a dog-wash for your favorite shelter, and ask customers to either donate cash or pet food. Plan a neighborhood cleanup, and trim and weed common areas in your community. If you don't have time to coordinate a big project—and not everyone does—do things on a smaller scale.

Visit an elderly neighbour and help with her housekeeping. Offer to do grocery shopping for an ill relative. If you know a mom with a brand-new baby, help out with childcare so she can get a few hours of rest. There are any number of things you can do to help others, and with the days being longer, there's plenty of time to get things done!

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Read A Good Book

Summer can be a hectic and chaotic time of year. Maybe you're someone who needs to slow down and take a break. Litha is a good time to rejuvenate, so why not sit out in the sunshine and immerse yourself in a good book. Keep reading material handy all the time, so when you need a little down time, you can work through few pages. If your local library has a summer reading program, sign up.

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Attend A Summer Festival

Litha is the week for pagan festivals. Find one. Attend it. You’ll have a blast, I promise.

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Celebrate Family

Turn off the phone, step away from the computer and television, and spend time just having fun with the people who love you most. Take the day off work if possible and spend it any way you like—go to the zoo, a museum, a ball game, etc. Make this a day that you can do anything you want, and put the schedules away just for one day.

If you're worried that money might hold you back, there's plenty of stuff you can do for free: check your local metro parks for activity schedules, go fishing at a nearby lake or river, and watch the local newspaper for free admission deals at nearby attractions. If getting away for a day isn't possible for you, spend the afternoon at home—play board games, do jigsaw puzzles, and cook a meal together.

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Make A Batch Of Sun Cakes

If you’re a kitchen witch, celebrate this Sabbat by baking! Sun cakes are perfect for the “cakes and ale” portion of a Litha ritual if you celebrate with a coven, or you can use them for offering.

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Clean Things Up

Clean your house. Take advantage of the warm weather to have a garage sale and get rid of all those things you don't want. You can also organize a swap with your friends, or donate all your stuff to charities like Goodwill or Salvation Army. You've got plenty of daylight at Litha, so you can accomplish a lot in just a short period of time.

If your house is a bit daunting, select one room to work on at a time—preferably the one that needs the most help! Wash windows, wipe down baseboards, get rid of stuff you know you'll never use. Organize as you clean, putting donatable items into one pile, and trash in another, so you don't have to sort it later. Turn the project into a ritual with a House Cleaning Rite.

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Make Herbal Candle Rings With Herbs

For the green witch : with your herb garden in full swing, it’s time to make some creative use of it.

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Host A Barbeque For Friends And Family

Have a barbecue, and invite all your family and friends over. Decorate with colors of the sun—yellows, reds, and oranges. Feast on lots of summery food, like watermelons, strawberries, and fresh green salads. Add outdoor games like horseshoes, ladder golf, and backyard volleyball.

While you're at it, set up some kind of water activities—water balloons, super soakers, a pool to splash in. All of these are great outside activities in the heat of summer, and help celebrate the balance between fire and water, as well as welcoming friends and family to celebrate the season.

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Try Cloud Scrying

Find a warm, grassy spot and look up to see what messages the sky might have for you.

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Learn & Grow

Spend some time on spiritual growth. Use this time of year to learn something new about your tradition, develop a new skill, or take a class in Tarot, Reiki, yoga, or whatever appeals to you. Create a daily plan of study to help you focus on what it is you want to do next. You've got plenty of extra hours of daylight this time of year, so there are no excuses.

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Visit A Honey Farm

If you’re not allergic to bees (or deathly afraid of them!) this is a nice activity. Be sure to stock up while you’re there.

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Honor The Season

Many ancient cultures marked the summer solstice with rites and rituals honoring the sun. Celebrate the significance of Midsummer with ritual and prayers that recognize the sun and its magnificent power. Set up your Litha altar with symbols of the season—solar symbols, candles, midsummer fruits and vegetables, and more.

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Article Sources :

https://moodymoons.com/2016/06/15/10-ways-to-celebrate-litha-2/ https://www.learnreligions.com/great-ways-to-celebrate-litha-2562249

#Litha #Summer Solstice #Wiccan holidays #Wiccan sabbaths #Summer #Wicca #Wiccan #Pagan #Paganism #Witch #Witchy #Witchblr #Witches of Tumblr

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

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Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic

Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!

Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!

Twelve months.

Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.

The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.

He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.

The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.

He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.

Still asleep.

With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.

“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”

He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.

Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.

Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.

For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]

He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.

Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.

“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.

He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”

“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.

The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.

He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—

Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.

With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.

“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”

“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.

“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”

Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.

“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”

When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]

He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”

Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”

The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”

The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”

He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.

“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”

They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…

“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”

He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.

With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.

He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.

“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”

Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…

“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”

“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”

The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”

Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.

“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.

“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.

“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”

He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”

“You can stay.”

He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.

“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”

“Just tonight then.”

His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”

“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”

“I…to…water the plants?”

“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”

Well. What could he say to that?

Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”

“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”

“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.

The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”

A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”

Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...

Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.

“Sleep well, Crowley.”

[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season. [2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon. [3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel. [4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.

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bonnyskies · 4 years ago

Text

second chances ⇢ pjm

every saturday, the same blonde-haired man comes to your flower shop and purchases the same type of flowers, pink carnations. the symbol of mourning.

pairing — jimin x florist!malereader ft. soulmate!namjoon

genre — fluff, angst, non idol au, strangers to lovers au, soulmates au, unrequited love-ish au

warnings — angst, swearing, mentions of death, some violence and blood, jimin and the reader are both in pain for slightly different reasons, namjoon is a dick, and tiny mentions of sex

requested by — @btslovely

author’s note — thank you for requesting this, i’ve had lots of fun writing this and kind of went overboard, and i hope you enjoy this.

word count — 4.8k

masterlist

“He’s here again.”

The moment you heard those words, you glanced up from your phone and landed on the person your friend was speaking about, your eyes landing on the same blonde-haired man that has been coming to your shop every Saturday for the past year.

He’s attractive was your first thought when you saw him, but all those thoughts instantly vanished when your eyes landed on the metal band around his finger. Of course, he’s married. Someone as good looking as him wouldn’t be single, he probably found his soulmate easily since he caught just about anyone’s eye whenever he would just brush past them. Those admiring thoughts you had of him was then replaced with envy. Judging from his appearance, he looked be around your age and he has already found his soulmate and is married. It wasn’t fair how some people can find their happy ending without difficultly while you were still alone, struggling to find yours.

It wasn’t your fault though. Your soulmate just doesn’t want you. It hurt, knowing that the one person you’re destined to be with doesn’t even want to be with you.

Owning your own flower shop was just another slap to the face, having to watch people come everyday, smiles on their faces as they bought all kinds of flowers for their soulmates. Sometimes you thought about even closing down your shop, not wanting to have to deal with the pain anymore. But whenever you saw him, all those thoughts went away. His smile never failed to make your cheeks blush, his voice soothing your aching heart, and his wide, captivating eyes taking your breath away. He gave you hope, hope that one day you’ll find someone that’ll love you—even if they aren’t your soulmate.

But that all changed one day, five months ago, when he came back and a smile didn’t decorate his face, instead an emotionless frown was there. Dark bags were evident underneath his eyes, and his skin was paler than normal, no longer their cgorgeously tan color. He looked almost dead.

That day he didn’t get a bouquet of red roses like he usually would. Instead, he bought a single pink carnation.

The symbol of mourning.

“Hi, Jimin.” You greeted him, smiling softly. The blonde haired man didn’t say anything back, only flashed you an obvious forced smile. “Here’s your order,” you then slid him the single pink carnation protected in a plastic wrapping. And again, he didn’t say anything, only slid you his credit card which you quickly swiped into the machine and gave it back to him. He then took the single carnation and gave you a nod before leaving.

You sighed, shoulders sinking as you watched your shop’s door close behind him.

The rest of the day went slowly after that. When closing your shop, the bright, clear skies was now cloudy and storming, rain pouring down and thunder rippling across the night sky.

Just as you were about to leave, you nearly felt your heart burst from your chest when seeing Jimin standing outside your shop’s door, completely drenched from head to toe. “Oh my god,” you gasped, rushing towards the door and unlocking it and pulling him inside. “Jimin, what are you doing—”

“I need another carnation!” He suddenly cried out, eyes-wide, and that’s when you noticed that his face wasn’t stained with rain water, but with tears. “I need—”

“Okay, hold on.” You interrupted him, ushering towards a chair to sit down. “You’re soaking wet, let me go and get a towel for you.”

After going to the storage room and coming back with a single white towel, you draped the clean material over Jimin’s shoulder, noticing the way his body tenses when your fingers accidentally brush over his arm. “There,” you flashed him a small smile as you sat down beside him. “Now, what happened?”

“I lost the carnation,” he answered bluntly, a frown expressed on his lips. “I need a new one.”

“Oh, how did you lose it?” You questioned, a curious glint in your eyes as you shifted in your seat so that you were facing him completely.

Jimin’s mouth opened but no words came out, only soft, uneasy breaths. “I-I just lost it. Can you give me another one? I’ll pay you any price that you want, please?”

This time, it was your turn to frown. “I’m sorry,” your lips dropped sympathetically at him. “That was my last pink carnation. I don’t get another shipment of flowers until tomorrow. Can you wait until then—”

Jimin was already shaking his head vigorously, tearing the damp towel away from his shoulders and standing up from his seat. “No,” he answered, voice cracked. “I-I can’t wait until then. I have to do this tonight!” He exclaimed, chest heaving up and down as his voice began to raise.

You sighed, running your hand frustratingly through your hair. “Well, since I’m out of pink carnations, I’m sure we can find something else you’ll like in the back.” And without any warning, you instinctively reached over and grabbed Jimin’s hand, and forced him to follow you to your shop’s storage room. You were completely unaware of the his wide eyes staring at your guys’ conjoined hands, or the hints of blush on his pale cheeks.

“How about gypsophilas?” You asked the moment you both stepped inside the storage room, the only light source being a barely lit lightbulb. “They symbolize sweetness, or everlasting love,” you informed while reaching inside one of the cabinets and pulling out a single light green-colored flower. “Or how about lillies?” You then took out a pink-colored flower with small specks of white on it. “They can symbolize purity, unity, greatness—perfect for soulmates.”

“I-I don’t know,” Jimin answered stutteringly after observing the two different flowers for a short amount of time. “What do you think?”

You simply shrugged, “I’m not sure. These are for your soulmate, remember? Not mine.” You attempted to tease, but still couldn’t help but feel your heart ache from your words. Here you were, standing in your shop’s dimly lit storage room at eleven at night with this handsome stranger that you’ve been pining after for more than a year, helping him decided which flowers to get for his soulmate while you were still alone, soulmate-less. “Just choose the one that best describes them.”

“Right, okay.” Jimin agreed, and for the first time in five months you’ve seen him actually smile. To be fair, it was small—almost unnoticeable but still, you were able to see it. “I’ll take the gypsophilas. Everlasting love, right?” You nodded. “Perfect.”

Before Jimin could even take out his wallet, you were already stopping him, hands grasping onto his wrist. “No, you don’t have to pay. It’s on the house.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, smiiing softly. “Yeah, trust me. It’s okay. I’m not going to go out of business for giving one flower away for free.” Even though he didn’t smile, his eyes were enough to show you that he was grateful. There goes your heart again, beating roughly and sending electric sparks throughout your entire body.

“Thank you,” came out of Jimin’s mouth softly.

“But you have to do something for me, then.” Jimin’s eyes then softened, brows raised questioningly. “You have to stay here until the storm calms down.” You ordered him, “The road is barely visible with how hard it’s raining and I don’t want you driving out there.”

Jimin opened his mouth to argue, but when seeing the obvious concern in your eyes, his heart clenched inside his chest. He hasn’t had someone care about him in a long time. “Okay.”

You smiled, bowing your head appreciatingly before leaving the storage room with Jimin following closely behind, returning back to your seats beside the shop’s entrance. As you both patiently waited for the storm to ease up, neither of you spoke a word to the other, silently watching the rain pour from the dark, cloudy skies. It wasn’t an awkward silence, more calming, comfortable.

When morning came, you found yourself in your shop’s storage room again, laying on the old couch you kept inside meant for breaks and a slightly dirty blanket draped over you. You don’t remember falling asleeping last night, and how did you get here? The last thing you remember was sitting by the shop’s entrance with Jimin—you froze. Did Jimin carry you in here? And was he the one that gave you this blanket?

You didn’t have time to comprehend your situation because next thing your eyes landed on was a note taped beside you on the couch’s armrest.

“Thank you for the flower again. - Jimin.”

You didn’t see Jimin again until next Saturday, and this time he wasn’t alone. A man, probably only two inches taller than him with charcoal colored hair was beside him as they both entered your shop.

“Hey, Jimin!” You greeted loudly, heart fluttering when seeing the blonde-haired man give you a small grin in return. “Who’s your friend?”

“Seokjin,” his friend politely answered for him, smiling and holding his hand out. “And who may you be?”

“{Name}.” You replied, shaking his hand.

Seokjin’s eyes then widened, shifting his gaze towards Jimin for a brief moment before returning back to you. “Oh, so you’re {Name}? Jimin has told me a lot about you, but he never told me how cute you are—”

“Alright,” Jimin interjected, stepping forward, eyes glaring at his friend then softening when turning towards you. “I’m here for my pink carnation. You have more, right?” He asked, pulling out his credit card.

“Yes, I do.” You nodded, bending down and taking out a neatly wrapped carnation from underneath the cash register and placing it onto the counter. “I’ve already got it prepared for you.”

“Thank you,” Jimin smiled softly, grabbing the carnation and watching you swipe his card into the system before taking it back.

“It’s no problem, and thank you.” You responded, earning a confused stare from him. “For carrying me into the back room last Saturday, and for the blanket—”

“Oh, yeah.” Jimin’s eyes widened, remembering. “I-It’s nothing,” he shrugged his shoulders, voice slightly stuttery and cheeks flushed.

You felt yourself smile at the sound of his uneasy voice. He almost sounded flustered. “Well,” you clasped your hands together. “That’s everything, I guess. I’ll see you next Saturday—”

The sound of your shop’s door suddenly opening cut you off, the bronze bell hanging above the frame ringing loudly. “Hello, welcome—” you paused when seeing who was entering your shop. It was a happy couple, the man being none other than Kim Namjoon, your soulmate. And beside him, fingers laced together with his was his girlfriend of two years, Jeon Ara. Or in your mind, the person he chose over his own soulmate.

Almost as if she was sensing your discomfort, your friend, Eunae placed her hand onto your shoulder and whispered, “Go rest inside the back room, I’ll handle this.” You only nodded, briefly glancing towards Jimin before retreating inside storage room.

The sad expression on your face wasn’t hard to notice by Jimin, worry flowing through his veins as he watched you leave from his sight. He wanted to ask what’s wrong, but you were already out of his sight. Once you were gone, Jimin’s eyes shifted to where your heartbroken stare was focused on, raising a brow curiously when his gaze landed on purple-haired man.

“Namjoon,” Jimin could hear the venom in your friend’s voice as she glared at the other man. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“What do you think?” He rolled his eyes, jaw clenching. “I’m here to get my beautiful girlfriend some flowers.” The girl beside him then giggled loudly, the sound of her squeaky laughter making Jimin and Seokjin cringe along with Eunae.

“Out of all the flower shops in Seoul, you had to come to this one? {Name}’s shop!” Eunae spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jimin could only watch the exchange between the two people happen, eyes shifting from Eunae and this so-called, Namjoon repeatedly as they argued with each other. Jimin knew this wasn’t any of his business, but when seeing your heartbroken face, that...bothered him. Everytime he was around you, you were always so happy, uplifting, spirited, and that concerned him when just the sight of him turned you into a completely different person.

This Namjoon guy hurt you, badly. And Jimin didn’t know if he was just an old friend, or an ex-boyfriend, or anything of that sort. He doesn’t why he wants to know, he just does. As his eyes scanned the taller man’s body, his questions were then answered when they landed on his left wrist, which is where the name of your soulmate is usually tattooed on.

Your name was on his wrist. Namjoon was your soulmate?

“Well, this place has the largest selection.” Namjoon’s voice broke Jimin out of his thoughts, bringing himself back to reality. “And my girl deserves the absolute best.”

“Wow.” Eunae scoffed, tilting her head back as she released a sarcastic laugh. “You already made it very clear to {Name} that you rejected him as your soulmate, and yet you decide to keep hurting him by coming here—”

“Listen,” Namjoon cut her off, voice laced with annoyance. “I’m a paying customer, so how about you quit being a bitch and let me do some shopping, okay? Okay.”

That made Jimin step forward and place his hand in front of Namjoon, stopping him. “Hey, man. You shouldn’t talk to someone like that, especially a girl—”

“Who the hell are you?” Namjoon snapped, eyed glaring at him.

“Jimin.” Jimin simply answered, lowering his hand back down to his side. “You should apologize to her. It’s not right for you to—”

“Wait,” Namjoon once again, interrupted him. “I’ve seen you before.” That caused Jimin to raise his brow confusingly. “Yeah, you’re Park Jimin! You were on the news like five months ago, something about being in a car accident.” Jimin could feel his heart stopping in his chest. “How are you doing man? I’ve heard about your loss, I’m sorry about Tae...”

Namjoon’s voice became faint as the only sound Jimin could hear was his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears. He didn’t what became of him, but next thing he knew his fist was colliding into Namjoon’s jaw.

Jimin vision was completely consumed by red as his fists repeatedly crashed down onto the taller man’s face. He didn’t realize how long he was beating him until he felt someone’s hands on his shoulders and pulling him back, completely unaware who that person was.

“Jimin, stop!” It was you.

When regaining his vision, Jimin could finally see the damage he caused. Namjoon’s face was utterly fucked. An evident bruise was already forming around his right eye and blood was spewing from his nose.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Namjoon spat, wiping the blood that stained his lips as he weakly stood back up onto his feet. “You’re fucking insane, you hear me!”

Jimin was a split second away from charging back at him, but when feeling your small hand against his heaving chest and seeing your tear-stained eyes staring up at him, his entire demeanor instantly softened. Before he had the chance to say anything, you were already pulling him away and into the back room, leaving Eunae and Seokjin with Namjoon and his girlfriend.

“What the fuck, Jimin?” You instantly shouted once you closed the door behind you, reaching for the first aid kit that hung on the wall.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jimin mumbles out, head hanging low in embarrassment as he sat down on the same couch he laid you on last week. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You sighed, opening the first aid kit and taking out some disinfectant and bandages.

When taking his injured hand into yours and observing his blood-stained knuckles, you couldn’t help but notice the name on his wrist. His soulmate’s name.

Taehyung, it read.

But this one was different. The name wasn’t bold and define like everyone else’s, but instead was faint, almost vanishing. Tearing your eyes away from his wrist, you glanced up at Jimin to see him already staring down at you. Judging from his soft, emotional eyes, you knew that he knew you noticed it too.

Neither of you spoke a word about it.

Bandaging his hand didn’t take long. And once your were finished, Jimin left with Seokjin without saying a single word, leaving you speechless and alone with your thoughts.

“Well, {Name}’s cute,” was the first thing that came out of Seokjin’s mouth the moment he and Jimin exited your shop, walking down the sidewalk. “Why don’t you ask him out?”

Jimin stopped, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin nodded, lips frowning sympathetically. “Come on, man. It’s been almost half a year. He wouldn’t want you like this, he would want you to move on.”

“It’s not that easy, Jin.” Jimin sighed, already feeling tears swelling up in his eyes. Yes, it’s been half a year—precisely five months, two weeks and three days, since he’s been with anyone but how could you move on from your soulmate? Someone that you were destined to be with forever.

“Is it?” Seokjin pestered, “For the past few months you’ve been gushing to me about how nice, funny and smart he is. How seeing him is the only thing you look forward to every week.” Seokjin continued to list, using his fingers to count each one.

Jimin lowered his head, lips trembling. “I-I can’t, Jin.” The thought of starting over again, getting close to someone, and loving them, terrified him. He didn’t—doesn’t want to get hurt again, ever again. “I just can’t.”

Seokjin frowned, sighing. “I’m just saying, man. You deserve to be happy again.”

You couldn’t believe you were here.

Sitting alone in some restaurant, a half-filled glass of white wine in one hand as you stared at your untouched plate of caesar salad. You shouldn’t have listened to Eunae. You shouldn’t have let her set you up on a blind date with one her friends. Her exact words being, “you haven’t been with anyone for years now, sexually or romantically, and you need some dick for your lonely ass!”

And she was right. You haven’t been in any sort of relationship with someone for three years, let alone been touched by anyone for that long. Your body was aching for attention.

But of course, you weren’t so lucky. This so-called blind date was a no show. So here you were, surrounded by many couples enjoying each other’s company while you sat alone, embarrassingly.

This night couldn’t get any worse.

After paying for your untouched meal, you practically marched out of the restaurant. You just wanted to go home and sleep, and forget this day never happened.

As you walked down the narrow sidewalk, your steps slowed down when your eyes happened to land on a familiar set of blonde-hair. Even though you couldn’t see his face, he looked familiar. “Jimin?”

The man stopped, and when turning around your eyes widened. It was Jimin, and he looked incredibly handsome. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt with a black leather jacket over it, and a pair of black ripped jeans that made his muscular thighs look more define—you had to stop. “Jimin, what are you doing out so late?”

“I was out with friends,” he simply answered, shoving his hands into his pant’s pockets. “We were drinking together at some bar down the street, catching up and now I’m heading home.” He then continued to walk, pausing briefly to see if you were going to follow—which you did, quickening your footsteps so that you were now beside him. “How about you? Why are you out this late?”

“I had a date—well, suppose to have one,” you quickly corrected, shrugging. “Eunae set me up with one of her friends, but they didn’t show.” With your head down and staring at the concrete ground, you missed the way Jimin’s shoulders tensed at the word ‘date’ coming out of your mouth.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s nothing,” you dismissed, shaking your head. “I really didn’t even want to go out on this date in the first place, but Eunae thought it would be a good idea since I haven’t been on one for years.”

Jimin raised a brow, “It’s been that long?”

You nodded,” Yeah, haven’t been on a date since my junior year of college—sad, right?” Your voice sounded teasingly but the small frown your lips gave your true feelings away. “It’s not like any of my future relationship will end happily anyway.”

That gained Jimin’s attention, causing him to shift his gaze away from the sidewalk and towards you. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s plainly obvious that any relationship I’ll have won’t end well,” You started, sighing. “Everyone has a soulmate, Jimin. And when they leave to be with them, I’ll be the one left alone, heartbroken.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a single tear escape from your eyes and slide down your cheeks. “It’s hopeless to date.”

Jimin agreed, no doubt. Being with someone who isn’t the person you’re destined to be with is...pointless. “Yeah, that’s true. What’s the point in dating anyone other than your soulmate?” He asked rhetorically.

Again, you found yourself glancing at his wrist, staring at the faint, almost unrecognizable letters that spelled Taehyung. And again, you chose not to say anything about it.

Silence consumed the both of you, neither knowing what to say to the other. With it being near eleven, you two were the only ones on the street, everyone mostly like already at home and in a deep sleep. Even though the only sound that could be heard were your footsteps, you swore you could hear the sound of your heart against your chest. This is the longest time you’ve spent with Jimin, your previous encounters being only minutes long—excluding the night you spent at your shop, and you were nervous.

Jimin’s everything you dreamt your soulmate being. Smart, funny, handsome, intelligent. But instead you were cursed with having one like Kim Namjoon, the man who chose his girlfriend over his own soulmate. The one who verbally abused you in front of your friends, saying—screaming how he’ll never be with another man, commenting on how disgusting the thought was. You remember that night distinctly. You remember how you spent many nights crying, blaming, asking the gods why you were cursed with such a terrible soulmate. Why everyone all around you was gifted with love and affection while you were forced to be alone.

Noticing your silence, Jimin asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Breaking you away from your thoughts, you answered with a simple nod, lips formed into a straight line. “Jimin,” you suddenly spoke up, “If you had the chance to fall in love again, to be happy with someone, would you take it?”

The question made Jimin’s heart stop and eyes widen. He was speechless.

You hated yourself for asking him that, but you had to know. You’re alone, the both of you are. And you’re tired of that. You liked Jimin, maybe even loved him—and a part of you knew he felt something for you too, but you have to know for sure whether or not he reciprocated those feelings. Because if not, you didn’t want to waste your time chasing something that you’ll never get in return. You had enough of unrequited love. And when seeing his wide-eyed expression, you could hear your heart quickening.

“I-I don’t know.” And that was enough to break your heart until thousands of pieces.

“Okay,” was the only you could say, voice wavering as tears were building up in your eyes. You then continued to walk in silence, eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of you, ignoring the wandering gaze Jimin would send your way.

When arriving at your apartment complex, Jimin was still with you and neither of you couldn’t even look at each other in the eyes at this point. You knew after the conversation you two had nothing would be the same anymore. The complicated friendship—if you can even call it that, will be different. “Well,” you were the first to speak, voice low and gaze focused on the ground instead of the handsome blonde man in front of you. “Goodnight.”

Jimin’s heart clenched inside his chest as he saw you flash probably the most fakest smile you’ve ever made. He knew that because he’s seen your real smiles before and this was not it. This smile was a disguise to hide the pain you were feeling. The pain he caused.

Jimin wanted to reach out for you, stop you before you entered your apartment complex, but he didn’t—couldn’t. His feet was frozen to the ground, unable to move. He could only watch as you entered the building and close the door behind you, separating you from him, both physically and mentally.

Just as he was about leave, he found himself staring back at the building’s door. Seokjin’s words began to echo his head, “You deserve to be happy again.”

You make him happy. Seeing you was—is the highlight of every week. Seeing your heartwarming smile, hearing your soothing voice never failed to make his heart skip a beat and eyes shine with adoration whenever they laid on you. You’re one of the few things left in this world that he still looks forward to.

“Fuck,” Jimin groaned, tilting his head back as tears began to prick his eyes. Again, Seokjin’s words echoed his mind.

“You deserve to be happy.” He deserves to be happy—he wants to be happy.

Next thing Jimin knew, he was pushing through your building’s entrance and rushing to the elevator where you stood patiently.

You turned around at the sound of the building’s door opening abruptly, raising a brow confusingly when seeing Jimin approaching you at a fast pace. “Jimin, what are you—”

“I like you!”

Your eyes widened at his sudden confession, lips parted and heart stammering inside your chest. You were speechless.

“I like you, {Name}—a lot.” Jimin stopped when he was in front of you, inches away, eyes shimmering with tears. “And that terrifies me, because the last person I felt this strongly for was my soulmate and he’s...,” Jimin suddenly choked up, voice cracking. “And I’m scared that one day, you’ll end up deciding that you don’t love me anymore since I’m not your soulmate, and I can’t deal with the thought of losing another person I lo—care about,” he quickly corrected himself, lowering his head and swallowing the anxious lump forming in the back of his throat. Jimin was now crying, tears falling from his eyes and sliding down his pale cheeks.

The sight broke your heart.

“Jimin,” you gently cupped his face into your palm, forcing his tear-stained eyes to meet yours. “I like you too.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, his glistening eyes slightly widening.

Without saying anything, you leaned forward and pressed your lips softly onto his. You expected him to pull away, but he began to kiss back instead, his hands situated on your waist as he moved his lips gently against yours.

You never thought this day would ever come. Kissing Park Jimin, the man you’ve been chasing after for months was kissing you. When pulling away, you could feel his fingers digging into your waist, eyes still slightly closed. “Are you sure?”

Jimin nodded without hesitation, “I’ve never been more sure than I am right now.”

And with that, your lips were back onto his.

Next morning, Jimin was the first to wake up, the blinding sunlight shining through the bedroom’s—your bedroom’s thin curtains being the reason. He slept over last night.

As Jimin slowly regained his vision, his eyes traveled down to his bare chest where your head was currently resting, soft breaths leaving your lips. He couldn’t help but watch you sleep, his heart fluttering inside his chest as he began to reminiscence what happened the previous night.

The way you two stumbled into your apartment, lips moving together in sync as you eagerly stripped each other’s clothes off. The way you felt underneath him, moaning and whimpering as your fingers dug into the flesh of his skin. The way you two whispered sweet words to the other while sharing passionate kisses inbetween. And the most important one, the way you felt in his arms as you slept in each other’s embrace.

Jimin hasn’t felt his way in a long time. You made the once dark, cruel world that he thought it was light again.

As he silently watched you sleep, his attention suddenly shifted when his eyes caught something...interesting on his wrist. Below the faded, nearly gone letters that spelt Taehyung’s name was a brand new name. This name was tattooed on his wrist in bold, define letters, like the ones that normal people had of their soulmate.

It was your name.

Jimin couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips, eyes briefly glancing down at your sleeping figure before returning back to your name on his wrist. The new, pristine letters that decorated his pale skin making his heart skip a beat.

You’re his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

#bonnyskies #bts #bts au #bts angst #park jimin #park jimin au #park jimin angst #park jimin x reader #park jimin x male reader #jimin #jimin au #jimin angst #jimin x reader #jimin x male reader #kpop au #kpop angst #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader

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malumsmermaid · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Dream or a Beautiful Nightmare?

Happy Halloween everyone! This is the halloween event fic for the collab discord!

I chose the prompt of “Person A sells their soul to Person B, a crossroads demon,” for Mashton.

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Demon Michael x Ashton

Description: So I made this an alternate timeline. 5SOS is still 5SOS, but, they don’t really take off until after Ashton is already 18, and Ashton joins the band much earlier than Michael does, for the sake of the prompt and my plans.

Warnings: Demons, mentions of death

Event Masterlist My Masterlist Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Ashton took a deep breath, giving the book and bag of supplies sitting in his passenger seat an anxious glance. He’d bought the spell book from a local used bookstore months ago, assuring his two friends that it was just as a joke. This week however, curiosity and desperation took over, leading him to dig through his closet until he found the note-laden spell book, still in the bag it was placed in the day it was purchased.

He steeled himself, grabbing the book and bag and turning off his car, climbing out and taking sure steps towards the intersection of the streets. He grabbed chalk from the plastic bag, trying not to look too long at the other ingredients for the summoning. He set the book next to him on the ground, shivering as it fell open to the exact page he needed. “Okay Ash,” he breathed, “get yourself together and let’s do it, for the boys. Six guitarists in six months is fucking ridiculous.”

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him.

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds.

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world.

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it “feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness.

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words.

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.”

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed.

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through.

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road.

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there.

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight.

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

Tag List: @irwinkitten @calpops @goth5sos @wildflowergrae @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @notinthesameguey @superbloomirwin @sexgodashton @castaway-cashton @treatallwithkindness @theyorthemrecords @another-lonely-heart @ghostofmashton @opheliaaurora23 @loxerofmine @youngblood199456 @megz1985 @strawberriesonsummer

Slash Tag List: @tigerteeff

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#michael clifford #ashton irwin #mashton #michael clifford angst #ashton irwin angst #demon!michael #mashton angst #michael clifford 5 seconds of summer #michael clifford 5sos #ashton irwin 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin 5sos #michael 5 seconds of summer #ashton 5 seconds of summer #michael 5sos #ashton 5sos #michael clifford fluff #ashton irwin fluff #mashton fluff

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prismatales · 5 years ago

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Baby? (Yagi Toshinori)

Anon:could you do one where all might finds out his girlfriend/fiance is pregnant even though they thought she would never be able to have children? 👉👈

How dare you hit me in the feels Anon...I love you

...This had to be a joke...right?

Those two pink lines had to be some mistake, a sick joke from the 10% chance of inaccuracy from the pregnancy test clutched tightly in your shaking hands, breath coming out in shaky puffs just from looking at the dreaded plastic stick.

Why did the universe enjoyed torturing you and Toshi so much?

After years and years of trying, of taking overwhelmingly nasty home remedies, fertility treatments and going from clinic to clinic, you and your then boyfriend had given up on the dream of having a child together after the last medical check-up, hearing the news from the doctor together with that damned look full of pity on her face didn't help the situation one bit the moment she gave you the diagnosis.

"I'm really sorry to be the bearer of such disheartening news, but based on the results...It's highly unlikely you'll manage to conceive a child..."

That was five years ago, and each and every single time you stumbled upon the children's section at stores that heaviness inside would always come back, each time more painful than the last one in cruel mockery.

So...Why did you let Midnight talk you into taking this cursed test into the first place after seeing you rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach for the third time that week, considering that by this point the answer would be more than obvious and you knew it better than anyone?

"What does the test say Y/N?" Nemuri's voice could was heard from the other side of the door, she could hear you pacing back and forth through the small room.

"It's says it's a god damn joke!" She could hear you yelling, if anyone came in the small bathroom they'd quickly notice how much you were trembling, tears dangerously close to come out from all the emotions growing inside of you at the same time...along with the small life inside of you.

If there's really something, or rather someone growing in there...

"Are you serious?!" Midnight yelled out in excitement and opened the door, but her expression faltered a bit when she saw you sitting in the toilet while glaring at the test in your hands with a look of doubt.

Both fear and happiness radiated off your whole being, happy at the idea of finally being able to become a parent alongside your now fiance, but you were also afraid it was only a false alarm, you knew the possible outcome that would come should this be just some fake hope. Toshi and you would definitely be devastated, it was already hard enough the fist time you got the news that having a baby would be nearly impossible...so if this was just a mistake you weren't sure if the both of you could take it.

"I'm scared Midnight..." Your hands grasped your head stressfully, afraid this was just a dream or some sick joke "What if it's just a false alarm? I don't think Toshi and I will be able to handle it..."

She quickly crouched down in front of your nervous self, hands caressing your shoulders comfortingly, she knows how sensitive this subject really was for both you and Yagi, so it's natural for you to be so afraid of stepping inside another clinic just to be let down once again. Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration the only thing left to do was face this current situation and see what happens, dwelling in fear won't give you the answer you're looking for.

"I may not understand how you're feeling right now, but I'll assure you everything's going to be alright...besides, think about it from this perspective" She stood up in front of you with a smile "Isn't it a coincidence that you guys are finally going to be a happy little family after he retired?"

...Midnight had a good point, why did this happen right after Toshi officially retired as the symbol of peace and Number One hero? Maybe it was some kind of signal, telling you this was the perfect time to bring a little one to this world, the small flicker of hope inside you kept growing and growing, reassuring you everything would be fine.

You were not aware your hand was caressing the spot where the little one was growing, not until the thought of giving Toshi the news came to mind, a smile crept upon your face at the idea of telling him that before he'd realize there would be somebody around calling him "Papa", probably wearing one of his characteristics hero Onesie.

The fit of giggles that came out couldn't be contained, the mental image of a mini Toshi stumbling around the house as they struggled to follow their father around the house was too cute to handle, and Nerumi knew just what you were thinking just by looking at your face.

"I need to surprise him, would you help me plan something?" She smiled brightly by your question.

"Thought you'd never ask!"

..........

......

...

Yagi Toshinori came home with exhaustion running though his whole body after today's training session with class 1-A and his training with Midoriya, in that moment his one and only desire was to die into bed to have a well deserved rest and possibly spend some time with his lovely Y/N before delving into the land of dreams.

Especially after he barely had time so see you that morning because of the stomach bug you apparently caught most likely due to the takeout ordered from that new place, he'd have to make sure to send a complain if by any chance his fiance's condition happened to get worse.

"I am home!" His voice came out mixed with a soft laughter, ever amused by the little call you always enjoyed to hear every time he came home, living together was quite an adventure, something full of excitement, happiness and joy, it was something that you wouldn't change for anything in the world.

"I am in the kitchen!" You call back with enthusiasm, there's something that has you in a good mood it seems, considering you're not waiting for him in the living room reading that book you love so much with that look of serenity that always manages to put him in a good mood even with all the current events, it's something worth adoring that could make even the most stoic of persons remember we're just humans after all.

Despite the exhaustion coursing thought every inch of his body Toshinori make his way to the kitchen in a steady yet slow pace, nothing but curiosity driving each step, thoughts deep in wonder...what exactly happened that has you in such a euphoric mood? Not that he doesn't like it, but today there's something else boosting that happy mood.

Stepping inside the kitchen he's met with an unusual sight, in the first place there's a small pastel yellow gift bag sitting on top of the table, and you're sitting on the other side of the table, chin resting over your hands which are resting over the wooden surface, there's such a bright smile on your face it could illuminate even the darkest of nights, it's been a while since the last time he saw you smiling that brightly.

The last time he saw that kind of smile was probably when he proposed two years ago.

"Welcome home Toshi! How did class go today?" You asked cheerfully, a glint in those E/C colored eyes hinted for an incoming surprise, a big one by the looks of it so he played along with it to see just what kind of stuff you were going to pull out.

"Hard as usual, those kids are going to become some of the greatest heroes the world has ever seen" Yagi pulled out the chair in front of you and took a seat "Young Midoriya's improving greatly as well...if only she could see his improvement as well..."

His voice dropped quickly and it was so easy to figure out why exactly, after all he told you everything about Nana and the history with All for One, it was clear as water talking about this would always be a sensitive subject for Yagi.

You were quick to comfort him, standing up and softly wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind "I'm sure Nana's watching everything from above...and even though we were unable to meet each other, I can assure you that she's proud of you and Midoriya"

Yagi's hands caressed your own and gripped it back carefully, it was his own way of thanking his love for being there for him despite everything that's happened so far, that's the very reason that made Yagi make up his mind the day he proposed, that's why he wanted you alongside him for whatever time he had left on earth.

"But enough of that, you have a surprise I do not want to ruin with my pessimist mood, what got my dear fiance in such a good mood?" He turns around in his spot to take a good look at your face, despite the recent conversation that smile is still there and doesn't seem to go away.

Pecking Yagi on the cheek before releasing him from the hug, the first thing you did was grab the gift bag in front of him before shaking it with enthusiasm, the sight was almost like watching a child getting riled up about their birthday present and was enough to make Yagi release a full fledged laugh at the way his fiance behaved.

"I got a surprise for you! And trust me when I say you did NOT see this coming!"

You hand him the bag before rushing for the phone to get his reaction on camera, it leaves him wary at first thinking it must be a prank, but on the other hand this good mood you're in it's more than enough proof it's something important.

"Should I expect something jumping at my face?" He chuckles.

"Just open your gift and take a look for yourself!" Your giggles are contagious, and with that motivation Yagi caves in and sticks his hand inside the bag, the ruffling inside riles up his curiosity tenfold when your literally start vibrating in excitement.

A few seconds later he finally pulls out a small pair of white baby shoes from the bag, they're small enough to fit a newborn and look even smaller when he's holding them in both hands, he just stares at them quietly for a while, there's not a bit of sound in the kitchen asides from your guy's breathing and the sounds outside from traffic and people passing by.

"What's this?" He can't help but ask, thinking is some game or something.

"They're shoes you dummy" You say from behind the camera, awaiting for his answer.

"I know what they are Y/N, but why did you buy this? They're small enough to fit a--" Yagi freezes on the spot, once he connects the dots his head whips around in you direction with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You're not joking...right?"

You shake you head with a smile, but before Yagi can say anything else you interrupt him.

"Look inside the bag, there's something else in there"

He rapidly starts rummaging through the bag and finds a white envelope that's quickly ripped open in a rush to get the paper inside it, his eyes quickly scan the contents of the letter before he turns back to look at you.

"This isn't a joke...right?" He asks you once again before looking back and forth between you and the papers in hand, practically shaking from everything he's feeling in that moment, it's actually a surprise to the both of you he hasn't started coughing up blood from the shock.

He stands up so quickly the chair scrapes against the titled floor, making a high pitched, ear splitting screech that neither of you seemed to mind, too distracted by the news to pay attention to anything else currently going on.

"Are you really...Are we really having a baby?!" He's standing in front of you, and the hope in his eyes makes it impossible to hold it in anymore.

"Yes! We're finally going to be parents!" You almost want to jump from happiness, but knowing Yagi he'd probably give you an earful before telling you to be careful, if the way he's constantly dotting over Midoriya isn't already proof enough.

Yagi quickly hugs you, strongly but carefully not to hurt you or the small life growing inside of you, he's only known about it for less than a few minutes and he's already being extremely careful with you.

"How long...?" He can't even speak properly, too close to tears and his voice comes out hoarse from how much he wants to cry in that instant.

"Four weeks, turns out the little one was the one responsible for the stomach ache, not the takeout" You laughed "I seriously hope you didn't send a complain"

"Who, me?" He pulls back, hands up in the air "No way!"

Good thing he forgot to call the restaurant in the midst of the whole surprise...

"Do you realize what this means?" Yagi quickly changes the subject, a glint in his eyes that can only mean one thing.

"We need to prepare the nursery asap!!"

"Oh my god Toshi, we still have 9 months to do so!"

"Nonsense, It's never too early, the quicker the better! Wait until young Midoriya finds out!"

"Should we get him an 'Honorary big brother' T-shirt?"

"Yes! And don't forget about the wedding! Should we do it before or after the baby's born?"

"Careful Toshi, Midoriya finally rubbed off on you"

This was going to be so much fun.

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @bnha-ra @godtieruwu @mysticalite

#mha imagine #bnha imagine #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha toshinori #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #all might #reader insert #female reader

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brideofcthulhu10 · 5 years ago

Note

Ok I’m at work and I cannot stop thinking about a soulmate au with Dwayne (because he’s my fave) where a psychic or someone tells him that he’ll meet someone with like a specific tattoo or birthmark

Sure thing! Currently the child birth post is taking a lot longer than I expected, I’ve only just finished the David segment, I still have Paul, Marko and Dwayne to go but hopefully they’ll be done before Wednesday.

Dwayne’s Fate

Halloween rolled in and yet the plethora of tourists never seemed to cease. All over the boardwalk they flocked to every newly decorated attraction, sporting cheesy plastic masks, sharing caramel apples, hugging each other as they went into the haunted house... Dwayne couldn’t help but feel the sharp pang of envy overtaking him. The young native pushed his mess of windblown black hair from his face, utterly tuned out while Marko and Paul were scoping out the beach honeys clad in bikinis and shorts. Instead he leaned on the handlebars of his bike, watching the couples pass by. Eighty-One Years.

He had been a vampire for eighty-one years. In all that time he’d never considered anything outside of his own pack, his coven of brothers who had become vampires alongside him. It was decades of wild nights! He thought he could never want anything else. But when Michael waltzed in and swept up Star and Laddie... he felt almost dark, in a sense.

Something changed in him the night he came back. He wasn’t sure how. What mattered was that he, and his brothers were alive once again. Well, not alive, but still. Now he was back to terrorizing the night time streets of Santa Carla like he always had. Only, it wasn’t like always. A part of him wished there was something more to all this. He had hoped one day to settle down when he was still alive but opportunity seemed to be almost gone by this point. Drumming his fingers on the handlebars of his bike, Dwayne grew increasingly impatient remaining in place. Swinging his leg over his bike he sighed with Marko turning to watch the road hog waltz away.

“Hey, Dwayne, where you headed, man,” he called, looking up.

“For a walk. I can’t sit here all night like you suckers,” Dwayne retorted, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. Silently he wove through bustling crowds, barely lifting his eyes. Anyone who was in his warpath quickly learned to dodge him. Thoughts plagued his head, more than he had before to the point they were cluttering against each other.

“You there,” a voice called over the unruly sounds of Santa Carla. Dwayne hadn’t thought much of it until an elderly woman quickly wove through. “You! You! Yes, wendigo-boy!”

The term gave him pause, looking back at the silver haired crone waddling his way still pointing her dried up finger until it was inches from his nose. “Yes, I could sense the aura of you and your friends across the way. Your dark presence is unmistakable.”

Dwayne swatted her hand away with a grimace, taking a step back. “Bug off you old bat, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed, turning from her.

“Your past may not define your future! It is not too late to find one who can bring light to your darkness,” she insisted, running in front of him.

Again Dwayne groaned, This broad was persistent. Even when he tried to walk away a third time she managed to swoop around him.

She was easily in her late 80′s with wiry silver hair barely contained in a low hanging bun. Feathers stuck out of her hair, clanking armfuls of metal bangles rang whenever she moved her hands. Each boney finger cracked, dawning a ring on each that barely hung of aged flesh. Beady brown eyes practically stared into his center which made it impossible to to look at her face. Whenever she spoke he could see her crooked snaggle tooth accompanying her worn voice, raspy as if she had swallowed sandpaper. Wrapped around her burnt orange dress was a worn leather belt chipping away sporting a purple satin bag tied around it. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss was not going to wait. When his internal debate grew to be too much, she finally snatched him firmly by his wrist and began to pull him where she was determined to be. There was no point in questioning any of this, all she did was answer in stupid riddles.

"All will be answered! But you come with now, otherwise you will miss it! Then who knows when it'll happen again."

"It". Whatever this "it" was carried some weight as she used the term frequently. Although reasonably irritated, something in Dwayne felt the need to follow. He resisted the urge to rip her arm out of it’s socket, and instead rapidly shuffled his feet so he didn’t step over the hobbling broad who couldn’t be more than five feet tall- even when she wasn’t hunched over. The way she wove through tourists was eerily timed. Almost perfect. Nothing caught her off guard. Bobbing and weaving. Worst of all no one was moving, everyone around them seemed utterly oblivious to her presence! Pulling him forward she shuffled her way to a small caravan. The dusty old piece was barely illuminated by a single light hanging over the door, wedged between the old donut place and the Santa Carla Gift Shoppe.

Still clutching his arm, they continued up creaking wooden steps that practically sang as he carried himself atop them. He can as convinced any moment this whole thing was going to collapse. The red door swung open slowly on it's own. Must've been rigged or something to do that. Meanwhile Dwayne had to duck just to avoid hitting the doorway, not that it mattered to the scatterbrained lunatic he decided to follow. Only when they were indoor did she finally release his hand and immediately shut her door behind him. It was decently bigger than what was let on initially. Tucked away behind a thick red curtain was a bed built around an arching stained glass window. It must've been somewhat decent before, athough this woman was such a hoarder you wouldn’t be able to tell at first. What books didn't fill her towering cases were strewn about the the floor in piles. Pages were stained with ink, notes written in old languages stuck to the walls between massive oil paintings depicting glorious battles, mystic creatures, ancient ones he had never seen. Plants were either hanging from the ceiling or over grown in corners. Dwayne made the mistake of sniffing at the strange red mushrooms poking out a dense pot of wriggling soil. He immediately recoiled watching worms surface just to burrow beneath the cakey mud. There were chattering cages hidden behind the bedroom curtain, ones he couldn't see into. Lined up along the wall was an oak desk draped in a velvet purple fabric coated in metallic gold zodiac symbols, completely covered end to end in bizarre herbs, animal parts, even live critters kept in an array of apothecary jars. Shelves held more, beakers of unrecognizable fluids bubbling over rickety bunsen burners. Thick crystals caked in dust jutted out beside a faded wooden box with bizarre pieces of jewelry spilling over, cobwebs gathering in untouched nooks. Rather than lamps or lanterns she had candles everywhere. Dribbling onto the floor, pouring over wrought iron candelabras, wiggling wisps of light spilling around the corners. By the kitchen space were cabinets sporting different colors of even more candles, many carved into with unfamiliar writings. When Dwayne picked up a dirty bottle covered in cobwebs off the crowded oak desk, there was a loud THWACK that made his ears wring.

“Ow! Hey-!”

Before he turned around she had a broom to his face and smacked him again. “No touching,” she demanded, yanking the bottle from him.

“If I wanted to, I could kill you, you old hag,” he snarled, rapidly stepping towards her with fangs bared. Again, broom.

“Hush! You are not as your bothers are. You desire the knowledge, yes?! You shall not get a word if Alma is dead. No use then!”

Dwayne grumbled a sour huff, rubbing the top of his head. Again he questioned his personal sanity for humoring this hag wielding a mighty broom.

All the while the self proclaimed Alma shuffled around him, snatching up handfuls of bottles and plopping then atop another overcrowded table. Repeatedly she used the words "fool" and "knows nothing" clearly referring to him. Mostly because every time she said those words she'd look over her shoulder at him.

Black as night, her worn iron stove roared when she stoked the fire withing it's oven. Just atop the surface was a heavy black kettle nestled above a scalding red coil. It rattled and hissed, moaning when plumes of steam billowed out into the air. She mumbled and “harumph”ed her way through the caravan. Clanking down a tea set on a worn old silver tray she rapidly shuffled back to her stove to retrieve the screaming kettle still singing it's tune. Without missing a beat she dropped something inside it. It took two trembling hands she poured the water over the strange herbs she had previously retrieved into two cups. The dainty porcelain pieces were etched in golden, ancient writings atop another circular table covered by a deep blue table cloth. With that, she plunked herself atop a creaking old chair, staring at Dwayne with those beady eyes .

‘Why the fuck am I still here with this old bat?’

Dwayne barely managed to fit in the rickety old seat that squeaked beneath his weight, staring down at the petit cup. The muddied liquid still bubbled, steam spiraling to carry an unbelievably sickening scent. Not necessarily horrible, but utterly confusing. The more he looked at it the more it seemed alive. “I am not touching that.”

“Hush! Nonsense! You shall drink as Alma does, and you will see.”

Dwayne hesitated, watching her sip at the herbal concoction. This was clearly the dumbest decison of his afterlife, but he had already died twice. What was there to be afraid of?

“On the boardwalk.. you called me ‘wendigo’. What makes you say that?”

“I can see your true form,” she calmly explained, setting down the cup. The leaves barely floated at the base. If he turned his head he swore he could see it forming into the shape of a fanged jaw wide open. “Blood and flesh pave your future, but even those who dwell in darkness deserve a lantern to ease the suffering.”

So, she knew what they were. What he was. “Then why help me if you know I’m a vampire,” he questioned, expecting the tea to be brewed with holy water.

“It is not my place to judge your path. I have come across many of your kind in my years of living. They all do what they must. So, drink.”

Dwayne hesitated once more, only to lift the beverage to his lips. It was bitter. The taste was reminiscent of biting into tree bark, all he could do is scrunch his nose.

Then, Alma’s figure began to vibrate. He could see pieces of her breaking off, the room surrounding him peeling away, like old paint off a dirty wall. Strips crumbled to his feet. He attempted to move only to find himself firmly planted to his seat. There was nothing. No sound, no sight, only black.

With a sharp inhale he opened his eyes to streams of orange. A... sunset?

Dwayne was amazed he could even remember what a sun set looked like. However, there was nothing that could take away the memory of the fire that filled the edges of the sky. Drips of night seeped in, miles of tall wheat grasses swaying in the breeze enveloping him. Still wedged in place he could only sit there, savoring a sight he would never see again.

But when he heard it, and he froze. A laugh. A twinkling bell chiming from far away. Flashes of E/C orbs flickered holding the sun within. A pearly smile whispering his name so softly it sent chills running down his spine. S/C as smooth as satin running a hand on his arm. The face cut in and out, but what he continued to see over and over was a symbol. An inky raven with wings draped over a woven dream catcher. Thick cords wove between each other into intricate details, each hole giving him pieces of who she was. Yes, she. He could hear her voice vibrate through the air. Not what it was saying, but only the sounds it made. “Alright alright, enough,” a raspy voice commanded.

Dwayne finally jumped up and out of his chair, crashing back down to earth and only the dusty floor of Alma’s caravan practically wheezing for air. He felt like he had just been running for hours!

“Come, come let’s not be dramatic,” Alma snorted, shuffling over to take his tea over to her rusty old wash pan piled with dishes.

It took a moment to get ahold of his bearings, swearing if he had a heartbeat right now it’d be jumping through his ribs. “What... the fuck... did you give me?!”

“No time for that, child. The bird is waiting for you just beyond the docks,” she began to babble again. Bird? Again that raven flashed before his eyes while Alma pried him off the floor.

“Wait- but I don’t- will you quit shoving me?!”

Alma continued to yank him until he was out the door barely catching himself as they ran down the steps. “Oooh any minute, any minute. No time for dawdling!”

Quickly she took him by his arm and swung him back out into the crowd, stumbling into a young woman who nearly yelped.

“Oh shit are you okay,” she asked. A few girls giggled at him until she made a face, waving them off. “Sorry I didn’t see you there. Are you alright uh-?”

Just across her collarbone sat a raven tattoo nestled across her chest with winds spread over a dream catcher trailing into her shirt, the trickles of beads left hidden in her blouse. When he looked into those perfect E/C orbs holding the sunset beneath them he could only smile, setting her heart immediately ablaze. With a massive blush tinting her cheeks an adorable crimson hue she pulled him to his feet, unaware once he was standing that she still had not let go of his arm. Looking behind him Dwayne still expected to see the batty old woman sitting outside her caravan. Instead... there was no one in sight. No caravan either. Just an empty alleyway only sporting a few dented old trash bins overflowing with garbage. Slowly he turned back to the girl, positioning himself closer as his crisp smile beamed over cinnamon flesh.

“Well what’s your name first?”

“Y/N,” she spoke with a tender tone, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Y/N. I’m Dwayne. Nice to meet you, princess.”

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clubdolan · 5 years ago

Text

#dadtat | GD

I didn’t proof read this 10 times and it’s not that interesting but I wanted to edit a baby name on Grayson OK

It had been nine months.

Nine long, drawn-out months.

They felt longest to Molly, the one carrying the baby.

The felt longest to Grayson, father of the baby.

But his fans swore it felt longer to them than anyone else. Simply because they rarely saw bump pictures, never heard any updates, didn’t know of a due date or any other details.

They predicted dates from how large her stomach was in a few paparazzi shots or pictures fans took in public. They judged by the products they were seen shopping for or items seen in the background of pictures or videos.

Comments begged for info, the entire family had dm’s full of questions hoping that one person close to them would answer; but no one did.

Rumors circled once a week of Ethan’s Jeep being seen at a hospital or that Cameron was seen at a restaurant which obviously meant she was in town for the baby.

Every inch of snapchats were zoomed in on and no one could figure out from one simple snap of Ethan’s feet on a tile floor meant they were at the hospital.

Contractions had started a few days before and Molly spent hours in a hot shower, she watched TV on all fours swearing it helped the pressure, she slept with seven pillows propped around her body and Grayson was on red-alert for anything to happen.

His mom paced their house, hearing Molly groan from contractions as Grayson was on the phone with the doctor who explained they still needed to wait to come in.

Molly sipped on prune juice, pickle juice and any other juice that was supposed to help further pregnancy. She walked the block, she went up and down stairs and bounced on an exercise ball for hours at a time.

“Gray... yeah, hun.. forget the milkshake... just get home when you-- everything’s fine-- how far are-- okay, just come--” Lisa pulled her phone from her ear, “He hung up but he’s on his way home.”

“This is SO GROSS.” Ethan gagged, looking at the bed Molly continued to sit on... the bed that her water broke on as soon as she said she wanted to lay down for a nap.

“I didn’t ask you to clean it, I asked you to get me another pair of pants.” She whined, rubbing the bottom of her stomach as another contraction hit. Ethan’s face contorted as he opened a drawer and tossed a pair of sweatpants her way. “And can you please go get a garbage bag from the pantry? I’m just throwing these sheets away.”

He nodded and made his way downstairs, passing his Mom, “Your bag, baby bag, Grayson’s bag, all by the door. Anything else?”

Molly was pulling up her new sweat pants, gasping for breath before she pulled the sheets off of her bed. “Hun, don’t do that. Make your way downstairs, I’ll get the sheets off the bed.”

“I feel like I’m going to take one step and she’s going to fall right out.”

“That’s the feeling you should have.” Lisa laughed, “Hold the bag open, E.” “EW, no, can’t you just, do it.. yourself?”

“Ethan. Open the bag.” She glared at him before he held it open and held his breath while she tossed the sheets inside and tied it. “Now take it to the trash.”

He groaned, holding the bag as far away from his body as he could. “Don’t come near me! This is toxic!”

“What the fuck, E?! What happened?!” Grayson screamed, running up the stairs, “Mol? Mom? What’s happening? Why did I--

“My water broke, babe.” Molly forced a smile, “We are calm..” She kept going down he stairs, “and breathing” she continued slowly down, “and going to the hospital.”

“Where are the bags?--

“By the door.”

“Where are my key?--

“I’m driving.” Ethan spun the key ring on his finger, waiting by the door.

“We have to take Molly’s car--

“Molly’s car because the car seat fits in it best, I know, I know.” He pushed the door open to the garage.

Molly started crying and mumbled, “I need my shoes....”

Grayson skipped three stairs at a time, running into their room and back down the stairs with a pair of slides for her.

Everything seemed rushed and quick and going by one hundred miles an hour until the hospital room was still, the only sound was the machines monitoring Molly and the baby.

“She’s perfect.” Molly brushed her finger on the baby’s cheek as she fed, “I can’t stop crying.”

“You’re a perfect, mom.”

She looked up at Grayson who sat next to the both of them, “You’re a perfect, daddy.”

He brushed his fingers gently along the small bit of hair she had, “This is so crazy. So crazy.”

“It doesn’t feel real..” Molly said, “It could be that I haven't slept in 36 hours, but I still think it would feel weird if I had.”

“Are you good for visitors? Or?”

“Once she’s done, which is probably soon. I think she’s slowing down.” Molly looked at her little face, trying to judge if she was still eating or not. “It feels like she’s slowing down... I can’t wait for her to be done because it’s more painful than I realized. You can go get them.”

He kissed Molly and the top of the babies head, pushing the door open and walking down the hall. The room hushed as he entered, “She’s here.”

Grayson let out a breath, it felt like a weight was off his shoulders, “Ten fourteen this morning, seven pound, six ounce, nineteen inch, baby Dolan was born.” The room clapped, woo-d and took pictures, “Margo Rayne and mommy, are ready for visitors.”

“Margo!” They all said at the same time, taking turns hugging Grayson.

“You’re a dad.”

“You’re an uncle.” Ethan and Grayson hugged before he led him back to the room.

Everyone took turns holding her, taking pictures, face timing others; and Molly finally ate the Taco Bell she had been waiting thirty-six hours on.

@molly.d: best day ever 🎀

@graysondolan: My heart is so full. 💕

#DolanBaby was quickly trending, guesses it was a girl with their use of a pink bow and pink hearts.

But no one else posted anything until the next few days when they were finally home.

@molly.d: two days old 🧡 @graysondolan

Two days of cat naps, baby vomit, stinky diapers and family visiting. Molly lived on the couch all day; sleeping, feeding, changing diapers, eating whatever food Grayson made or brought home.

Grayson had to leave them for a few hours for a meeting and could barely stand it. He rushed home to find them both asleep on the couch, baby hidden in Molly’s shirt.

They didn’t wake as Ethan came over with Daniel, their tattoo guy. Molly only woke when the baby started wiggling, immediately feeding her and both of them fell back asleep.

An hour or so later she walked into the kitchen, “I didn’t even know you guys were here.”

The baby was in a little ball against her chest, swaddled tight with her usual pacifier in her mouth. The tattoo set-up didn’t even shock her, she didn’t even question it until she realized it was Grayson’s arm and not his leg that was getting a tattoo.

He could see the look on her face, “I promise you’ll like it.”

“I told him you’d give him that look.” Ethan shook his head, leaning over Molly to poke at the babies cheek. “Sweepy baby.”

“Do you want to hold her so I can go get a shower?”

“I am.... so busy...” Ethan sat back down, pulling his laptop out to act like he was working.

“I’ll hold her, babe.” Grayson stuck his free arm out and tapped his chest. “Lay her down on me, I’m here for a bit.”

Molly didn’t argue, she laid the little bundle on his chest and walked away.

Ethan snap chatted a picture of his feet with the words ‘tat time’ at the top. Grayson was in the background, the lamp hovering over him and Daniel was flashing the picture out but you could still see he was holding the baby on his chest, her little yellow blanket stood out from his black t-shirt.

Grayson kept still and looked at all the little faces she was making as she slept. He smiled, whispered to her and tried to ignore the pain of the tattoo needle on his wrist bone.

“E, can you grab that?”

“Huh? What?” He looked up from his phone, searching where Grayson was looking, “The pacifier?” He stood up and grabbed it, “Do I just--

“Don’t put it in her mouth, idiot. It’s dirty.” Grayson groaned, taking his free hand to rip it from Ethan’s hand, put it in his own mouth before putting it back in the babies.

“Because your mouth is cleaner than the floor?” Ethan laughed.

“I got anxious and showered way too quick.” Molly sighed, walking down the stairs to the kitchen. “Everything good?”

“Perfect.” Grayson smiled, “Except that I’m terrified for Ethan to ever have children.”

Ethan didn’t even argue, he just shrugged his shoulders and put his air pods in.

“Are you almost done?”

“Probably thirty minutes.” Daniel estimated, not even looking up from the tattoo.

“She won’t need fed for another few hours so--

“Go do whatever you need to, I got it.”

Molly quickly changed her clothes, tossed her hair in a ponytail and texted a friend to see if they could meet for coffee. She just wanted out of the house even though she also wanted to be stuck to her babies side 24/7.

She probably annoyed Grayson with the amount of times she texted him to make sure things were okay but he never complained. He finished his tattoo and Ethan had started when she arrived back, with lunch for all of them.

She looked at Ethan’s ankle, the skull was done and Daniel was onto the skateboards positioned as crossbones behind it. “Sweet, right?”

“Skate or die.” Molly said, unenthusiastically, putting up a rock symbol with her hand. “What’s yours, Gray?”

He shuffled the baby to his other arm and held his right wrist out where you could see the tattoo through the plastic.

“Awww, Gray...” Molly melted into his chest, choking back tears at the sweet tattoo. “You’re so cute.”

Grayson kissed the top of her head, glancing down at his tattoo again. Their little girl’s name was permanently inked into his arm:

MARGO RAYNE

“Do you want one, Molly? I have the single needle, we can make it tiny.” Daniel joked, “I can make sure it’s hidden--

“I kind of do...” She surprised all three of them, “Maybe just an M... or just her first name.... or the date...”

A few hours later she was squeezing Grayson’s hand almost as hard as she did while giving birth. Daniel counted down the seconds until it was over and wiped it off quickly.

“Take a breath, breathe.. it’s all done...” Grayson laughed, shaking Molly back to earth.

She quickly looked down at the inside of her wrist, a thin font spelled out her name:

“Oh my god I have a tattoo.”

“Mom’s with tattoos!” Daniel joked, “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” She teared up again as he wrapped it up, “And it didn’t hurt that--

“Sureeeeeee.” Ethan laughed, “Didn’t hurt.”

Cuddled together on the couch that night, Grayson edited his instagram post and ran it by Molly before he hit post. Margo was tucked in between his chest and the fuzzy blanket above them. One of his hands held her close to him and the other slid around Molly’s waist as she moved closer, “She’s literally the cutest thing on the planet. I can’t believe she’s ours.”

@graysondolan: baby girl got her own tattoo #margorayne

#mine #me #writing #write #grayson dolan #grayson #gray #dolan twins #daddy!grayson #daddy!gray #the dolan twins #tattoos #edit

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homohtunut · 4 years ago

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How I, a person with zero experience but a lot of opinions would stage Eurovision 2021 pt 3/9

I started doing this in alphabetical order but then the running order dropped so I decided to change this into the running order instead, so, here are my opinions today, might get excited and also post the rest of the 1st semifinal today

Cyprus

So the music video is already very good and I would go for a similiar concept on the Eurovision stage with the whole square black carpet and her dancing on it alone and then later the body painted dancers would join in

For the lights, the color scheme is very good because the contrast with the yellow and that greenish blue is very rarely used and it looks pretty and the occasional red flashes are well-timed (i don't have photosensitivity but I noticed that this video has VERY annoyingly flashing lights that are totally unnessecary so I would also get rid of those)

For the clothes, I wouldn't go for the same one as in the video but I would take some inspiration from the outfit she has in the soap-ad part (also I think it's the same outfit she has when she's under the plastic wrap) so basically that kind of diamond-filled swimsuit (not sure how easy it is to dance in that one)

One effect I would use would be just lighting up the whole stage like the show was over in the bridge, at that point where you think the song ends (the part where there's the childish voice singing "I love el diablo") just to trick the audience into thinking it's over and then hit 'em with the last chorus

Norway

This is a though one because I think the staging in the MGP is totally Eurovision-worthy but I am afraid on the Eurovision stage it will look a little low-budget-y

So let's start unpacking the clothes, that dice-necklace better stay (not going to open up the meaning here but message me if you don't know the point of it and want to) but besides that I have zero idea what should be taken off, there's definitely something too much but I just can't pinpoint what, maybe it's the headband or the sunglasses, he can keep the wings because c'mon it's Eurovision, also the clothes under the furcoat seem nice, my opinion on the furcoat itself is 50/50, if he wants to be taken seriously he should throw it away but if he wants to go over the top then I'd let him

When it comes to the dancers, I might actually ditch them, I think he has enough charisma to fill the stage and especially if he's standing on a box and the floor is covered in smoke there's no need to worry it's gonna look too empty

Like I said already, smoke should stay and so should the pyros, I like the symbolism of the chains connected to his hands and I would maybe add there even more of them, like A LOT more of them just because I think it would look cool

Color scheme is actually very hard to decide for this because I think blue, although pretty, is very overused one but I think this song has a chance to be remembered by the audience even with a basic color scheme like that, maybe I would mix in some yellow so it doesn't get too repeative

Croatia

Now this is already a near-Eurovision ready performance and I think this performance is very pleasant to watch and it really elevates the song

Firstly, THE DANCERS NEED TO STAY, as I've already said, I'm not an expert with choreography but this is something very beautiful, the lift in the second verse, the line in the first chorus, all of it is something I wouldn't dare to touch (also the dancers are very hot which is never a con)

The lights in this performance are near-perfect, the combo of blue and neon pink looks very pretty and memorable, I would switch the white lasers to pink ones and use less of the strobo effect and then use more of that pink generally but otherwise I think the lights are well done

When it comes to outfits, I wouldn't ditch the pants (but I would change their color to the neon pinks so they would pop up even more) What I would ditch are the fanny bag -like things on the dancers' chest, I would also use the shirt Albina has in the music video rather than the one she has in the live but all in all this only needs a few slight chances ans nothing big when transfered to the Eurovision stage

Belgium

This is the one I have zero ideas for this, I even had to watch the live version for ideas but my head is totally empty

What I know: The lights should be either orange&yellow or orange&red, this is a song that can have a little bit dimmer lighting to set the mood, maybe even spotlights

No other people on stage than the band, maybe smoke filled floor

When it comes to clothes I wouldn't mind the bride-like clothes the singer has on the video and suits for the other musicians but also I wouldn't mind them going for the total opposite and have the singer dress in all-black widow-like clothes

Definitely would also add some props but don't know yet what, the candle-filled room in the video is pretty but very hard in reality, maybe covering the instruments with those white sheets you put on furniture? I seriously have very little ideas for this

Israel

Okay so this is another one I had very few ideas for but thankfully the revamp's video helped a lot

There's a shot in the newer music video where Eden and her dancers are dancing in the water and that could make very cool effect (just don't let Eden wear heels, MGP already showed us why water and heels are a bad idea), this song needs the dancers to elevate it (also because Eden has very difficult vocals in the end someone else have to keep the stage alive while she hits those high notes)

When it comes to outfits I think the ones the dancers have in the video need to be changed because they look very cheap, the one Eden has (in the water scene, the one with many many diamonds on it) on the other hand would be perfect for Eurovision stage as it is, maybe have the dancers wear also something alike

Because the outfits don't have a lot of color in my plan, all the color has to come from the lights, I'd maybe go for something purple&pink or purple&blue and that's about all the ideas I have for this

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

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The Measure of a Good Hero

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Characters: Shota Aizawa, Izuku Midoriya

Pain … Blinding pain pulsed across Shota’s face like red-hot lava as he lay prone on the ground. No, not lay; he was pressed, crushed against the pavement with hot sticky blood flowing out of his mouth and nose to smear across his cheek. The gray-haired young villain’s high-pitched cackles bounced inside his ears, only adding to the skull-splitting pounding in his head. Shota’s vision blurred as his brain withered under the assault, and he lapsed into unconsciousness no matter how much he told himself to hold on, hold on, hold on…

Shota jerked upright in bed with a gasp. The ghost of the searing pain ebbed into a dull ache as the remnants of his shattered eye socket lamented with phantom trauma. It took a few moments for Shota to recognize that he was not at the USJ but safe in his bed in the U.A. dormitory.

His heaving breaths slowly mellowed, the cold sweat slowly dwindled to coat him in a layer of perspiration, and his constricted pupils slowly dilated as his eyelids drifted over them. With an agonized groan, he drew his hand over his face.

“Damn...”

Shota’s muscles felt as if he’d boxed a gorilla. They ached and throbbed terribly, protesting as he flipped the sweat-soaked sheets off himself. The cold air blowing from the air conditioner washed over his body, allowing the sweat to sap even more heat from his system. He rubbed the bare skin of his legs as the coarse black hairs stood to attention, trying to force warmth back into his chilling body. After a few minutes, he slipped off the bed and padded barefoot out of the room towards the dormitory kitchen.

The moon streamed through the row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows framing the wall of the living room. The bushes lining the building gleamed like polished malachite as the stark contrasts of darkness and light clashed in their leaves. The wind whistled through the boughs of the skinny trees scattered across the courtyard to flicker against the windows like moths flapping at an illuminated dull yellow lightbulb. A peaceful night, for all intents and purposes…

A peaceful night for everyone but Shota that is.

Shota rubbed at his aching eye as he used his other hand to rifle blindly through a cabinet. Occasionally, he’d pluck a box from the depths to squint critically at it, using the soft white light to read the labels. After several failed attempts, he finally secured his desired midnight snack- chamomile tea.

Though Hizashi and Nemuri gave him hell for it, Shota consumed almost as much tea as coffee. He’d taken to natural sleep supplements after melatonin pills had failed to lull him into a decent night’s rest. Their resident tea connoisseur, Momo Yaoyorozu, had enlightened him to more adventurous blends of brewable sleeping droughts, but this night he settled for the classic.

Shota procured a random mug from the cabinet (Izuku’s, judging from the All Might hero suit patterning) and filled it with tap water before popping it into the microwave. Through baggy, lidded eyes, he watched the colorful cup spin slowly in the appliance, all while swinging the bag of tea lazily around his finger. The seconds counted down one by one, and he focused on the depleting neon figures, lest his nightmare seep back into his mind to haunt his waking life too.

A small squeak made Shota straighten up and squint into the depths of the living room. Through the shroud of darkness cloaking most of the room, Shota caught a glimpse of wild pine-green bedhead and gleaming emerald eyes.

“Midoriya,” Shota drawled in recognition. He looked back to the rotating mug in the microwave, trying to use it to distract from the humming in his nerves. Though the logical part of Shota knew that the odds of being attacked in a school dormitory in the wee hours of the night were slim to none, adrenaline has still gushed through his bloodstream upon sensing the young boy enter. His tensed fist slowly uncurled as he forced himself to relax, and he watched out of the corners of his eyes as the bashful Izuku shuffled into the room.

“Up late grading papers, sir?” Izuku asked with a wavery smile as he pulled open a cabinet. He bee-lined for the box of animal crackers on the top shelf, pulling down the red box along with a small plastic bowl.

“Not exactly,” Shota huffed in amusement. For several moments, the only sounds in the kitchen were the crackling of the plastic bag of animal crackers, the cookie-like snacks thudding against the bottom of the bowl as Izuku poured them, and the consistent humming of the appliance in front of Shota. “What are you doing awake at this hour? It’s well past curfew.”

Though Shota was mostly joking, Izuku jerked violently in surprise, spilling animal crackers all over the counter.

“W-wah! I’m sorry, sir, I just-!” Izuku babbled, hastily scooping up the scattered crackers to dump them in the bowl. “I just- I, um…” As he trailed off, his movements slowed until his hand rested on the counter, still clutching several of the snacks. “I… Had a nightmare about the summer camp incident…”

Shota watched Izuku through half-closed but scrutinizing eyes. Izuku’s fist clenched, cracking the cookies into small pieces as he stared glassily at the bowl of animal crackers as if it were now a foreign object. “I dreamed that… it went a lot worse than it did, and…” Izuku clenched his fists so tight that his scarred knuckles glared white in the gloom. “I couldn’t protect anyone.”

Even in the sparse lighting, Shota could see the frustrated tears blooming in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. The microwave beeped shrilly in Shota’s ear to herald the boiling of his mug of water. Shota inhaled sharply, then exhaled deeply and turned to busy himself with pulling out the piping-hot cup of water to dunk the bag of chamomile tea into it. As the yellow-gold flavoring diffused through the clear liquid, Shota idly stirred the bag around to speed up the steeping.

“I know how you feel,” he said after several moments. He kept his back to Izuku, continuously drawing the teabag around the bottom rim of the mug, but he could feel the boy’s widened eyes on him. “That’s one of the scariest feelings… That you can’t protect the people that you care about.” He reached up, ghosting his fingertips over the crescent moon-shaped scar decorating the underside of his eye.

Shota had grappled with that fear for such a very long time. It never seemed to leave him. As soon as he thought perhaps that he’d been able to move on, to grow strong enough that he didn’t need to be afraid before, reality reared its ugly head to squash him back into the dirt. Sometimes, quite literally.

“Do you have nightmares too, Mr. Aizawa?”

Shota smiled wryly, finally glancing over his shoulder to look at Izuku. The boy watched him adamantly; doubt and a need for reassurance swam in his bright green irises. Shota may not be the cuddliest, most fatherly man alive, but he was a teacher. Consolation was something he could attempt to give, at least.

“Of course I do,” he said, turning so that his back now pressed against the counter. One elbow propped loosely against the tile, while his other bent in the air as he rubbed the nape of his neck. His eye twinged with phantom pain, remembering once more the feeling of his bones shattering against cracking concrete. “Anyone in this line of work who tells you otherwise is a liar.”

Izuku let out a tiny chuckle, and it seemed like his expression brightened just a bit. Shota smiled as he looked down at his tea. The golden brew had blended through the hot water. He grabbed a bottle of honey and stirred a spoonful of it into the tea. When he sipped it, the sweet flavor of the honey and the muted tone of chamomile spread over his tongue, filling him with a warm sense of calm.

He turned back to Izuku, holding up the All Might mug and supping casually at his beverage. With a wry smile, he tapped the edge of the cheesy smile adorning the bottom half of the cup.

“Take All Might, for example. I know for a fact that he has nightmares.”

Izuku’s face scrunched up in a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“No way!” the boy laughed and waved a hand dismissively at Shota. “He’s All Might !” However, as realization dawned on him, his entertained smile sagged into a sad one. “Though I guess… He has been through a lot, especially recently. I guess there has to be at least one thing that he regrets, and that haunts him…”

“Of course. Being the Symbol of Peace doesn’t make him perfect.” Shota shrugged. He then smiled when Izuku looked at him with knitted eyebrows. “Midoriya, the measure of a good hero isn’t how few mistakes you make or how few regrets you have.”

The mug gently clinked as Shota set it down on the counter. He walked over to Izuku to gently clap a hand on his shoulder, and the boy looked up at him with big emerald eyes. “The measure of a good hero is how well you can bear the burden of your mistakes and regrets, and how you can make them right by doing better.”

Izuku’s forest-green eyes stared intently into Shota’s face for several seconds as he articulated the solemn statement. Slowly, his head dropped until his chin dropped down against his chest.

“Yeah… I… I think I get it, Mr. Aizawa,” he whispered with a small nod. Shota smiled and patted Izuku on the shoulder, then snagged a few of the animal crackers to pop them into his mouth. As he sauntered off toward his room, swirling the chamomile tea and crunching on the sweet cookies, he shoved a hand in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Izuku, who had gone back to staring blankly at the bowl of animal crackers.

“Midoriya, you still have a long way to go,” Shota reminded him with an endeared smile. It was almost cute, how insanely ambitious his class of students was. Cute, but a headache and a handful sometimes when they got too intent on growing up too fast. “Take those feelings you have now, and use them to grow stronger.”

Clarity flooded Izuku’s dull eyes, returning that determined little gleam that Shota admired so much about the kid. He turned back to Shota with a bright smile.

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!��

“Great talk. Now, off to bed with you. I don’t want to hear complaints that you’re tired tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir!”

Izuku went to scamper off, making Shota chuckle.

“Midoriya, your animal crackers?”

Izuku whirled on his socks to see his bowl of crackers still perched on the counter, untouched and forgotten.

“Oh, right! Th-thank you!” he laughed sheepishly and scurried back to retrieve his midnight snack. Shota watched warmly as he scampered off, munching on the animal crackers and muttering self-motivating blathers under his breath. Shota took a healthy swig of the chamomile tea; it blended with his improved mood to stimulate the drowsiness currently rising in his system. “Goodnight, Mr. Aizawa!” Izuku’s hushed shout floated down the stairs several yards away. Shota snorted and turned to retreat back into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Sleep well, Midoriya. Pleasant dreams.”

As Shota collapsed on his bed, the finished mug of chamomile tea resting on his nightstand, he actually felt secure for once that he’d be gifted with pleasant dreams, too.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#shota aizawa #aizawa shota #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

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womanoflettersinthebunker · 5 years ago

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Sam watched disinterestedly as Dean gathered the humans blood into the jar, scoffing when his brother used his own fingers to deepen the cut. Dean had no problem using anything he had on him and improvising, he enjoyed the feeling of their victims blood drying and staining his skin and more often than not Sam would catch him licking it clean.

“You’re not kissing me if you lick the blood again.” Sam warned him, narrowing his eyes at the grin on Deans face. As if on purpose he locked eyes with Sam and licked at his fingers, making a small popping noise when they slid out.

“Don’t be such a prude Sammy.” Dean said, turning back to the almost dead human. “Just make sure the reaper can’t do shit.”

“I already painted the runes, they’re going to be kept out.” Sam told him. “Not like we can’t kill it if we have to.”

“Now who’s the bloodthirsty one.” Dean said, shooting him a smile. “We’re almost done here, then we can go.”

“Good, the sooner the better.” Sam said, rifling through the man's wallet and bag. He pocketed the cash and looked at the pictures, debating for a moment to take the credit cards but then deciding against it, too many traces possible on that one.

He did keep the picture for a moment, scoffing at the picture perfect family of a wife and daughter. He threw it all to the ground to be added to their pyre later. The gasoline and matches were right next to him and waiting and to keep himself occupied he drenched them in gasoline, watching it stain the plastic.

He went through the bag and started to put things aside that interested him or might be of use to them. There was nothing really special other than a few knives that looked sharp enough for them, he added those to the keep pile. There was a flask of something and the idea of having some sort of drink made him smile.

Opening it he couldn’t really smell anything and he took a sniff anyway, groaning when all he smelled was water. Some of it dripped onto his fingers and he raised an eyebrow at it slowly made him burn. He glanced at Dean to make sure he wasn’t looking and brought his fingers to his mouth, relishing the burn.

Holy water. A container filled with holy water and knives. Shaking his head he closed the flask and tossed it back into the bag, even if they cleaned it out it was useless to them now.

“I think he was a hunter.” Sam told his brother. “There’s holy water and some weapons in here.”

“Any good weapons?” Dean asked, glancing at his brother before looking back at the rapidly dying man.

“Just some knives, nothing special.” Sam told him, inspecting the knives once more. “Nothing we don’t already have.”

“Might as well keep ‘em, a knife is a knife.” Dean said, rolling his shoulders back a few times.

Sam gave a shrug and dug out a flask of holy water once more. He poured some onto his fingers, fighting back a smile at the slight burn; Dean did call him a masochist at times and maybe it was true but oh well. He brought his hand up and flicked it towards his brother.

It took a moment for it to register, he was focused on the body after all, but once the burning sensation started to set in Dean let out a shout of annoyance.

“Sammy c’mon!” he protested, waving his bloodstained hand in the air. “I’m trying to do some work here.”

“Well I’m bored, so either work faster or,” he flicked his fingers at him again, watching Dean try to dodge the water. “Or be my entertainment.”

Dean picked up and brought his knife up threateningly. “I’m going to cut those fingers off.”he warned. “And I’m going to stick them down your throat.”

“Oh I’m really trembling now.” Sam said with a smile, pouring some more holy water onto his fingers and watching the smoke rise. “Truly Alistair's most prized student.”

“I’m going to take this out of your ass.” Dean told him before he smirked. “But that’s what you want anyway, ain’t it little brother?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sam told him, still trying to make the holy water fall on him. “And focus, he’s about to die.”

Dean's eyes narrowed, a small promise of what’s to come to Sam later on tonight, and turned back to the man. He grabbed the jar that was half filled with the guys blood, pressing it to the cut on his neck. The symbols they had made on his chest glowed at that moment and a small pulse filled the room as the man's soul was pushed out of his body as it died. Moving fast Dean closed the jar around it and swirled the blood, watching it stain the soul just enough to ground it into the glass.

“And there we go.” Dean said standing up. He tossed the jar up and down a few times, laughing when the soul was bounced around. “We’re done.”

Sam had been holding onto the blade, watching at the edges of their warding as a frustrated reaper was refused entry to do his job. He raised an eyebrow and then raised the angel blade, making sure the ripper caught sight of it. The angel blade had been a pain to get but so, so worth it.

The reaper hesitated, eyes going from the blade of the jar in Dean's hands but ultimately it bowed its head and disappeared.

“Good, guess they can be taught.” Sam said, sliding the knife back into his jacket. He grabbed the gasoline and started to spread it over the body and the floor, adding the pictures and the wallet to it as well.

He wiped his fingers dry on the side of his jeans, holding back a yelp when Deans hand suddenly shot out and grasped at his tightly, squeezing hard enough to make his bones hurt.

“When we get back to the motel room.” Dean breathed into his ear. “I’m going to show you just how ‘entertaining’ I can be.”

Sam smiled and held back a shiver as best as he could. “Promises, promises.” he murmured.

The two of them laughed and left the building, throwing a match behind them as they did.

And with that Bill Harvelles body was burned, the fire strong enough to leave the bare minimum of bones and ash.

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