#no matter what I did I physically could not sleep before 1 AM

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

Not me finding the BEST blanket to hide under to hide the light of my phone...

3 years after I stopped needing it.

[madi-writes-things]

Francesca Pt. 1

Summary:

It broke Schlatt when he had to let Y/N go, But he would go through hell a thousand times if it meant he got to hold her again.

“If I could hold you for a minute… I’d go through it again.”

Word Count: 1.09 K

TW: Mental Illness, angst, ocd, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, break up, pining, feelings of worthlessness, basically a self insert without a physical description, Based in Texas… because so am I

A/N: I’m totally ok, and definitely not scared of my mental illness… 👀

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

My bags are packed before Jay gets home. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be. I should probably leave before he gets here, but he deserves an explanation. I’m not really sure what to say when he gets here, but he doesn’t deserve to be ghosted…

When the door opens I regret my decision to stay. He’s holding an H-E-B bag with frozen pizzas and ranch.

My favorite.

The second he locks eyes with me I break down. The bag falls from his hand as he rushes to pull me into a hug.

“What’s wrong pumpkin? What happened?” His voice is filled love and tenderness, very different from his online persona. It makes me cry harder.

“I can’t do this Jay… I-” He pulls me impossibly closer, mumbling a quiet ‘don’t do this’. “I already packed everything into my car. I can’t ask you to stay, I wouldn’t do that to you…”

He knows that I’ve been struggling lately, but I would never ask him to understand the extent of my anguish. I could never tell him about my hours spent researching. The notes. The fear of being alone with myself.

All I’ve ever wanted is to marry the man of my dreams, and have a big family. My mind constantly tells me that I can’t have it…

Nobody would want to deal with you, he’d get tired of it eventually. What if your kids are crazy like you? You don’t want to run the risk that he has to find you dea-

“You aren’t doing anything to me, you don’t have to do this… we can get through this, we can get you whatever help you need… please…”

I’m doing this because I love him. I can tell when he sees the look in my eyes, he mumbles a quick okay before leaving to put the pizzas in the freezer.

I run to lock myself in the bathroom… I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“”“”“”“”“”

When I finally get myself together, I leave the bathroom on a mission to get out quickly. It takes me a while before I realize what’s happening.

“where the hell did you put my keys Jay?” I see him sitting at our table, set with two plates of pizza and two glasses of wine.

“You’re not driving right now… I just heard you have a twenty minute panic attack, you’re in no headspace to drive.” I know he won’t give me the keys, no matter how much I try to convince him. “Do you even have anywhere to go?” I just shake my head. He gets up and walks into our bedroom.

I can hear him on the phone with Ted, he’s asking if I can stay in LA with him. When he returns, we sit down to eat the now cold pizza.

“What did he say?” I didn’t necessarily want to move across the country, but we both know I wouldn’t be able to actually leave well enough alone if I stayed.

I can tell that he’s been crying, but I know that this is what’s truly best for him in the long run. “He said yes, obviously. I’ll drive you to his place, and catch a flight back.” I knew that there was no convincing him to leave me alone for extended periods of time… I wonder if Ted told him not to let me out of his sight.

He probably did.

After dinner Jay offers to sleep on the couch, but I tell him that I don’t want our last night to be spent in different parts of the house.

He holds me as I cry myself to sleep.

This is what’s best for him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The nearly twenty hour drive was silent, stopping whenever the gas gauge lit up. Jay always knew what to get me from the gas station, while I stayed in the car reading. About halfway through the ride he finally decided to play some music, our shared playlist flowing through the tense atmosphere.

I decided to take a nap at some point, and was awoken by Jay gently shaking my shoulder while handing me some food that he had gotten. “We’ve only got about an hour left… you need to eat, and I think we should talk about it.”

No. You can’t handle this, the car ride is hell as is… and now he wants you to talk about why you’re breaking his heart?

“There’s not much to talk about Jay… there isn’t any way to convince me that it was a mistake.” I can see the hurt look in his eyes when I say it, and I really didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. “I love you so much… and I promise, this is for you.”

He starts to try and argue, before settling on asking about publicity. My only response is that we can deal with it separately. I finish my food, and finish the last few chapters of my book.

“”“”“”“”“”

It takes less than an hour to move all of my stuff into Ted’s guest room.

Ted is my best friend, and we’ve known each other for years. He introduced me to the job prospects of the internet. He introduced me to all of his colleagues when I was first starting on YouTube…

He introduced me to Jay.

After helping move everything in, Jay got ready to fly out. He said a quick goodbye to me, before going outside to talk to Ted.

They were out there for a really long time.

What if he’s convincing Ted that you are a horrible person?

What if they’re working together to get you put away?

What if you opened the window?

What if you jumped?

My phone is in my hand immediately, looking up the likelihood of injury/death from a second story jump. Very unlikely. Shit.

All of the sudden, the walls feel too close. The window is too far. I hear Jay’s Uber leaving, and everything starts to collapse.

This was a mistake. I just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s too late. He hates me. I should have just left a note and Jumped off the congress avenue bridge.

I can’t breathe.

I hear a soft knock at my door, and hear it creak open. Ted sits down in front of me, placing my hand on his chest. We work on breathing exercises that he taught me years ago. When I finally feel slightly normal, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos @memento-rory

[dearladynightmare]

Good day my friends! Today I want to share with you my very well-considered theory about Hordaks “defect”. This idea really makes sense to me which is why I use it canonically for my comics (especially the next one). So, if you are interested in how I spent my nights, not able to sleep because of this head-canon, GO AHEAD! ;)

While watching the show I noticed some inconsistencies according to what Hordak said about his defect and how Horde Prime (HP) dealt with it. But what exactly do we know about his defect? Well, he told Entrapta that he was a clone of Horde Prime, that he had been his “top general” but he a had a defect in his cloning. So Prime declared him worthless and sent him to die to the front lines.

When I rewatched that episode I was confused. Horde Prime had a top general? Horde Prime himself chose a “worthless” clone to be his top general??? A clone who’s not even worth to have a name?? Later we found out that Prime does not distinguish between his clones. None of them was special in any way. Their only reason for existence was to serve HP. The clones also don't have fixed positions or tasks. You can follow this thesis well following Hordak. One time he stands at Prime's side, one time he is a guard in the corridors, one time he is a sentry on Etheria, ... It doesn’t matter to Prime - They doesn’t matter.

My first explanation was that Hordak just made the “top general” story up. A story he was telling himself to feel less worthless. An attempt to ascribe value to himself and in the eyes of Prime. And to give meaning to what he was doing on Etheria. It seemed simple – to simple. So, I thought what was if Hordak told the truth? And now hold on my friends!

Hordak wasn’t like the other clones. He had something which made him special – his defect. And I am not talking about his physical health problems which we were able to see in the show (I`ll come back to this later). I am talking about Hordaks ability of independent thinking and slight resilience against HPs mind control. Sounds weird but pls hear me out!

After Hordak returned to HP, his story could have ended. Prime wiped his mind and Hordak should have been like all the other clones. He should have been unable to remember who he was and his complete past on Etheria. But his story wasn’t over. From that time Hordak showed us that Primes mind control does not really work on him. And I have proof!

1. Prime is barely able to see Hordaks thoughts

Primes wasn’t able to see his thoughts right after their reunion. He seemed to wonder and came closer to touch Hordaks face. Then it worked. Later Hordak started to question everything, he was thinking about Entrapta, the first ones writing, She-Ra, the rebellion and was able to keep all those thoughts from the all knowing- all seeing Horde Prime, even if he was standing right next to him. Even if Hordak shouldn’t been able to remember any of those things in the first place.

2. Hordak remembers things without even trying

Before Hordak noticed that he had forgotten something he already remembered things without trying. For example when he met Catra on the corridor and called her by her actual name and not little sister like all the others.

3. Only Hordak was able to fight the mindcontrol

In the show we see various characters being controlled by Prime. But no one was able to resist as much as Hordak did (and he sometimes didn’t even try). Catra was the first to fall victim to the control. she could only defend herself when the chip in her neck got damaged, and even after that she was barely able to. Later, many other protagonists became victims, without the capability to defend themselves. In the end, even Micah was under the control and would have killed his own daughter if Glimmer wasn’t stronger than him. The mind control was stronger than his fatherly love and the fact that he was a mighty sorcerer!

Fact is, even if the controlled characters stood in front of the person they loved the most, they weren’t able to fight the control BUT Hordak (who only exists to obey Primes orders) found the lil first ones writing and went all like “ENTRAPTA! MY TINY WIFE!” ... Well kind ofxD

He also refused Primes orders when he met Entrapta back on Etheria again. He recognized her and wouldn't hurt her. He let her run off! And don't forget when Prime wanted him to get disposed of her. Prime ordered him personally to get rid of her, and he refused! BETTER he turned against him.

And tbh I don’t think theres a difference between a clone under mind control or an controlled Etherian. After all, the clones also had their own personalities, as we were able to see from Wrong Hordak.

And if all that is true, it is possible that Hordak really was a top general of Prime. Maybe HP recognized that Hordak is “smarter” than the others. Maybe he has used Hordaks feature at the beginning and gave him the post as top general. Maybe in form of a consultant? But we know Prime and we know that he wanted to control everything. And maybe he started to question whether he really wanted to grant Hordak this worth. He created a very own “security gap” and so he got rid of Hordak. Of course he didn't tell Hordak about the real reason why he wanted to get rid of him. He just told him that he was a defect! Hordak wasn't aware of what his actual defect was (that he was special) until he started to experience his body betraying him.

Which leads us to his obvious health problems! But what are they if they are not the original defect? Hordaks body turned out to be very weak. He made himself an amour to hold himself together (btw I think that’s very impressive since he’s „just“ a clone, it shows how smart he was!) because his body was betraying him. Well I noticed sth Wrong Hordak said and showed us. THE NUTRIENT-RICH AMNIOTIC FLUID. Remember? When he cooked together with Glimmer he said “True nourishment comes from the favor of Horde Prime, also from nutrient-rich amniotic fluid.“ After that, he showed off an ampoule of this green liquid stuff that we've seen often in the show. Soooo since I´m sure that HP has better things to do than share his rare food with his clones I think they also ate things like ration bars BUT this green liquid seems to be most important to Horde Primes species… He himself is treated with it and even a “simple and worthless clone” like Wrong Hordak is equipped with it. It´s a property he carries with him, so it must be important. Maybe important for their state of health??

If that’s true… and I think it is… Hordak has had a massive lack of an indispensable substance his species requires! And that over years since he has been parted from Prime! No wonder he was doing that horrible! This would explain why his state of health got worse over time and why he no longer had green eyes. His own technologies helped him for a long time but soon failed. If Entrapta had not been there, to make him a new suit he probably would have died or sth.

But even Entrapta's technologies could not entirely help him. At least not enough. Not until he returned to Prime, because Prime had no trouble healing Hordak. It was Prime's technologies that Hordak needed, so why did he throw Hordak out when his defect was only a thing that HP could easily cure? So the physical defect was just a concomitant symptom of years of neglect.

In the end there’s one question left: Why did Prime accept Hordak into his ranks again if my theory is right? Why would he take Hordak back if he was able to resist the mind control. Easy. Horde Prime is an arrogant and selfish dumbass. He was sure that after all that happened he must be the one Hordak loved the most. He decided to watch and test Hordak and his faith (when he asked him to kill Entrapta). He wanted to see him suffer. And he knew if Hordak wasn’t faithful he could easily get rid of him. But he decided to play that sick game… and he lost because Hordak chose to break the chain of abuse.

So that’s it. My theory about Hordak! Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy!💜

[bteezxyewriter12]

Here Without You

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 4k

Includes- Based on song Here without you by three doors down, angst, fluff, sex, missionary, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, cock riding, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000

Gif Credit- Yooboobies

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Yoongi Masterlist

J POV

Opening the door to my apartment, silence greets me, my eyes tearing up

"Stop it", I whisper to myself, wiping my eyes

I need to stop crying all the time

It doesn't help

It doesn't bring him back

I just have to wait for him to come back

He will

When the tour's done, he'll be home again

Closing and locking the door, I go to our room to undress

I try to think of what I have to do before I can video call him

Undress

Shower

Cook something

Eat

Maybe watch a TV show or YouTube

Some thing to pass the time until he wakes up and can call me

He's in Texas now, so when he wakes up at 10 am, it's 1 am here

Luckily I don't have work tomorrow so I can sleep in

I've stayed up late every night since he went on tour three weeks ago so I can talk to him and I've gone to work exhausted

It doesn't matter though, he's worth it

Sighing, I throw my clothes in the hamper, then go to the bathroom to shower

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

I'm laying on the couch with the TV on for noise when my phone rings

Seeing the caller as "naekkeo", I immediately pick it up, his beautiful face filling my screen

"Hi jagi", he says softly, his sad brown eyes gazing at me

"Hi naekkeo", I answer, tears flooding my eyes

This tour has been particularly hard for us

It's the first one after our wedding

And the first one where I can't come to any of the overseas concerts

Not with this video game designer job I have now

I started it last year and the boss is an asshole

He gave me such a hard time to take off for my wedding and honeymoon even though I told the interviewer that I needed certain days off and was guaranteed them at hiring

I'm working on a major game now and I have endless meetings

The thing is I can do everything remotely but my boss is being such an ass, demanding that I come in for meetings

I'm one of three people that come in physically for meetings

The people from other departments come in virtually

Because they have other bosses who aren't pricks

This is the first time I haven't been with him at all on the tour and it's affecting both of us

He's already been gone for three torturous weeks

"How was the concert last night?", I ask, forcing the tears back

"It was good", he answers, his eyes wet, "ARMYS had fun"

"Did you have fun?", I ask

He nods, biting his lip as the tears spill over his eyes

"Naekkeo", I say softly

"I'm sorry", he says as he cries, "I just miss you"

I shake my head, my own tears falling, "I miss you too baby. Don't be sorry"

"I can't....I can't do this jagi. I need you"

I nod, wiping my eyes, trying to calm him down, "I need you too baby. It's just for a little bit"

"It's another six weeks jagi. I can't spend that long without you", he sobs, "We've never been apart this long. It's killing me"

I know exactly how he feels

"Me too naekkeo but there's nothing we can do. You have to be on the tour. I have to work. I wish I could be there, I want to be there with you", I say, more tears falling, making his image blurry, "I don't know how it can happen baby. It's torture for me too naekkeo"

He shakes his head, "I don't want to be here without you. I dream about you every night and when I wake up and you're not there it's devastating"

"I want to be with you naekkeo", I whisper, "So much. I dream about you too Yoongi and I miss you more than anything"

"I can't handle it", he sobs, "I can't sleep without you. I hate knowing you're not backstage waiting for me. I hate not seeing your smile. Hearing your voice. Holding you. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep doing this tour"

I really have no idea how he's supposed to do it either

I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going without him

Video calls, it's not enough

Like he said, I need to be in his arms, I need to feel him, hug him, kiss him

I can't do that through a screen

"We just have to keep counting down the days baby", I tell him, "Just get through each day at a time"

It sounds lame but there's nothing else I can think of to make this better

It's hard for both of us

He just shakes his head, wiping his eyes

"Tell me about the concert naekkeo", I ask him in a effort to distract us both, "What's the set list? What was your favorite part about this concert?"

He smiles sadly, knowing exactly what I'm doing

But he nods and begins talking

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

Three days later

I toss and turn in bed, trying it get comfortable

I can't sleep

I've been laying in bed for hours

I know it's because I wasn't able to talk to Yoongi tonight

BTS had a concert last night and when they have concerts he can't call me

I know they did a vlive too and he went to bed really late

He's probably exhausted and slept all day

I understand

I'm not mad, I know how he operates on concert days

On little to no sleep and he crashes all day the next day

I just miss him

As I'm turning again, I hear a noise

It sounds like it's coming from the front door

Like jiggling

I quiet down and listen hard

I hear the front door open and I'm immediately alert

The door shouldn't be opening

The only ones who have keys are me and Yoongi

And Yoongi is thousands of miles away

Carefully, I get up from the bed, tip toeing to the open door

Quietly, I leave the room, going out into the hallway, ready to run or fight if I need to

A figure steps into the long hallway from the living room and I gape, not sure I'm seeing who I'm seeing

"Yoongi?", I gasp

"Jagi", he whispers, starting to come to me

I don't think, my body immediately goes into a run towards him

I get to him in seconds, crashing into him as he picks me up, his lips immediately against mine

I kiss him desperately, so shocked he's here but so fucking happy and relieved

His arms hold me tightly, keeping me against him, my legs and arms locked around his waist and neck

I don't know how long we kissed for but for me it's never enough

When the kiss does end, I lean my forehead against his, just basking in him being home

"I missed you so much", I whisper

"I missed you jagi"

"How...how are you here naekkeo? Shouldn't you be in the U.S.?"

As much as I want him here, I don't want him to get into trouble

"I couldn't stay away from you a minute longer jagi", he tells me softly, "I just can't. I can't spend another six weeks away from you, Jo. I can't do it baby"

"I can't either naekkeo", I say, knowing exactly how he feels

Like everything is colorless, lifeless without him

"I think about you all day jagi. I miss you so fucking much it hurts. I hate that you're so far from me. I don't think I ever cried so much from being away from you"

I know

This whole time has been so fucking hard, so heartbreaking

I want him to be on tour, I know how much he loves performing, I just hate that he has to be away from me to do it

"It's the same for me baby", I tell him, "I just want you so much it hurts. I want you to be able to perform naekkeo but I don't want you to be away"

"I don't want to be away either jagi"

"What are we going to do baby?", I ask, worried

He's here now but he can't stay

He has the rest of the tour to do, his ARMYS are counting on him

"You're coming back with me", he says

"Yoongi", I start, "My job naekkeo"

The stupid reason I had to stay behind

There was no way my boss would let me take two months off to go with him

"I called him jagi", he tells me, "I spoke to your boss and after a lot of convincing and proving who I was, he agreed to let you have the time off for the rest of the tour"

I gape at him, in shock

My asshole boss caved to Yoongi?

What did Yoongi say to him?

"You won't be paid for the time jagi but it doesn't matter. We have enough money"

"That's your money Yoongi"

He shakes his head, "You keep saying that jagi but it's not. It's ours. You're my wife, the love of my life, everything that's mine is yours from even before we were married baby. You know you don't even have to work jagi but you insist on it"

Of course I do

I'm not a mooch

Just because he's rich doesn't mean I can spend his money

I was never with him for the money or the potential money as we met in high school and have been together since then, when we were both broke

He works hard, he sacrificed in the beginning of BTS, the money and success he has is because of him

I even offered to sign a pre-nup before we got married and he was actually offended I even suggested it

He declined it, shocking me and he always maintains that the money and everything that comes from it is ours

"Yoongi-"

"You know you don't jagi. You know I would give you anything you ask for, do anything for you", he says softly, "And I'm good with you wanting to work baby but I need you with me. I can't go back without you. Please jagi, say you'll come with me. Please"

"Of course I'm going to come with you", I whisper, running my fingers in his black hair, "Even if I had to quit, find another job after the tour, I would come naekkeo. I can't be apart from you any more baby. I need you"

His entire body relaxes as he breathes in relief

"Ok jagi. Thank you"

"Shh baby, don't thank me. Just like you, I'll do anything for you naekkeo, give you anything you want", I assure him, "I want to be wherever you are. And if you have to be in the U.S. I'm going with you"

He nods, "Ok jagi. I love you"

"I love you Yoongi"

His lips press against mine, my heart filling with utter joy that he's here

He carries me to our room, laying me on the bed, his lips never leaving mine

He moves next to me, my body turning to his, our arms around each other

I kiss him passionately, falling into him after weeks of missing him

His kiss is everything, his arms around me is heaven

He's my everything, my world

The kiss becomes heated, his tongue against mine, our hands desperately touching each other

"I missed you", I murmur between kisses while pulling his shirt up

Her separates from me long enough to get his shirt off mine following

"I missed you too, you have no idea"

"I do naekkeo, I missed you just as much"

He smiles his gorgeous smile right before kissing me, his hand slowly pulling down my pj pants and panties

Once they're off, I slide my hands down his sweatpants, getting them and his boxers off

I want him so badly

Three weeks of no physical contact is catching up to us

He moves on top of me, laying between my open legs, his warm smooth skin right against mine

His forehead leans against mine as I move my arms around him, my hand on his back, slowly running my palms up and down, feeling him

He moans softly, his skin trembling under my hands

I slide my hands up, moving over and along his strong shoulders, up his neck, sinking my fingers in his soft hair

We shift slightly, our lips against each other's, kissing desperately

I feel his length at my entrance and I drop my hands to his hips, pulling him closer to me

He takes the hint, his cock sliding inside, my pussy stretching around his thick shaft, pleasure tingling throughout every cell of my body

He whimpers into the kiss as he pushes in inch by inch, my pussy getting wetter and wetter, impaling me on his huge thick dick

My body arches from the pleasure, letting him slide in faster, bottoming out quicker, his head nestled against my spot

I shiver under him, squeezing his cock involuntarily hard

"Fuck", he groans, moving his arm around my waist and holding me against him, "You feel so good jagi. Always so tight for me. So wet"

"Mmm", I murmur, shivering against his lips that found their way to my neck, "And you feel good naekkeo. So hard, all the fucking time"

I purposely clench around his cock, his moan so hot as I enjoy the hard feeling of him buried inside me

"You make me this way jagi", he whimpers, "Fuck, anything you do turns me on. If I could stay inside you all fucking day, I would"

I giggle, kissing the top of his head, "I'd definitely let you baby"

I happen to really enjoy having him inside my pussy

Even if we're just laying here

We don't have to have sex

Cock warming is a huge thing with us, it's something we both love

He lifts his head from my neck, smiling, then kissing me softly

I fall into his kiss as he begins to move, slowly pulling out a little bit then slamming back inside

His head hits my spot, stars blasting in my vision, every nerve on my body alive and electrified

With every stroke he pulls out more and more, until he pulls out to his head, then buries back inside me

He moves at a good pace, fucking me into the bed and my head is in the clouds from the sheer pleasure

He press kisses against every inch of skin he can, my body trembling under his lips

His hand slides slowly up my body from my waist, up my arm, his hand taking mine, intertwining our fingers

I close my hand around his, holding on tightly

His other arm is next to my head, leaning on it as he moves, thrusting into my pussy again and again

"Yoongi", I moan in bliss, closing my eyes as I just feel him

Feel his body against mine, his skin against mine, his cock moving inside me

I'm loving every single second of it

Each smack against my spot brings me closer, my legs tighting around his waist, my pussy throbbing around his cock hard

I'm so hot and sweaty, panting for breath, my fingers digging into his back, my other hand clenching his

"You're so fucking beautiful", he whispers

I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, watching, love pouring from his eyes, "My God, I'm so fucking lucky you're mine"

I smile shyly, "No naekkeo, I'm so lucky you're mine. I love you"

"I love you Jo", he murmurs, his lips finding mine

His kiss combined with him sliding back into me, right into my spot, have me shaking and coming on his thick cock

"Yoongi", I moan between kisses, the intense pleasure washing over me, my pussy clenching around him hard

He moans, his hips not stopping, rolling into me, fucking me through my orgasm

As the pleasure fades, I relax into the bed, Yoongi kissing all over my body as he pulls out

My skin jumps with every press of his lips, his hot kisses feeling so fucking good

He kisses my lower stomach, my hand finding its way into his damp hair, tangling in the strands

He moves down slowly, now pressing kisses against my pussy, pushing my legs wide open

I feel his tongue on me, licking up slowly, my body shivering in bliss

He groans loudly, his tongue moving a bit faster, "So fucking good"

"Yoongi", I whine, feeling so fucking good

My god, I missed this, missed him

His hands grip my legs tightly, his tongue dipping into my hole, my pussy clenching down on it immediately

He licks out and up, his tongue rolling over my clit, my body arching from the increased pleasure swarming over me

His tongue slides back down, circling my hole before dipping in, shoving as much in as he can, then pulling out, sliding up and flicking my clit

He repeats the motions over and over, my cunt getting wetter with every move of his talented tongue

I know I'm completely soaking his face and I know he loves it

"My baby tastes so good", he groans, tongue swirling around my clit, driving me fucking insane, "My baby's pussy is so fucking good. So fucking sweet"

God, he's so hot

The way he's so into eating me out makes everything feel ten times better

I like knowing that he really enjoys doing it instead of feeling like he has to

His tongue move faster, all over my clit, my hips moving on their own, fucking his face, knowing that this is another thing he loves

"Yes baby, fuck yes", he urges, "Don't stop jagi"

His mouth wraps around my clit, sucking hard and I scream his name, squirting a little on his face

"Mmm", he moans, his mouth moving faster, slurping around my clit, the pleasure so fucking intense, my entire body is shaking and my head is empty

I tug his hair tightly, his next suck sending me straight into a mind shattering orgasm

"Yoongi!", I scream, coming on his face, his tongue driving right into my hole, his mouth sucking and swallowing my cum

I can't think, don't know which way is up, all I can do is ride the waves of bliss

It's so intense, so mind numbingly pleasurable

God, Yoongi is the king of oral

His licking slows down as I finish, his eyes already on me when I look down at him

He smirks, kissing my inner thigh, his tongue licking up my cunt one more time

"So good jagi"

I sit up just as he does and I move closer to him, kissing him hard

His tongue moves in my mouth as I climb in his lap, pushing him down on the bed

I follow, kissing him silly, running my fingers in his sweaty hair

He moves me over his length and I sit, taking him in immediately

I'm so wet, I slide all the way down his cock so easily, moving my hips to rock on him

His hands grab my ass, holding on as his hips lift, keeping his cock as deep as he can inside me while I grind on him

Breaking the kiss, I lean on his shoulders, starting to bounce softly on his cock

"Fuck jagi", he groans, his fingers digging into my skin, "Fuck"

"God Yoongi", I cry, his cock spreading my pussy so deliciously, tingles are running up my spine, "So good baby, so fucking good"

He nods, his eyes glued on me as I ride him faster, harder, "Fuck baby, that pussy looks so good on my dick. Creaming my cock so much, it's pouring out of you"

It is, I can feel it, all over this cock, all over his lap, the sticky feeling making me so horny

"Mmm do you hear how loud your pussy is?", he asks as I indeed hear how loud the squelching is, "Fuck, missed me this much?"

"Yes naekkeo", I moan, grinding down on his cock when I take him all in, his head rubbing my spot, making my body shiver, "Missed you so fucking much"

"Missed you too jagi", he groans

"I know", I smirk, his throbbing cock so stiff inside my cunt, "I feel how much you missed me"

He smiles his gorgeous smile, his eyes travelling from my pussy up my body to my face

"So pretty baby", he says softly, "So good at riding my cock"

I smirk, nodding, our skin slamming together loudly with every move, "You know how much I love riding you"

He nods

It's our favorite position, the one we fuck in the most

I don't know, my legs do get tired sometimes but it takes awhile for that to happen and when it does, I still don't stop

I can get him in so much deeper, bounce on him, rock or grind on his dick

And he can fuck me too so it's not just me always fucking him

The best part, for me, is that I get to watch him

Watch him in pleasure, watch him cum

He's so fucking beautiful it's insane

And that's what I do now

Looking down at him, watching him in pleasure, the sight such a fucking turn on

His eyes closed, his head pushed back into the pillow, his mouth slightly open, breathing hard, his hair wet with sweat, his fingers digging into my hips, sweat shortening on his skin as he whimpers my name, begging me to not stop in his sexy voice

He's so fucking stunning without even trying

And he's all mine

Leaning down, I whisper in his ear, "Cum for me naekkeo"

"Oh god, fuck", he groans, holding my hips hard and thrusting up, meeting my bounces, sliding deep inside

We move together, fucking each other, both of us getting fucked out and desperate to cum, moaning loudly

"Yoongi! Yoongi!", I cry, unbelievable ecstacy slamming into every crevice of my body as he fucks me into an earth shattering orgasm

"Fuck Joanne! Jagi!", he cries, his cock pulsing, his warm cum filling me, his body shaking under me

I force my eyes open and watch the complete ethereal sight of him orgasming

I never want to miss seeing this

I rock on his cock, making the pleasure last a little longer for both of us, our bodies relaxing as the bliss so slowly leaves

I move off him but don't go far, snuggling in his arm, my head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat

His fingers run slowly up and down my back, giving me shivers

"When do we have to leave tomorrow?", I ask

He looks down at me, smiling, "Don't worry jagi, I got a later flight. 5 pm"

"Oh thank God", I giggle

He laughs, "I knew you'd want to spend as much time in bed together as you can"

I raise my eyebrow, "As if you don't want that either"

"Of course I want that baby", he agrees, "We can slack off for awhile, then I'll help you pack and we can go"

"Back to Texas?"

"California", he answers

I nod, "Ok"

"Ok", he nods

I gaze in his beautiful dark brown eyes, reaching up and running my fingers in his hair, "I love you so much Yoongi"

"I love you so much Jo. So fucking much"

I know he does

I'm so lucky to have found someone who loves me as much as I love them

Yoongi is the best thing that has ever happened to me

He's my everything

I lean closer, my lips against his in a soft loving kiss

His arms hold me tightly as he kisses me back and I'm so glad he came back for me

[charlesslut16]

hii my lovey, firstly i hope you had a great birthday. Secondly could you maybe write a oneshot about liam lawson. Like the reader and him are laying in bed and he tickles you to wake u up? or something like that, Thank you in advance.

❤️

-tickle attack-

summary : you wake up before liam, but when he woke up you pretended to still sleep, which ended in a tickle attack...

PAIRING : liam lawson x reader

WARNINGS : none

note : my birthday was great thank you for asking! I hope you enjoy this oneshot.

masterlist 

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

Today was the Singapore grand prix, the first f1 race you have been to. You laid in bed waiting for Liam to come into the hotel room, but before you could greet him you feel asleep. 

At around 1 am, Liam came into the hotel room. He had been hanging out with Ken Smith, his mentor. Liam told you before he hung out with Ken that you should go home and get some rest.

Some time later, he was ready for bed, gave you a kiss on your forehead and a small peck on your lips, before he crawled under the comforter to pull you closer to his side.

You were always there for him. Coming to almost each and every race, he drove. Always wearing his t-shirt with his number. And always celebrating with him when he won.

You had so much love for him in you. And he had just as much, if not more, love in him. You were his angel, that came to him, when he needed you the most in his life.

The Singapore grand prix was absolutely amazing and exciting but also extremely tiring. So you were both very happy to finally lay in bed with your other halves.

In the morning, you woke up around 9. Eyes still closed, just feeling a tight grip on your waist, the sun blasting through the blinds and Liam's soft, undisturbed snores.

You could just go back to sleep, but passing out on the opportunity to admire Liam, while he was sleeping, was too good, as he was always the first one to wake from the two of you.

Reluctantly you opened your sleepy eyes, to see your boyfriend laying on his stomach, one arm around your waist, gripping tight and the other one laid under his pillow.

His hair messy yet perfect. His long dark lashes extremely showing, as he had closed his eyes. He looked so adorable. So peaceful. Like he had always told you, when he was with you, he was at peace.

You caressed his soft cheek and all of a sudden he let out a loud groan. Knowing that he woke up, you closed your eyes, pretending that you were fast asleep. You heard him chuckle.

“Sweetheart, I know that you are awake. But you do look cute, when you sleep.”

Still trying to pretend that you were fully sleeping, you decided to not give in no matter what happens. You wanted to see what he would do if you just stayed like this.

“Come on. Or do you want me to use my secret weapon on you, hm?” Liam asked, while he caressed your head. Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew that he had a smirk on it.

You did definitely not stop, and suddenly Liam started tickling you. You tried not to laugh as hard as you possibly could. But there had been absolutely no use.

He tickled you just a bit more until you broke. And then you let out all the laughter and small giggles that you had in you. You had tears in your eyes and your stomach physically hurt from all the laughing.

“Stop it, please! Please!” you said in between your laughter. As he stopped, you gasped for air, and he laughed, while he kissed your cheeks over and over again.

“Okay, I will stop if you give me a kiss as an apology.” Liam responded with a smile. You gave him a look and just as he wanted to tickle you again, you gave him a peck on his lips and then a longer one.

If this was your life from now one, you wouldn't change it for the world. Liam was your life ring, just as you were his. You were a match made in heaven, as his mother had always said.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Our Guest Chapter 3 - Part 1

Vampire!Sun, Vampire!Moon, Vampire!Eclipse x Hunter Reader

(You arrive at a sinister and luxurious castle with the innocent intention of checking why its mysterious residents haven't been paying any taxes or utilities for the past several centuries. Very useful excuse for a vampire hunter to have when trying to do some good old infiltrating. The three vampire lords however, fully intend to capture and seduce you, but that is a bit difficult when you keep asking them about their financial books. Will they be able to make you theirs? Are they onto your little schemes and playing along? Will you finally get that plate of cupcakes? We'll find out)

The Grand Duke was graciously guiding you to an area he deemed appropriate for a duel, one of his right hands on your shoulder, his other right hand gently placed on the small of your back.

In your personal opinion, the corridors would have done just fine for such an activity. Eclipse, of course, did not deem them exalted enough and had proclaimed that he would take you to one of the grand halls instead.

We cannot be sufficiently dramatic in a lowly castle corridor, after all.

You had wondered how he would be transporting the heavy chest containing all the weaponry, but he had quickly solved that mystery through another one of his “parlour tricks“, having it dissolve into diamond dust and safely teleport to the desired location in advance.

Practical and stylish, you couldn't deny that.

His remaining arms were elegantly folded behind his back, his stride regal and dignified, perfect balance and seemingly not a single physical weakness for you to exploit. Immaculate composure, absolute control over each movement and gesture. A vampire lord par excellence.

No matter, there was plenty of other useful information for you to deduce.

Rich amber scent, the soft sound of his cloak moving, the faint echo of his steps, almost imperceptible despite his imposing stature. This was very important to memorize for potential encounters in the dark or if any obstacle were to limit your sight. Moreover, with proper concentration and precision, it was possible for you to use a variant of echolocation if necessary. Air movement itself could betray someone's location or if there was an incoming object.

Eclipse had four arms and therefore it was safe to assume skillful ambidexterity, but you were unsure if he would utilize that against you in a “friendly“ duel. You could use his unfair advantage as an argument for potential disqualification if he got too carried away. One should never underestimate the importance of formalities, they could save you even when the cards were stacked against you, all actions of the other party could be declared null and void due to a simple irregularity.

A dull ache in your stomach reminded you that you were still rather hungry, and a more rational part of your mind began to chastise you for agreeing to play around before getting a good meal first, but you couldn't afford to miss out on an opportunity to get to know your foes better. You wondered whether your dinner could simply be delivered to your chambers after you were done with the whole spectacle. Playing with clingy vampires does take a lot of energy.

A clawed finger wrapped around a lock of your hair.

“You are quiet and pensive, my dear. What devilish strategies are going through that lovely head of yours?“

“Oh, nothing, I am just working on a masterplan that will help me steal all the cupcakes from your kitchen. Beware.“

“How dastardly of you. Has this been your plan all along?“

“All is permitted when one's objective is to acquire treats.“

You blushed as he pulled you closer, placing a part of his cloak over your shoulders as if he were sharing a blanket with you. The gesture was intimate and the soft texture of the fabric reminded you that you couldn't wait to finally take a nap after dawn breaks. One couldn't sleep while the vampires were still awake, after all. Even Sun needed a short rest, despite his eternally insomniac ways.

Eclipse continued to play with your hair, combing his fingers through its softness.

“An intriguing statement, morning star. Are we using a narrow or a broad definition of treats?“

“What would be the broad one for you, sir?“

His hand temporarily left your tresses, claws tenderly sliding down your cheek, passing the jawline and finally caressing along the silken skin of your neck. Your pulse was right under his touch, warm and nectarous blood concealed by such a fragile barrier. The most precious parts of a flower had nothing other than delicate petals to protect them, after all.

“For now I will say that it is open to interpretation.“

Electric tingles danced along your spine and you closed your eyes, fully aware of the rather compromising position you were in, having such a vital area exposed to the tender mercies of a vampire. However, the cacophonous chaos of fear and panic were silenced by the symphony of curiosity, wondering how far he would let you go on with your little performance.

“Forgive me for being so bold, my lord, but if an objective bystander were to interpret the way you are looking at me right now, they may assume that I qualify as a treat in your books.“

“I never made an attempt to hide that I consider you a special type of treat that I intend to savour eventually. There is a proper time for everything.“

“Really? In that case, I warmly suggest you head on to the State Intellectual Property Office to inform them that you created a way to have your cake and eat it, too.“

“Oh, do they offer rewards?“

“Licenses, patents, exclusive rights and such.“

He leaned closer, whispering in your ear, completely concealing you in his cloak as he did so. A playful purr came from him, his eyes alight with mirth.

“Exclusive rights to enjoy our treat whenever we please?“

Your cheeks were ablaze from the sudden closeness, his touch offering pleasant sensations to coax you to relax in his arms. Eclipse's presence was indeed a feast for the senses, the strength of his body, the soft fabric of his fine garments, the timbre of his voice, eyes of gold.

Now, now, do not lose your head just yet. You had anticipated his amorous behaviour, nothing out of the ordinary and all according to your calculations. You told yourself to remain focused, no matter the temptation.

Still, you did not push him away yet. Certain concessions had to be given to keep a vampire lord's interest alive, which is why you indulged him and his brothers when it came to their silly courtship shenanigans. Moreover, it was of crucial importance to continue extending the metaphorical olive branch and show no direct hostility. Antagonizing them could only cost you everything in the end.

You cannot lead monsters astray if you get devoured along the way.

“You are free to apply, but make sure to fill out all the forms correctly or they will ask you to do the paperwork all over again. Bureaucracy is a silent killer.“

“The prize is worth the toil. Although, why bother with such administrative nonsense when there is a myriad of other tools at our disposal to help us mark that delicacy as our own? Quick, effective, delicious, a bond stronger than death.“

“Fair warning, sir, I won't be held liable if eating the treat too fast ends up making you feel unwell. You may direct all of your medical complaints to my nonexistent secretary.“

“Cheeky little thing.“

“I only speak the truth.“

“We can handle whatever you have to offer, be it heaven or hell, bitter or sweet, a true gourmet appreciates all that stimulates the palate.“

“Even poison?“

“Give me every last drop of it to study and analyze, allow me to memorize its structure, I shall cherish it like liquid jewels.“

“Such things you say, lord Eclipse.“

“Permit me to keep entertaining you for the rest of eternity, I promise it will be worth your while.“

You closed your eyes as one pair of his hands squeezed your hips, the other pair rubbing at your sides to ease the tension in your body. Honestly, you had half a mind to simply ask him for a massage. After all, Marquis Moon had been pretty good at it, maybe the same talent ran in the whole family. You hummed, showing contentment, and the Grand Duke took it as a sign to keep playing with you.

Ghostly kisses were placed along your neck, your jawline, then his lips finally settled at the sensitive corner of your mouth. He wanted a proper reaction, waited for you to concede and lean closer to form a proper kiss, but you remained perfectly balanced on that fine line between stern professionalism and playful coquetry.

Eclipse reached for your hand and you allowed him to do so. His lips lingered on the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, right above the pulse. A hint of red circles appeared in his golden eyes, desire and thirst providing exquisite torture, the hymn of your blood calling for his primal instincts to awaken. He spoke, voice darker than the night:

“Has anyone else tried to make you theirs?“

“Alas, I am married to my work for the moment.“

“Are you now? Work does not warm your nights nor does it provide a proper appreciation of your charms. My brothers and I would love to offer a solution for such a glaring problem.“

“If you insist, you may submit a written application and I shall review it when I have the time. Possibly right before sleep.“

He continued to nuzzle your inner wrist, almost as if waiting for your radial artery to tell him your secrets.

“Be careful who you allow into your thoughts before slumber. We may follow you to the lovely realm of your dreams, and there is no escape from your own mind.“

“That works both ways, my lord. If I cannot get out, then neither can those that are there with me. We will be sharing one big happy nightmare together.“

It was difficult to determine who was leading the metaphorical dance. By all logic, he was the one that should be granted the role of the hunter and subduer. And yet, there you were, seemingly allowing him to have his way, but simultaneously keeping your distance and messing with him. Will-o'-the-wisp, fairy light, sneaky nymph trying to lead him across a broken bridge and doing your best to convince him that you only had the purest intentions. He wondered how many beings of the night had met their demise by following your siren song right into the light of the sun.

Nevertheless, he was delighted with your nonsense. You were absolutely adorable. Darling Red Riding Hood trying to outsmart the Big Bad Wolf and the Twin Hunters.

Aggressive mimicry was a common thing in Nature, predators pretending to be prey, but he had never seen someone in your profession apply such a tactic before. It was far more common for people in that line of work to focus primarily on making a direct onslaught, quick and sudden attacks, unexpected raids. A somewhat reasonable logic. After all, the objective of an average “totally legitimate tax inspector“ was to accomplish as much as possible in the short amount of time they were given. They were always plagued with a sense of urgency, needing to act before their more potent enemy retaliated.

You, on the other hand, were playing the long game. Entering the belly of the beast, making yourself comfortable, confusing everyone around you and acting as if your presence there was the most normal thing in the world. The risk of death hanging over your head, danger all around you, two wrong words and one wrong move away from being caught in your little scheme, but there you were, at ease in the eye of the storm.

Eclipse had encountered plenty of humans in his long existence, yet none had managed to provide such an interesting object of study. It was pure absurdity, your actions were both calculated and whimsical, you had created a conundrum specifically designed to awaken a vampire's curiosity, giving them a riddle to solve, grains of sand to count. It was the equivalent of handing them a piece of paper that had “turn around“ written on both sides, using their own obsessive nature against them.

Clever tactic, Y/N, wonderful novelty, finally a breath of fresh air on the scene, he applauded your effort. No matter, he would find a way to tangle you in your own web, nicely wrapped up as a gift for all three of them and they would take very good care of you. One may even say that they were saving you from the fate of potentially falling into the hands of the more ferocious members of their kind.

In a world of debauched immortals, a human with blood as sweet-scented as yours would be a priority target. Special little gems like you were rare, akin to very expensive bottles of wine, and undoubtedly many beasts wouldn't miss on the opportunity to get their hands on you. It was not uncommon for various Lords and Masters to bring forth a captive human during banquets to be shared with their esteemed guests. Bleeding a prized prisoner and distributing their blood in crystal glasses was a sign of being a good host.

He couldn't let that happen to you. A star's place was in the sky.

Nevertheless, he had every intention of making it clear to you that you had an obligation to descend from the heavens each time he or his brothers called for you. You needed to be taught some humility and gratitude for their kindness, it was only fair. Respect held the same value as gold.

As for your side of the playing field, dear Y/N, all was going according to your plan. Well, with a few modifications in comparison to the initial version, but things were as they should be and you still had your head attached to your shoulders, so good for you.

Balance mattered most, your modus operandi was simple in its essence. Dance for them, keep them intrigued, enthrall them, but never let them truly claim their prize. Never forget your advantages nor your weaknesses, both were useful tools in their own manner.

Regular vampire hunters were terrified of placing themselves in a passive position and therefore they would lose plenty of opportunities. Error in philosophy. One simply needed a change of perspective.

The dynamic of predator and prey completely shatters into a myriad of mirror shards when the parched predator writhes in agony, while the prey smiles sadistically, just out of reach, just enough for the predator to dream of a feast that will never come. The former becomes the one who begs the latter for mercy, a single drop of blood to keep him from the abyss of starvation. The prey begins to dictate when the predator gets to eat, pulling at the newly made leash as they pleased.

Of course, all of those tidbits of wisdom had come to you after years of practice, intense study and certain other unpleasant situations that had given you a more detailed insight into the inner workings of elite vampire society.

You had been in a very unfavourable position when you had first entered your line of work. Lost, inexperienced, driven only by the strength of a promise and the power of determination. Trial and error had been your initial mentors, holding you by the hand as they introduced you to the more chaotic aspects of the supernatural, assisting you in finding a stable musical rhythm in a dissonant world of death, darkness and deranged tomfoolery.

The brutal world of vampires and hunters was madness incarnate, completely different from the comfortable environment you had known for most of your life. Your home and your family meant everything to you. Playful ghosts and poltergeists, a kind harpy, a supportive werewolf and a gentle bear yeti had done their best to raise you, giving you all of their love ever since you had been left on their doorstep as a child. You had to persist in your endeavours of making the world a safer place for those that wished to live in peace, both humans and benevolent supernatural beings alike.

Undaunted, you had kept marching onward, making your way through the hellish landscape of reality, walking from page to page of the book that was writing itself as you went along.

Still, you had never been truly comfortable in the role of the protagonist, on display for all to see and for all of your foes to know who you were. You desired privacy, the veil of secrecy and the infinite knowledge of the narrator, always present yet never seen. And so, you had adapted accordingly.

Discretion and disguises. Observation and mimicry. The camouflage and wisdom of serpents, the patience and humility of spiders, the continuous flexibility of plants in the wind, ethereal skill of ballet dancers, the silent presence of ghosts, the endurance of ice and the softness of freshly fallen snow, all of it had contributed to the development of your own special philosophy of dealing with powerful opponents.

You were very well aware that you had been blessed with blood far sweeter than that of most humans and therefore you were perfect bait. Your blood had become an important part of your arsenal, on par with blades bathed in holy water, hawthorn stakes, needles, toxins and your trustworthy hand mirror that could create temporary illusions.

Well, even your umbrella that had met its untimely demise in the wind. There had been a small dagger hidden in the handle, and you were rather fond of such a practical weapon. Alas, you would have to procure a new umbrella of that sort. May the old one rest in pieces.

There were many practical ways of dealing with ravenous creatues of the night when desperate times demanded for desperate measures, especially when you needed a quick way of getting a particularly problematic group away from an inhabited area. Weapons were only useful when their target was in range and when one was certain that there would be sufficient success. Confidence was the downfall of the mighty and you had learned that vampires were most confident when they had a bleeding victim in their line of sight.

One time, you had made a few cuts along your forearms, allowing the precious nectar to flow, an invitation to the fountain of life, then you had waited for them to flock. You still remember the sight of glowing eyes in the dark alleys, all of them summoned by your scent, enchanted by the sight of your wounds. You had simply walked away, tricking them into believing that you were on death's doorstep, luring them to follow you to an old underground bunker.

You had stood in one of the dark chambers below ground, hearing them come, hearing them cackle as they thought you were trapped with them. When a sufficient number of vampires had arrived, you had pressed a button on the wall, causing the entrance doors to close, sealing all of you inside, much to the confusion of the entire congregation. Who in their right mind would willingly trap themselves with monsters?

You had been perfectly calm, your eyes colder than death as you struck a match and held it up to activate the fire alarm, sprinklers raining holy water upon every person in the room.

It goes without saying that such a thing had been akin to a rain of acid to them, agony unlike any other, to the point where they barely had the strength to retaliate against you. Sufficiently weakened, they had been powerless against your hawthorn stakes. Problem solved.

Of course, something as simple as that could never work on someone as potent and ancient as a vampire lord. They demanded a completely different treatment altogether and the process would be harrowing. Going against the Celestial Coven was nothing short of insanity and, by the heavens, you were definitely a few cards short of a full deck, Y/N.

Your gracious host noticed that your mind seemed a bit distracted, so he decided to get your attention again.

Eclipse made a swift gesture with his hand, akin to a magician performing a trick. A decorative hair comb appeared in the palm of his hand, adorned with miniature diamond stars and crescent moons. You barely had time to admire its beauty, for he was already positioning it in your hair, adjusting it to stay in place.

“There we go, icing on the cake.“

“I do hope you won't slice me open like one, sir.“

“Preposterous, my dear. You would complain too much and I am just a simple old gentleman that values what is left of his hearing.“

“I'll be taking your word for it. Otherwise I shall be suing you in a civil case for damages and additional compensation for emotional turmoil.“

“You will sue me from beyond the grave?“

“Do not underestimate the power of being petty. Also, you're in pretty good shape for a simple old gentleman, though. What is your secret? Do share.“

“What type of answer do you expect? Macabre rituals, nefarious deeds, unforgivable crimes?“

“Possibly. Unless you wished to say that the key to eternal life is the simple act of getting plenty of fresh air.“

“I would also add the act of surrounding oneself with beautiful company. Therefore, I must thank you for extending my lifespan.“

The whole exchange was absolutely absurd, an immortal flame having a conversation with a whirlwind of snow, one delighted by the whimsy of the other. Two opposite forces, none capable of making the other expire, acid and alkaline, cancelling each other out as their energies meet, dancing in a perfectly neutral zone together.

The mad scientist within him appreciated the way the structures of your souls formed bonds with one another, evolving, changing, approaching a beautiful alchemical transformation.

And yet, each time he tried to fully grasp at the core of your essence, far beyond the area he had been given permission to visit, the soft snow would turn into hard ice, denying him access, refusing to be his playmate. The Night remained incapable of claiming the Morning and Evening for itself, condemned to forever linger on the blurred border where dark blue bleeds into pink and vermilion.

Perhaps a change of tactic was in order.

To your surprise, he moved away, giving you a pat on the head. He then slightly ruffled your hair to tease you. As expected, you had the expression of an offended royal as you tried to get your tresses back in order. You two continued to walk side by side, raindrops making gentle sounds on the glass windows.

Eclipse spoke:

“Do you perchance play chess, morning star?“

“I was never a fan of it, believe it or not.“

“Really? What did that poor innocent game do to you to merit such a low regard?“

“It takes itself too seriously.“

“Do elaborate.“

“One wastes a lot of effort and there is very little payoff. What do we do and what do we gain? Moving a single piece in a limited direction and then having to wait for your foe to do the same thing? Unrewarding. Where is the cost and benefit balance in that? I'd have better results by simply telling the opponent that there is a bomb under his chair and that he should forfeit the game.“

“Morbidly practical. Is there a bomb, though?“

“I am probably bluffing, but he doesn't have to know that.“

“A creative as that is, you would still be avoiding the rules of the initial game, almost as if admitting that you cannot win by ordinary means without cheating. You could put all of that cunning to some good use by figuring out how to capture the enemy king.“

“It is rather unfair that such a stagnant piece decides the game. Catching other pieces is far more fun, they are dynamic and interesting. A challenge. Players are far happier when they capture a rook or a queen. Who would want to go around in circles afterwards to get to the king?“

“I cannot help but notice the mentality of a bounty hunter. Little mercenary on their merry way to collect whichever toys had caught their fancy that day.“

You gave him a rather stern look, your playfulness disappearing, your voice embodying the spirit of Winter.

“I do not appreciate being compared to bounty hunters and mercenaries. They deserve their own circle of eternal damnation. Those who place a price on life know little about its true value.“

You were truthful. You despised your “colleagues“ and you had little empathy for vampire hunters that worked for money. There was nothing more vile than shedding blood for a fee.

You deemed their morals to be as low as that of any other villain. Blood purchased for cash, loss of life placed in proportion to monetary gain, protection given only after a transaction had been made. Unforgivable, deplorable.

Eclipse had sensed a change within you, whimsical snow becoming a downpour of rain, threatening to drown all in its path. He had hit an unexpected sore spot. Interesting. He wanted to know more, he needed that information. For research purposes, of course.

A good alchemist knew when to introduce a proper catalyst and induce a certain reaction. External stimuli held immense power over inner stability, regardless if he was working with inanimate matter, living tissue or spiritual energy. Too bad he didn't have his gold-rimmed workshop goggles with him. Safety measures were important, especially when dealing with a special little star like you.

“Forgive me for being so bold, my dear, but is it not counterintuitive for someone in your specific profession to scoff at monetary value being attached to living beings? Financial inspection is hardly the pinnacle of morality.“

“Potential tax fraud is not really an act of charity, either. Besides, it is important to contribute to the well-being of general society.“

“I would say that my brothers and I are doing an adequate job of keeping worse evils at bay. We are a necessity in the grand mechanism of the universe. Therefore, the cosmic forces permit us a few acts of self-indulgence from time to time.“

“A mountain of lesser evils shall never reach the tower of the greater good, lord Eclipse.“

“Look at you, child of Spring and Winter, all wise and mighty on your high horse. Beware, for the beast's loyalty to the rider is fickle and one day it might rear up and run off, leaving you on the ground with a broken neck.“

“Bold of you to assume I hadn't already survived many falls, sir.“

“And you always get up and pursue the same madness?“

“There is no other route for me.“

“I do hope the Revenue and Audit Bureau values your heroic work. Which bright mind in that fabled insitution had decided to send you, morning star? Are you certain they had your best interests at heart? No good deed goes unpunished, regardless if you are a noble warrior or a mercenary.“

“Does it truly matter? In the end, I act within my discretion and according to my own sense of duty and justice.“

“A tax inspector with a conscience. I suppose I have seen it all now.“

“I lose no sleep, sir. Unlike the others.“

“Such a relief to hear that your slumber remains undisturbed. It would be a shame if dark circles were to appear under those beautiful eyes.“

Fate had a very bad sense of humour for even allowing such a topic to appear in what was supposed to be a casual battle of wits. You had to pull yourself together. You were on a job, you had to keep your mind stable and collected. Nevertheless, the comparison still bothered you. The mere insinuation was enough to cause a miniature storm in your mind.

You had your own reasons for entering the perilous world of hunting monsters and villains. Your actions were born out of necessity and it sickened you that there were scoundrels out there that had turned such a vocation into a lucrative career, having their wealth and glory built upon the bones of others. You had no qualms with going against your own kind in order to protect peaceful communities of supernatural beings from corrupt hunters.

May the heavens have mercy upon such people, for you had none.

You had certainly not given any all of those years ago, when hunters had shamelessly shown up at your house after being tipped off that preternatural creatures were living there. There had been no glory nor honour in that situation. Only a terrified child trying to protect their home and their family, first blood on their hands, tears in their eyes, dead men all around the room, broken vases, torn curtains, shattered mirrors. No winners.

No, no, none of that, you had to keep the balance. Sorrow was a terrible emotion, one that had a corrosive effect on both the joyful mania of Spring and the stern rationality of Winter, dragging them both into the depths of woe, an ocean of overwhelming despair.

Your emotions had momentarily melted some very important protective barriers on the threshold of your mind. Inconvenient timing, especially when there was an obscenely powerful vampiric telepath nearby.

Your luck, Y/N. Tragic.

Focus. You took a deep breath, commanding your inner chaos to freeze in time, each particle of rain suspended in the air, reminiscent of tiny crystals. Not a proper solution, dark clouds were still covering the sky of your mind space and more rain threatened to follow.

Honestly, you truly were blaming your empty stomach at this point. Mood swings and hunger went hand in hand. You sighed, knowing that you had to repair the damage caused by your words. It would be ludicrous to have all of your efforts sink over one moment of emotional weakness.

“I apologize, sir. I was unnecessarily rude and snappy, my anger was not meant to be directed at you. Probably just low blood sugar levels. I will be fine after dinner.“

In your temporary moment of grief, you had failed to notice that Eclipse was far from offended.

The Grand Duke was a scholar and an artisan, gifted with infinite patience, confidently strolling through the darkest forests towards his goals, shadows and monsters bowing with infinite reverence as he passed them by. Master of self, master of all.

Eclipse did not fear setbacks and obstacles, he welcomed and encouraged them, embracing each difficulty as if it were a dear friend. He would then proceed to dissect and disintegrate them, transforming them into something new, all in the name of the eternal cycle of alchemy. One had to place a problem under a microscope, analyze it, extract every particle of new information from its core.

So far he had only been able to read the exterior parts of your soul, the outer courtyard and surrounding areas of your mysterious sanctum. It was a magnificent facade, but he desired to visit the forbidden gardens of your fortified inner castle. Eclipse wanted access to memories, dreams, desires, and the only thing that could truly create such a key, the only substance that could open the cruel gates, was none other than the precious nectar of life that coarsed through your veins and arteries.

The future offered so many possibilities. Your blood on his lips, your blood under a glass lens, something to both savour and study, granting the bliss of a drunken haze where he could grasp at secrets yet uncovered. Exquisite, truly as if observing a star and the many stages of its life in the celestial plain.

He placed a hand on your cheek, his touch unusually tender.

“Morning star, look at me.“

And you did. No matter how brief our grief, human instinct would forever urge us to seek comfort and relief. Even if a monster were the one offering it.

There was something marvellously ironic when it came to the old saying about the eyes being the windows to the soul. It just so happened that vampires were very talented when it came to sneaking through windows and captivating the minds of their victims with their gaze alone.

One single second of eye contact, one glance into the fields of the mindscape, that was all that he needed to latch his claws onto the windowsill of your inner sanctum, crawling within, as if entering the precious chamber of slumbering prey.

When you had first arrived on their doorstep, his initial attempt had failed, your spirit strong enough to banish him from its sacred realm. The keys that had been used to unlock the gates of your mind at that time were Curiosity and Infatuation. Short-lived results. The current key was Sorrow, far more potent, but he was aware that you would eventually command him to leave once more. Therefore, he had to use his time wisely.

A majority of vampires possessed psychic abilities, but none had ever reached Eclipse's level. His true kingdom was the Subconscious. Desires, dreams, memories. The echoes of Self were not merely present in the “head“, but also coursing through the body, dynamic and ever-changing. Our blood remembered each moment of stress, joy, terror, pleasure, it contained the collective experience of each and every cell it had ever paid visit to on its journey.

A few drops of blood were enough for Eclipse to form a bond that could grant him infinite access to the psyche, and what better way to immortalize such a union than by binding the blood to the intricate structure of a glowing jewel?

One may say that Eclipse's magic was an inverted version of Sun's, both being a subset of a vampire's natural telepathic power. However, Sun focused on external illusions, tricks of the eye, visibility and invisibility, colours that existed in the reality around us, controlling the perception of others and making them see what he wanted them to see.

Now, let us resume with the Grand Duke's perspective upon entering the foyer of your mind. Well, the outskirts would be a far better word.

Springtime paradise along the border, gentle dahlia flowers of all shades and hues resting in the labyrinthine gardens, each flower containing a gem in its center, emotions and memories stored within. Dahlias were members of the Asteraceae family, coincidentally once more affirming the astral motif that had been so prominent about you.

Eclipse's cloak billowed in the wind as he walked through the field, the flowers around him turning to ice as soon as he went past. The environment had made it known to him that he was not welcome. Snowy mountains were in the distance, where Winter reigned, the horizon a deep midnight blue, a layer of pink and violet aurora borealis undulating like gauze in the faraway skies.

He kneeled down, wishing to caress the soft petals and inspect the gems residing in each bud. And yet, as soon as his clawed fingers reached for a pink bloom, cruel frost took over, denying him access. Within seconds, the initial vernal bliss was replaced with a realm of crystalline plants.

“My darling doth try to hide behind the frost of wintertide.“

Ominous clouds gathered above, undoubtedly remnants of the storm he had caused earlier. Soft thunder, subdued, yet resolute. Raindrops made their way towards the ground, but suddenly their progress was hindered and they froze mid-fall.

Enchanted by such a display, Eclipse held up his hand, gathering a few icy raindrops that were floating around him. He inspected them. Beautiful, clear, cold, almost akin to a diamond. No, not a good fit, diamonds did not fully encompass your personality. He had never had such difficulty determining the proper jewel for someone.

Frost had begun to gather along the fabric of his cloak, spreading into a myriad of intricate patterns, almost as if trying to entrap him. He grinned, waving his wrist and summoning miniature flames to remove the glistening verglas from his garments. The environment was sentient and it seemed quite offended by his actions, and for a second he could have sworn that he heard an indignant “hmpf“ echo across the fields.

A spectral version of you appeared in front of him, an embodiment of your subconscious mind, subtle annoyance present in the apparition's glowing eyes. Your inner Self commanded the raindrops to condense together and form a blade of ice, swinging it towards Eclipse. Suave as ever, the Grand Duke caught the sharp edge between his fingers as if it were as gentle as a feather, using a minimum of his strength to shatter it into a plethora of crystal shards.

Before your inner Self could properly react, Eclipse grasped their hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, acting with the ardent reverence of a lover.

“Wonderful security system you have here, my dear. Point already taken, I am not wanted in your kingdom. I shan't be disturbing for long tonight, we have plenty of time to enjoy our happy little nightmare together.“

Blushing and flustered, your inner Self scoffed, disappearing in a gust of smoke. Wrought iron gates materialized from the ground, blocking Eclipse's path from the rest of the area. He was about to turn around and leave, but suddenly he could hear the whispers of the past coming from the other side of the fence.

It was not for his ears, not for his eyes, and he was fully aware of it. Nevertheless, he approached the gates once more, bearing witness to the many shifts and changes of scenery. A quaint old mansion appeared in the distance. It had a sophisticated style, but one could definitely see the signs of Time taking its toll, several parts falling into disrepair.

You, or rather a memory of you, were sitting on a garden bench, reading, an additional pile of books waiting for your attention next to you.

A trio of silly poltergeists with propeller hats appeared above your head, giggling as they snatched your book away. You looked upwards, surprised, slightly irked, but not truly angry. In a way it reminded Eclipse of the same look he would give to his brothers when they were teasingly reminding him of that one time he got stuck in the castle's secret passageways.

You reached for your book, but they merely floated away. Suddenly, a ghost of a fox-like pirate manifested to chastise the poltergeist siblings for their mischief. The trio made a little apology and returned the book to you, after which they all managed to land on your head and read along with you.

A bear yeti with kind eyes and a gentle smile came out of the house after hearing all the commotion. He was accompanied by a stern werewolf lady that was assisting him as he walked, helping him keep balance, his limp indicating an old injury that had never properly healed.

The whole group assembled around you, keeping you company as you began to read out loud for them all. A cheerful harpy joined you soon after, bringing a tray of cupcakes for everyone to enjoy.

Interesting. Very, very interesting.

Eclipse pressed his palm against the cold metal of the gate lock, assessing its strength. Impossible to open, not without the key that only your precious blood could procure for him. Such a mind, playing between two extremes, as enticing as the cogs within a clock, as unfathomable as the power of a nascent star.

The skies began to clear, clouds dissolving into oblivion, replaced by the gentle pink and blue hues entwined in their eternal celestial dance, impossible to tell whether it was early morning or late evening. Nevertheless, the legendary star was visible, watching over all.

Loving memories seemed to serve as a stabilizer for you, a comfort that brought equilibrium. Eclipse's golden eyes looked down at the frozen plants once more, having noticed that a single dahlia flower had freed itself from its glacial prison, tender petals showing off their magenta splendour. The gem in its center reflected the astral majesty in the sky.

Without further ado, the Grand Duke reached to claim his prize, holding the flower and the gem in his clutches with the fervour of an astronomer that had finally discovered a new world.

“Ever-changing star sapphire, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Do pardon my intrusion, but I will require your esteemed assistance in the process of reaching your owner's core, I hope you do not mind. Shall we?“

With a silent yet sinister laugh, Eclipse transformed into a shadowy phantom, his spectral form making a final bow to show reverence to your inner kingdom, before disappearing completely.

Mere seconds had passed in the “real“ world and thankfully your conscious self had not even realized he had paid your mind a little visit.

You moved his hand away from your cheek.

“As I said, I will be fine after dinner, no need to worry about me. You seem rather focused, though. Is there something stuck in my eye, sir?“

“Yes, but I scared it away.“

“What?“

“Oh, look. Here it is.“

You tilted your head in confusion, blinking at him as if he were mad. Well, he probably was, but still. Eclipse made a few elegant gestures with his fingers, not unlike earlier when he was conjuring that beautiful decorative comb for you.

An oval star sapphire appeared in the palm of his hand for you to see. Its colours were shifting from pink to blue, forming lovely shades of indigo when blended together, before parting ways once more. As accustomed you had gotten to Eclipse's magic, you would probably never fully get used to it, the sheer limitless absurdity of it.

“I was wondering what stone to use to make a perfect ornament for you and I finally found it. This little treasure represents you in every sense of the term, my love.“

Instinctively, you reached for the jewel, but Eclipse moved his hand out of your grasp.

“No, no, you haven't earned it yet.“

“Wasn't it supposedly mine in the first place, though?“

“Pardon, I should probably change my wording. I meant that you haven't earned it back, yet.“

“And I can earn it back how?“

“Either defeat me in our duel or in a chess party. Here, an additional incentive for you. Another one of our infamous parlour tricks.“

He made a circular motion with his finger, commanding the matter of the gem to morph into whichever shape he desired, going through various forms before settling for the elegant shape of a chess piece. Magic and beauty notwithstanding, you were slightly disappointed with the type of piece he had chosen. Eclipse noticed your displeasure and spoke:

“No need to pout, my dear. It will be all yours, I promise.“

“Why am I a pawn, though?“

“You need to work a little bit to get promoted from pawn to queen.“

“Rude.“

The storm outside had subsided in the meantime, but only for the moment. After all, it had to clear the stage for the tempests that were yet to come.

AO3

[ghosty-writing]

Death Note One-Shot(?)

A duel POV between Light and L, detailing their manipulative relationship with each other.

Word Count: 1,562

Rating: G

Warnings: Manipulation, Brief mentions of gore

– • –

It was almost laughably easy.

From the moment Light met Ryuga– Ryuzaki– no, L, he could tell the detective could be bought. Not with money or favours, no. That would be too obvious. L could be bought with love.

The first time, it had been an accident. While walking around the University campus, Light accidentally let his hand brush L’s. It was a split second of barely-there contact, but it was enough. L and Light were just about matched when it came to masking their emotions, but that made them excellent at reading each other. So when L’s cowed gait paused for a fraction of a millisecond and his voice cracked at that moment, Light knew what he needed to do.

He had to keep it slow. Working over L wasn’t like seducing Misa. Misa would do anything Light asked of her, no questions asked. Her devotion was undoubted. But L was not like that. His distrustful nature caused him to scrutinise every one of Light’s actions, innocuous or not. The looming “Kira percentage” hung over his head like a noose. But even a noose was made of rope.

And Light had the sharpest scissors around.

For this to work properly, Light kept their relationship platonic. But the promise of something more held thick in the air. He made that quite clear. The small graze of kneecaps while sitting close to one another, an occasional complement of his intellect, the very rare arm around his shoulder, all of which he knew made L weak. Everyone else may be fooled, but Light wasn’t. 

Soon, L became the primary instigator of their physical contact. He became increasingly touchy as time went on, actively reaching out for Light’s comfort. Friendly pats and shoves turned into a constant vice grip on Light’s sleeve, careful banter turned into intelligent conversation and debate. All according to plan.

After Light and Misa’s confinement, things had changed, though. While of course, he couldn’t remember the Death Note or his role as Kira, Light continued his objective. Something in him knew he needed to get closer. But L’s idea with the handcuffs only made it easier. Sometimes Light wondered if he did it on purpose. But it doesn't matter. It would all turn out the way he wanted in the end. 

While their relationship remained ambiguous for now, Light was sure that would change soon.

“Light,” L’s voice remained steady, as always, “Are you… ready for bed?” He clutched a laptop in that odd way of his, pinched between his forefingers and thumbs, which couldn’t have been easy with the device’s weight. 

“‘Bed?’ That’s a first for you, Ryuzaki.” He commented, spinning towards L in his chair. Light chuckled, “What’s going on?” ‘Ask about his feelings. Act concerned.’ That voice in the back of his head said.

L looked up at the ceiling, remaining in silence for several quiet seconds. He bit his bottom lip tentatively before speaking, “It is 1:42 AM, Light. All the rest of the Task Force have returned to their residences. Usually you insist upon us returning to our room by 10:00 PM– no later. You’ve indulged me tonight. I would like to return the favour, per se. You’re only human. You depend on sleep.”

A crease formed upon his hair-covered brow, tensing at the word human. He was obviously looking for a reaction from the man he presumed to be Kira. 

Light didn’t give him what he wanted. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.” He stood from his chair, powering down his computer. A few steps forward and he landed mere inches from L’s face. On purpose, of course. 

If L didn’t stand with such awful posture, the two would be about the same height, perhaps even taller. But like this, Light looked down at him, a gentle played smile on his face. He didn’t miss when L stared down at those lips.

“Well?” Light laughed when L remained transfixed, “Are we going to bed or not?” 

L stared a moment longer, “Yes, of course.” Unceremoniously, he whipped around and started out the door, dragging Light with him.

Hook, line, and sinker.

– • –

L is not a stupid man. Quite the contrary, in fact. He’s literally the smartest man in the world. L holds the position of the top three best detectives to have ever lived. He’s solved countless cases in mere weeks that officials couldn’t in years. 

But if he really is all that, why couldn’t he figure out Light Yagami?

The teenager, only two years his junior, could somehow manipulate him into whatever this was. L did not– could not make attachments. Anyone who got close to him more often than not suffered for it. He trained his mind out of feelings like love or care for another human being so long ago. But it all went down the drain when he met Light.

L had never been one to appreciate physical attractiveness or charm (most serial killers were extremely attractive and charming men, after all) until he first laid eyes upon the chief’s son in real life. Watching Light over cameras in his room was one thing, pure investigation– clinical. Then, on stage at the To-Oh University entrance ceremony, he set eyes upon that (for lack of a better term) god-like smile. L instantly understood why so many girls fell head-over-heels for him. 

If Light really did end up being Kira, L didn’t know what he’d do.

Then, when Light started to initiate closer contact, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, grabbing his hand over a table to show him something, L started to short-circuit. Completely blue-screen for a few seconds. 

L knew he was being played, to an extent. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew getting close to Light was a poor decision. As nice as the other man’s comfort felt, a more rational part of him vied to pull away and yell at him, scream “I know you’re Kira, Light! Quit the act already and tell me what you want!”

Of course, he couldn’t say that. It was much too direct and would probably only worsen his situation. So unfortunately, the less rational, more emotional part of L he thought had long been dead, resurrected and possessively wrapped his arms around Light like a child refusing to let go of a toy. But for now, he kept it under wraps. Out of sight, out of mind.

“You’ve acted odd today, Ryuzaki.” Light popped into the corner of his vision, emerging from their shared bathroom. The handcuff on his wrist pulled taut from their distance. 

L raised a brow, “Have I?” He typed away at his laptop, perched under the covers in their bed.

“Yes.” Crossing to the other side of the bed, Light methodically pulled the sheets down, folding them back without a crease in sight. L could not understand how he stayed so meticulous this sleep-deprived. “First, you hardly talk at the Task Force meeting, then you hardly eat all day, and now you’re the one insisting we head to bed. On a normal day, I have to drag you kicking and screaming to even get you out of the office.”

“Incorrect. I do not kick nor scream. I merely don’t function on the same amount of sleep as other people.” He did not look up when Light settled beside him, folding his hands behind his head. If he gazed upon those near-perfect cheekbones in the dim light of the lamp, L would simply never recover. He focused on the spreadsheet he was typing.

Light let out an exasperated sigh, nudging him with an elbow. “That’s not an answer to my question.” 

“You never asked one.”

“Well– It was implied.”

“Please learn to speak plainly, Light. You are well aware I am not adept at social cues.” Click clack click clack.

Light groaned, “You’re really insufferable, you know, right? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He put a hand over L’s, putting an end to his work. “If you’re feeling sick, you should really rest. Kira will still be there in the morning.” 

“You sound quite certain about that,” L kept his focus on the computer, although he had stopped typing anything. Deflect. Deflect. “How will you know Kira will be there in the morning? It almost seems like you want me to be sick…” 

Light threw his hands in the air, the chain whooshing up in front of L’s face. “Alright, whatever– Be like that. God forbid I try to help once in a while, jeez.” And the wall went right back up, separating their minds once again. L usually had no trouble reading people– Matsuda called him a “human lie detector”– but Light was different. Light’s psyche was one he simply couldn’t crack, and for seemingly no reason. But for some reason, it felt like the other boy could stare right into L’s very soul. Sooner or later, he expected to be dead because of it. 

Visions of Light reaching into his chest and tearing out his heart danced through his mind. Honestly, if Light really did do it, L probably wouldn’t object. And that’s scary.

Light rolled over in bed, facing away from him. L continued to click clack away at his keyboard all the night, only pausing a few times to listen to Light breathe. 

And improvement from last night, at least.

– • –

Thanks so much for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated, as I’m just getting started posting my writing! I may write more of this AU(?) if this gets enough attention/I get motivated, so keep an eye out for that…

Love you all! <3

[il-predestinato]

Let’s test your speed writing shall we? 😛

Hmm… my favourite number maybe? 38 🥺🧡

38. "Small Talk" by Katy Perry; pairing - lestappen (what a surprise!)

I just can't believe We went from strangers to lovers to strangers in a lifetime

So... Al, this one completely got away from me: it’s um... slightly longer than 5 sentences (2093 words apparently).

send me an ask with a number between 1 and 100 and I'll write a 5ish sentence fic inspired by that song on my 2022 wrapped playlist!

Title: One Day

Summary: The Monaco Grand Prix is cursed.

Day 37

Max always remembers. Charles always forgets.

Max remembers the address of Charles' apartment in Monte Carlo. (Charles told him on Day 5. Not too shabby, thought Max, for two people who were never friends and closer to enemies.) This time, he goes there first. The speech is well-rehearsed by now. It was a blabbering mess on Day 9, and Charles nearly tossed him off the balcony. (Day 10 was worse; Charles actually called Christian, fuck his life, and nearly called a sports psychologist before Max yeeted his phone off the balcony in desperation.) By Day 13, Max had a polished version of 'the speech'. By now, he could probably rhyme it off in his sleep. Not that it ever yielded any better results, so he abandoned this approach on Days 30 to 36. And that got him nowhere either. So back to square one.

He waits patiently for the five stages of grief to cycle past on speedrun; to give Charles some credit, despite the lack of memory retention, he did seem to get over it quicker and quicker each time. Perhaps something of each Day lingered, even if it wasn't remembrance per se.

"So it's always at Nouvelle Chicane or Le Portier?" questions Charles, hands rubbing at his temples.

Max nods, and then shakes his head. "At the Swimming Pool once," he amends. "On Day 12, I think... a crane fell on my head."

"Why was there even a crane?!" Charles groans, scandalized.

Max shrugs. He hasn't even told Charles about Day 31; a jewel thief literally ran across the race track and smashed a briefcase full of diamonds straight into Charles' helmet at 285 kph.

"So sometimes you die, and sometimes I die?" mumbles Charles with a frown.

"It doesn't matter who," confirms Max. "Then the Day restarts with my alarm going off at 7 am."

-

Day 38

"You've got to be kidding!"

Max is trying not to smile, but Charles looks absolutely petulant.

Charles glares at him. "I died at La Rascasse?" He throws both hands up in the air. "Like... how?! La Rascasse! At the hairpin?! I drive faster to the supermarket, mon dieu!"

"This time I think you took Lando with you -"

Panicked green eyes met his. "Oh, putain!" screeches Charles. "Did I kill Lando? Oh my God, oh my God. Max, please tell me I didn't -"

"Relax, mate." Max rubs both temples. Why is he always cursed to remember? "Everything resets. Lando will be fine."

"But are you sure?" insists Charles anxiously.

Max squeezes him gently on the shoulder. A little shiver runs up his arm, and he's not sure why. This wasn't exactly their first physical contact off the track. (Some Days he can remember more vividly than others; he's not quite ready to admit that the hug from Charles is the reason he remembers Day 9 more clearly than the 29 days that followed.)

"I promise," he says softly. "I got both George and Lance on Day 24, and they both came back just fine the next day."

-

Day 40

“Okay, what if we kill someone else first?”

Max is both impressed and mildly alarmed. It really didn’t take Charles all that long to make the leap from ‘wallow in despair about the unbreakable curse’ to ‘let’s move on to murder.’

“It won’t work.” He shakes his head. “Day 17. Toto and Helmut sort of decapitated each other mid-race, but the Day didn’t end until Carlos put me into the barrier.”

“Toto and Helmut did what?”

-

Day 43

"Tell me what happened yesterday."

Max freezes. The ache in his chest hasn't dulled at all.

Yesterday.

“It’s easier if I show you,” he murmurs, as he tries to ignore the sting in the corners of his eyes.

He steps closer to Charles. He hesitates.

The problem is that he has spent 42 Days with Charles, while Charles has spent none of those Days with him.

He laughs inwardly. But then again, Charles won’t remember this Day either, so what does he have to lose?

Boldness, grief, desire - seizes his chest all at once - and he gathers Charles’ face between his hands; for a fraction of a second, he realizes that Charles isn’t flinching, isn’t moving away. He kisses the soft lips, the very same ones he kissed for the first time yesterday.

Charles kisses him back. And it’s like it was yesterday again.

-

Day 61

It’s worse when he is the cause of death.

-

Day 87

No, it’s worse when Charles dies in his arms.

-

Day 90

He’s wrong again. Nothing is worse than seeing the grief in those green eyes as Max dies in his arms.

Max wants to rip at the gaping wound in his chest. Let him bleed out faster. Let it be tomorrow already.

-

Day 91

“Tell me what happened yesterday.”

Max laughs and sobs. (He sobs in joy.)

He thanks all the stars that Charles didn’t remember. That Charles never remembers.

-

Day 113

“I wish I could remember,” confesses Charles. “It doesn’t seem fair that you know so much about me, and I know almost nothing about you.” He traces his hand along Max’s exposed chest, nestling his face deeper into the crook of Max’s neck.

Max lets him explore. He selfishly loves it. There’s a certain awe in Charles’ expression that he adores, the way he “learns” (relearns) Max’s body each time.

“It’s better that you don’t,” he teases, going for levity this time. “It’s the only way I can guarantee you mind-blowing sex every time, like you’ve never experienced.”

Charles punches him lightly on the sternum. (Max smiles; it’s kinder than the mean little pinch Charles gave him on Day 99.)

“Let’s stay in bed today,” he suggests. “No racing today.”

Charles nods, pressing a feathery kiss to his collarbone. “Maybe that’s the trick.”

Max doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they already tried: Day 7, Day 21, Day 78, Days 103-109. If anything, they always died faster.

-

Day 188

“I love you,” Charles tells him.

Butterflies dance in his chest, and Max fights to maintain composure, just like he did all the previous times when Charles said those words. “You’ve only been with me for a few hours.”

“More than half a year,” corrects Charles.

Has it been that long? Max doesn’t say out loud.

He squeezes Max’s hand on their way out the door, on the way to the race track (on the way to their doom).

“Even if I don’t say it tomorrow, or the Day after that, or for a few Days,” insists Charles. “Just remember that I love you. Always. Even if I don’t remember it.”

-

Day 213

Charles dies for the fifteenth Day in a row.

Max prays to a deity that he doesn’t believe in.

-

Day 219

Charles dies for the twenty-first Day in a row.

Max curses the deity he doesn’t believe in. He vows to let the world break its fucking neck if it means he can keep Charles.

-

Day 220

He tries a different approach. He reaches for all the ugly parts of him that he once swore he would never become.

“- and that is why you will never win the Monaco Grand Prix,” he snarls at Charles, even as he feels his chest - his whole body - fracturing. He wants to bite until he bleeds and swallow his own tongue, but he ploughs on for Charles’ sake. “You will never live up to what you promised your father or Jules -”

Charles punches him. Hard.

It hurts.

He’s glad it hurts. Maybe if Charles hates him, like the universe did, maybe then - just maybe - he might live.

-

Day 224

“I didn’t mean it,” he swallows thickly. “I didn’t mean any of it -”

Charles kisses away whatever apology he was trying to form in his throat.

He can’t help but think: If Charles could remember, truly remember, he would never forgive me.

-

Day 330

Today, he doesn’t go to Charles at all.

Maybe he is the problem.

The poison that feeds this curse. He is the constant variable after all, the part of the equation that dooms them to this eternal purgatory.

-

Day 359

Charles tries to go to him.

He never accounted for that.

Max wants to open that door. Just one twist of the door knob, and Charles will be on the other side. Beautiful, kind, brave Charles. He wants -

It takes every might of his willpower to pull his hand away from the door.

-

Day 362

It’s raining. It never rains. This Day is always, unfailingly sunny.

Charles is in his arms once again, bleeding out on the pavement. The rain tries to wash the blood away. Tries to wash Charles away.

He’s crying, but Charles can’t see that, because the rain washes his tears away too.

“I should have been with you.”

All that wasted time. And for what?

He hasn’t seen Charles for twenty-two Days, but the green eyes that stare back at him are calm, even as the life behind them fades with every passing second.

“You’re with me now,” whispers Charles weakly.

“I love you,” he sobs. He doesn’t care if he’s practically a stranger to this Charles, the one dying in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

When Charles’ eyes close at last, his face is peaceful, almost the hint of a smile tugging on his lips. A little bit of pain departs with the last breath that Max releases before his world fades to black.

-

Day 363

Charles launches a baguette at his head, and Max cannot believe the man still insists that he doesn’t possess a single iota of French ancestry.

“You abandoned me for how many days?” Charles’ accusation makes him flinch harder than the impact of the baguette on his forehead.

“Schat, I -”

Charles growls at him. “Don’t ‘schat’ me! First of all, I have no idea what that means -”

Max makes an offended noise. Charles loves his pet name, if only he could remember.

“Second of all,” continues Charles relentlessly, “I may not remember, but I felt it.”

That causes Max to fall silent.

“Oh.”

Charles sniffs, picking up the discarded baguette off the floor. “I don’t know how to explain it, but even when I don’t remember, I feel all of it. I can feel everything we went through.”

-

Day 365

Some Days are easier than others. He’s not sure which Day this one is yet. A quick, painless death after a long, beautiful day of laughter? They even made it past the actual race twice. (The first time, Charles drowned in the Monte Carlo harbour during the after party; it remains the one and only time he’s ever won the Monaco Grand Prix, which Max continues to tease him about. The second time, Daniel accidentally cracked Max’s skull with the podium champagne.) Or will it be a painful, drawn out death after a gloomy, joyless day? (Max is still embarrassed about that time he slipped on a bar of soap in the shower on Day 81, ending the Day about 15 minutes after it had started.)

Charles lays a bowl of tomato soup in front of him.

(Max once told him that he loved tomato soup. Maybe 150 Days ago. Maybe earlier than that. He mentioned it only once. Not that Charles ever remembers.)

Somehow Charles always remembers.

“So what’s the plan today?” asks Charles lightly.

The morning sun is streaming through the pearly white curtains, and a crown of light dances around Charles’ soft brown curls. A soft breeze through the open window wafts the tangy aroma of tomato soup towards him.

He takes Charles’ hand in his own and pulls him down so he can taste him on his lips.

“Just being with you,” he whispers, and his heart lightens when Charles rewards him with a dimpled smile. “If I have to live one Day over and over again, then I’m going to spend that Day with you.”

He understands now.

He thought the universe had cursed him. Had cursed them. But even a single Day with Charles was a gift. And he got to relive it over and over again. He won’t waste it again.

-

Day 366 Tomorrow

The alarm doesn’t go off at 7 am.

He only wakes up when the warm duvet is rudely snatched away from him, leaving him shivering in the crisp morning air. A pair of ice cold feet burrows their way into the warm space between his thighs, and a whiplash of messy brown hair makes his eyes sting after settling on his pillow.

-

Hope you enjoyed, @alestire

That kind of... spiralled.

[aylacavebear]

Retribution Chapter 7

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Talk of DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Angst, some Fluff, Healing (yes, this is a warning).

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7 - Picking Up The Pieces Pt. 1

You took a deep breath as you stirred slightly in your sleep, the morning calling you to wake. At the moment, your mind was fairly blank of thoughts, and you didn’t want to open your eyes just yet. The warmth behind you, the arm draped over your waist, and his warm breath on your neck made you smile contently.

“Mornin, Sweetheart,” he hummed, pulling you closer.

“Morning, Handsome,” you giggled.

Dean’s breath caught in his chest. She had called him that, and now, he dared to hope that somewhere, she was still in there, a part of you.

“You okay?” you asked him, as you’d felt him almost freeze behind you. Now, turning so you could look at him, lying on your back.

Even in the dark you’d have been able to make out his features, and he yours.

“I am now,” he replied, giving you that soft, sweet smile as he caressed your cheek, which you leaned into, closing your eyes.

Please still be in there, he thought, praying to anyone who could hear his thoughts.

You rolled onto your side, wrapping your arm around him and snuggling into his chest, inhaling his scent. It was comforting and calming to be in his arms like this. He hadn’t shunned you for all that had been done. He was still here, by choice. You couldn’t remember everything, not at the moment, but at least your mind felt calmer.

You’d put him through hell for far too long, and the last month had been horrible. 

“I’d suggest just staying in bed all day, but I really feel like I need a shower,” you pouted while still staying close to him.

“If things were different, I’d offer to help,” he smirked.

You giggled, enjoying the playfulness of the morning with him, “I missed this,” you sighed.

“So did I,” he replied softly, kissing the top of your head. “How about I make you some breakfast while you shower? Then we can eat together and talk.”

You were smiling, but suddenly, you froze as one word reverberated in your mind: talk. 

“Hey, no, don’t get like that. It’s not like before. I really do just want to talk, find out how you’re doing,” he tried to reassure you, somehow help you relax.

“I guess I’m just worried…” you replied, trailing off at the end.

“Well, don’t be. We’ll get through this,” he began, then gently lifted your chin so he could look at you and you him, “I’m not going anywhere. I want to know about you.”

You didn’t want to cry today. You knew you’d spent the last month crying so much, even if it had been needed and even helped. You’d even woken up feeling some sense of normality this morning, for what felt like the first time ever in your life.

The way he looked at you made you bite your lip, and you could tell he wanted to kiss you. Hell, you wanted to kiss him, too, but you also knew what that would have led to. As he held your chin gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, revealing the smile you’d been trying to control.

“I really want to kiss you,” his words laced with the tension that had built quickly between the two of you.

“If you kiss me, I won’t make it to the shower, and I… I really should eat something,” you told him, although your body had already begun reacting to him.

Dean sighed, kissing your forehead, not wanting to push you or force you to choose between the inner battle he could clearly tell you were having. “Then you go shower, and I’ll get breakfast going.”

You watched him get out of bed, and you felt terrible about the whole situation, “I do want to kiss you. I just… I kinda feel weird about things. It’s hard to explain,” you confessed quietly.

He slipped his shoes on before sitting on the bed next to where you were lying, “I’m not mad or upset. I’m not the most patient man, but I can wait. I don’t want you to feel rushed.” 

You sighed as he caressed your cheek again, smiling down at you as you leaned into his touch again while closing your eyes. You took his hand and pressed your lips to his palm before looking up at him.

“Thank you,” you told him with utter sincerity, making his smile grow slightly.

The shower felt wonderful as did clean, comfortable clothes. You knew the last month had been hard, but you felt as though you hadn’t bathed in almost a week. It also felt like you hadn’t changed your clothes in almost as long.

Your hair was still damp when you made your way to the kitchen. A smile came to your lips when you saw Dean cooking, barely noticing Sam and Cas sitting at the table. When you had DID, there were a lot of things you’d wanted to do that your personalities refused to let you. With them gone now, nothing was stopping you.

Dean jumped a little, feeling your arms wrap around his waist as you leaned into his back, holding him close from behind. You’d only ever been able to do this a handful of times, and it never lasted long. He held your hands with one of his as he continued cooking, or at least was attempting to. When you felt a tear hit your arm, you looked up at him, then moved around so you could see his face, “I’m sorry,” you apologized and began pulling away, worried you’d upset him.

He took a deep breath, stopping the tears he hadn’t been able to hold back, “You have nothing to apologize for.” Then, he pulled you close again, and you rested your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “You can do that anytime you want to. I like it.”

You wanted to press him with questions, wanted to understand why he was crying if he liked it, but you didn’t. You just nodded against his chest and held him until he let you go so he could finish cooking.

You didn’t see the surprise and shock on Sam’s face at the small interaction between you and Dean. Sam was still skeptical that your DID was gone, that all of this was nothing more than some trick or game you were playing to hurt his brother, again.

“I should let you cook,” you finally told him, unable to look up at him, but you did feel him sigh as he slowly let go of you.

Slowly, you stepped away from him and glanced at the eggs in the pan before walking toward the table. Then, you stopped halfway there. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you wanted to just hide in your room again. It was easier than facing them.

With a slow, deep breath, you finally forced yourself to at least go stand near the table, looking more at the floor and tabletop. “I’m sorry, for everything. I know I can’t change what happened in the past. But…” you paused, biting your lip momentarily, “...I can promise I would rather die than let anything like that happen again.”

You didn’t wait for a response from Sam or Cas. You just went over to the center island and leaned your back against it, keeping your gaze on the floor. Memories of the last month replayed in your mind. Part of you still felt like making that deal with Crowley would or could partially make up for what you’d done when you had DID.

Cas stood before you and placed his hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts and forcing you to look up at him. “Y/N, I know you meant what you said. I also know that the DID is gone. You’ll get through this, and I’m here as a friend. Don’t be afraid to figure out who you are now that the others are gone,” he said softly, even giving you a kind smile.

Whether you wanted to or not, tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, even as you fought against them. All you could manage to do was mouth the words ‘thank you’ before you looked away from him. He gave you a slight nod before returning to his seat at the table.

Sam just sat there, torn. Cas was an angel, so he knew the truth, and Sam wanted so badly to believe him, to believe the DID you’d had was gone. But if he was being honest with himself, he just couldn’t believe it. You’d hurt all of them and some of their friends for far too long for Sam just to give you a clean slate.

Your thoughts seemed to get all jumbled together, and you couldn’t make heads or tails of where one began and another ended. It was frustrating and overwhelming, and again, you wanted just to be alone. 

“Sweetheart?” Dean asked cautiously from the other side of the island.

You turned, attempting a smile, but it was a sad one, “I’m sorry.” You’d tried to keep your voice from breaking, but you couldn’t, and the wave of tears made you run back to your room.

Closing the door quickly behind you, you sat down in the middle of your bed, knees up and holding them close to you as you bawled your eyes out. This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your day, lost in the sea of sadness that felt like it was drowning you.

How can I fix any of this?

A knock on your door startled you, and you quickly wiped away the tears as it opened. Dean stepped in, cautiously with a plate of food in hand. The way he looked at you, like you were going to snap at him or go off on him, broke your heart, and you had to look away, or you wouldn’t be able to keep from crying more.

“Brought you some breakfast,” he told you softly, setting the plate on your night table.

“Thank you,” you replied with a quiet sadness.

He sighed silently, “If you want to eat alone, I’d understand.”

Dean turned to walk away, but you reached out and held his arm lightly, “I do want to eat with you.” You were quiet and couldn’t look up at him, but he at least heard the sincerity in your words.

“I’ll be back with mine in a couple minutes,” he replied, smiling a little, daring yet again to hope.

I have to figure out who I am, and what kind of person I want to be. I know what I don’t want to be like. I also have to figure out what I want.

You knew you had to start somewhere. You’d spent a month running from so much, or at least attempting to run. At least now you were in a safe place, and Dean hadn’t shunned you. You even understood why Sam was still so distant.

After taking a few deep breaths, you managed to calm most of your emotions. That was when Dean returned to your room, his plate of food in his hand. You watched him as he sat down at the foot of your bed. At first, you were slightly puzzled, but then it dawned on you. He was overly cautious, like he was waiting for you to snap.

It hurt, even if you did understand, “I’m not gonna yell at you,” you told him quietly, looking away from him and grabbing your plate, setting it in your lap.

He moved a little closer but still kept some distance between the two of you. You both ate in silence for half the meal before you spoke up.

“This is really good,” you told him before taking another bite, your focus still on your plate.

Dean looked over at you, hope in his eyes, but you missed it and the smile your words brought. “Thanks, Sweetheart.” He watched you for almost a full minute. Dean had been a hunter and knew how to notice the little things that people did. He was watching for the things he’d gotten used to seeing, but so far, none of them were happening. 

There weren’t several different emotions crossing your expression or a change in how your eyes focused on things. You didn’t even have those slight muscle twitches that your other personalities had done in the past. 

“Is it weird, being alone in your head?” he asked cautiously, but there was also curiosity there.

“Kind of,” you answered quietly, unsure how to explain it. “It’s like I have these memories in my head that are from someone else’s life, but at the same time, they’re also like my memories. It’s just… weird.”

Dean couldn’t wholly fathom having someone else in his head, let alone several personalities. He had equated it to being possessed since that was all he had that was remotely similar. For him, it reminded him of when he’d turned into a demon due to the mark of Cain. 

After a few more bites, you spoke quietly, “I know I don’t want to be like them, the mean ones. But I know someone can’t have a good side without a dark side.” You felt the anxiety grip at your chest, and breathing became harder.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he tried to reassure you. Yeah, he had questions and wanted to know what was going on with you, but it looked as though it was harder on you than he’d anticipated.

“I guess I just need time to figure out who I am without them,” you said quietly, your eyes on your plate.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, just as before, and it hurt to hear how cautious he was with his words towards you.

You finally looked up at him, and sadness filled your eyes, “Don’t treat me like them, please.”

Dean was mildly confused, but he at least had an idea of what you meant. You still looked like you, so seeing you as a completely different person was hard. He could see some pieces of your personalities within you: the way you spoke, the sadness in your eyes, your determined stubbornness, and then there was the softness.

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, giving you that understanding smile.

The two of you finished breakfast in silence. You thanked him again when he took your plate and left your room. For a while, you just sat there, lost in your whirlwind of thoughts. At least the memories weren’t overwhelming like they had been. Now, you just had to deal with your own thoughts of what to do now.

Every time you looked at any of them, you wanted to break down in tears or apologize repeatedly for the things that had happened. That was going to be the hardest thing for you to deal with on the daily. 

I’m not them. I just need to decide how I want to be and just be that way. 

You sighed. It sounded so simple in your head. Actually doing it was going to be an entirely different matter. You glanced at your closed door, doing your best to keep the depression at bay. You needed something to do physically. Sitting with your swirling thoughts wasn’t helping. Distracting your body with some chore would help your thoughts slow down, and you knew it.

An idea came to you. Dean had cooked, so there would be some cleaning you could take care of. After a few deep breaths, you forced your body to move off the bed, out of your room, and toward the kitchen. 

I can do this.

After another deep breath, you went into the kitchen, glancing around before you began cleaning up. The three of them were sitting at the table. You figured Cas had told them you were approaching since it had gotten quiet.

You put away the things in the fridge as you got the dishes soaking. You kept your focus on the task you’d given yourself while your thoughts finally slowed down.

I know what I did. The way the personalities deliberately started arguments, said cruel and hurtful things, did things to intentionally hurt the three of them, and how they’d sneaked off to scratch an itch instead of being with Dean.

It would be beneficial to hold onto the hunting skills, the fighting skills, and even the torture skills. I could use that if I wanted to keep hunting or at least use it to keep myself safe if something got a hold of me.

You thought back to the past, to the moments when Dean was smiling or laughing. This brought a small smile to your face as you wiped down the counter and island.

I want to see him smile more and hear more of his laughter. I want to keep those parts that brought that out in him. I know I want to be kind, but I also like being silly. Dean acts like a kid sometimes, so maybe it’s okay to keep that part too.

You realized that little things that had been said to you when you were a child were so hard to comprehend that you needed personalities to be able to feel things you thought you weren’t allowed. One of those, feeling four different ways about the same thing. 

Another was that you were supposed to act your age, but adults were boring most of the time, or at least that was how you pictured them. You glanced over at the table where the three of them sat, then grabbed the coffee pot with a soft smile, heading over to them.

“Want a refill?” you asked, a little playfully, acting like a server at a diner.

Dean and Sam were more surprised than Cas, who was smiling from ear to ear. He may have been an angel, but he was also your friend.

“Sure, Sweetheart,” Dean finally answered, smirking a little, and you saw the hope in his eyes this time.

Sam didn’t answer you, but he did move his cup a little so you could fill it, as had Cas. You refilled their cups, finding a sense of happiness and joy in that moment before returning the carafe to its resting place.

I know it all won’t be this easy. Sam’s really upset and mad at me, or rather, them.

You went back to finish your task of dishes.

I know how I want to be and know I’m allowed to have a dark side. I just have to come to terms with that part of me, accept it. I don’t have to be that, only let it out when the situation calls for it. 

Then, questions began drifting into your mind.

Do I still enjoy coloring? What about painting? Do I even like hunting? Are the emotions I feel towards Dean even mine? Is it okay to keep that, the love they had for him? Is it okay to love him? What’s my favorite color? What do I like wearing?

They didn’t bombard you, but at the moment, you didn’t have answers to any of them. Dean had already said he wasn’t going anywhere, which was reassuring. 

As you put the last of the dishes away, you headed out to the library. Standing in the archway, you sighed. You’d been avoiding your and Dean’s shared room, but you knew you needed to go there, and to your old ‘original’ room. 

I can do this.

That was becoming your mantra. With a deep breath, you went down the hallway to the bedrooms, stopping outside Dean’s. The door was closed. You had no idea how long you’d been standing there when Dean stopped five feet from you.

“There’s no rush, Sweetheart. You also don’t have to do this alone,” Dean said softly, and that cautiousness was back in his tone.

You sighed sadly and looked at the floor, pulling your gaze from the door. “I know. I just can’t sit and do nothing. It just makes it worse when I do that.” 

Dean bit his lip nervously, “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

It took everything in you to look over at him and then fight back tears when you saw his caution. He had his guard up. 

I’ve hurt him so much. No. They hurt him. I need to help him see I’m not them, and I’ll never be them.

A small smile came to your lips, even with the pain in your eyes, “It’d be nice if I didn’t have to do this alone.” It was hard to say, and it came out quiet.

He watched you momentarily, looking for any sign that another personality might be lingering, as there was always a sign, no matter how subtle. When he saw none, he gingerly stepped closer to you.

“When you’re ready, I’m here,” he told you, and again, you heard the nervousness in his tone.

You felt that urge to reach out and hold his hand. It wasn’t a new urge. You’d had it when you had DID, only the other personalities never let you have the physical closeness with Dean that you’d always wanted. Or rather, that they had wanted, the nice ones.

I can do this. I want this.

With that thought and a shaky breath, you reached out slowly and laced your fingers with Dean’s, holding his hand. Your eyes went from your hands to his eyes, and there was that glimmer of hope before he hid it behind his hunter's mask.

It was a nice feeling, his hand in yours, and it made you smile a little as you turned your attention back to the door in front of you. Your mantra repeating itself in your mind. Then, you reached out and turned the doorknob, your hand shaking as you slowly pushed it open.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what the inside would look like. This had been the room you had shared with Dean when you had DID, and you hadn’t been in it since that had gone away. You hadn’t wanted to. 

You felt the tears burning at the corner of your eyes as you looked around, still unable to move from where you stood. Your personalities, the cruel ones, never let Dean decorate how he’d wanted to. When your kinder personalities had come out and tried to let him, the mean ones took over again, causing a fight before throwing a nicer one out to deal with the backlash.

You swallowed hard as you slowly stepped inside the room, finding it hard to breathe. Dean stayed by your side, but he was still cautious. The bed covers looked like they hadn’t been moved or touched in days, and you wondered how much he’d slept over the last month while you’d been running.

Dean squeezed your hand gently, relaxing you a little, just knowing he was there. You gave him a small smile before you let go of his hand and walked further into the room. “Do we have any boxes here?” you asked him quietly, letting your eyes move over the room again. Things needed to change.

“Yeah. I’ll go grab some,” he answered, unsure what you were up to.

“Can you also get the tools for the fixtures to hang stuff?” you asked, looking over at him as he stood in the doorway.

He looked at you, puzzled, then nodded before leaving you alone. You went along the walls and began removing most of the items that your crueler personalities had hung so Dean didn’t have space for the things he’d wanted to hang. 

Only a few weapons had belonged to your personalities that you liked and wanted to leave up, but you moved them around so they were now together. It would give Dean space to hang some of his. Then, you took down all but one of the posters that were ‘yours’. It was one of a moose with a squirrel sitting on its antlers. There were a couple of pictures that your little had colored and given to Dean. Seeing them brought a small, happy smile to your lips.

Dean returned, stopping dead in his tracks when he looked around at what you were doing. At the moment, you were taking things off the shelf that had belonged to your personalities. They were things he had initially argued about. 

There were several neat stacks or piles of things sitting on the bed now, and he still hadn’t moved, nor had you noticed him just yet. He was in a slight state of shock as he watched you. He almost broke down when you opened the drawer of the desk, pulled out the framed picture of him, his mom, and his brother, and placed it carefully on his nightstand.

Most of your memories were locked away at the moment, but you had enough to remember what he’d wanted to put out around the room. As you found those items, you placed them where he’d wanted them. He still couldn’t speak or move, boxes in hand, the tools inside the top one.

You squeaked with a start when you saw him standing in the doorway. “How long have you been just standing there? “ you asked, holding your chest and trying to calm your heart.

The noise you made, made him chuckle, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Got your boxes.” 

Dean set them on the open spot on the bed, then turned to you. He wanted to say something, but words were escaping him at the moment. When you went over and wrapped him up in a hug, he wanted to cry. He didn’t, though. He just held you close to him, daring to hope.

“I hope it’s okay that I, uh…” you began, then trailed off, finding it hard to formulate your thoughts into words.

“As long as you aren’t moving out, it’s fine,” he replied, keeping most of his emotions in check for now. It was hard, though. This was something he’d always dreamed of, you, whole.

You looked up at him but didn’t pull away, tilting your head slightly, “Why would you think I was moving out?”

That caution and worry returned to Dean’s eyes for a moment, and he stepped away from you, like a scared animal waiting for its master to snap again, “You took most of your things down.”

You sighed as your arms fell to your sides and your gaze to the floor. Slowly, you packed away the items you’d removed from around his room, attempting to figure out how to word the things that began swirling through your mind.

“I’m not like them. If this really is our room, I’d like to see your things around the room more. If… if you want to,” you finally managed, although quietly. It was hard to keep the sadness you felt out of your words.

Without warning, Dean wrapped you tightly in his arms. You’d done so well keeping the tears at bay, but now, there was no stopping them as you held him just as close. He held you as you sobbed into his chest, and a few tears slid silently down his cheek.

She’s in there, still, Dean thought to himself.

Once you got the tears to stop, he slowly pulled back but didn’t let go of you completely. There was one way he’d know for sure, but he wouldn’t push things, no matter how badly he wanted to kiss you. 

“Help me put all this in boxes?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

He gave you a soft, half smile, “Sure.”

You returned the smile before the two of you packed up what you had set on the bed. Dean then cautiously began hanging his things around the room while you went through the clothes your personalities had put in his dresser and closet. 

There were definitely things there that you had no interest in ever wearing again, so those got packed in a box. Dean approached you as you looked through some of the more “revealing” outfits. The ones that had bad memories attached to them went into the box. Dean stopped you when you grabbed the purple teddy.

“I’d like you to keep that one, please,” he asked you quietly, and you looked at him, puzzled.

That memory, the one he had, wasn’t coming to the forefront of your mind, “Why?”

A slight blush began at the tips of his ears before it found its way to his cheeks, “Just… please keep that one.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion but left it hanging in the closet. Another idea played through your mind, “Is there anything else you’d like me to keep?” 

It was his turn to look at you with confusion. That was something you would have never asked when you had DID. Hell, you never let anyone make those kinds of decisions. Dean cautiously looked into the closet. You’d already removed half of what had belonged to you. He pulled a handful of items out and looked at you with them in hand, still cautious of your reaction.

You smiled and gently took the clothes from him, putting them in the box, “Anything out of the dresser?”

Don’t hope too hard, he thought, taking a deep breath and moving to the dresser. As he went through the drawers, he noticed what you’d already taken out and what you’d left. There were only a couple of things he pulled out of there. That’s when he noticed you’d taken something else out, and he couldn’t locate it.

Dean went over to the box where you’d put all the clothes, carefully going through it until he found what he was looking for. It was an old shirt. To you, at least at the moment, there were no memories attached to it, but Dean pulled it out and placed it back in the dresser.

“You’ll want that, when the memories come back,” he said softly as he turned to look at you.

“Thanks. It’s hard to know what to keep and what not to when I don’t remember everything,” you replied with a loving smile.

“Mind if I look at what else you packed away?” he asked cautiously, but there was still that tiny smile on his lips.

“I don’t mind. It might even be helpful,” you answered.

He took a deep breath and went through the boxes. He only pulled out a couple of things and placed them around the room. You weren’t sure why those things were important to keep, but you were thankful that he did.

“I’ll take these to storage,” Dean said, grabbing a box off the bed.

“I can help. You don’t need to clean up my mess,” you insisted gently. You would have done it yourself, but having him there was helping you stay mostly calm, even if you were still torn. 

While the two of you moved the boxes, your thoughts felt like they would drown you again.

I’m the one that hurt you, and here you are, helping me. Why does this feel so wrong? I’m the abuser. I abused you. You shook your head slightly, trying to push those thoughts away. No. I wasn’t the abuser, they were. I’m trying to pick up the pieces of what was my life. I’ll never hurt him, or anyone like they did. I’m not a monster. I’m choosing to be better.

Dean also helped you with your old room. The one you’d used when your personalities wanted their own space. This was where you had found more personal items, like your little’s coloring and painting supplies. Those made you smile a little, and you decided to keep them. 

You also decided to keep your old room, now that the things you didn’t want there were out of it. It was a place you could use to perhaps get your thoughts to slow down or possibly write them out. 

The part you were torn on was when it came to Dean. 

Am I even the one he loves, or does he love them? Could he love me like he loved them? Would he even want me since I’m not the one he’s been with? 

Again, you shook your head, trying to make the thoughts disappear. “You okay, Sweetheart?” Dean asked, concerned.

“Just… too many questions in my head,” you answered quietly, putting one last item in the box.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, this time, cautiously.

“I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure I want the answers,” you replied quietly, keeping most of the sadness out of your tone.

You could tell he wanted to hold you again, but he was stopping himself, and that hurt. It was an internal battle that raged in your heart. You completely understood why he was being the way he was. You looked the same. It wasn’t like your appearance had changed when the DID was gone.

“I’m gonna go put these with the other boxes,” he told you, sighing as he grabbed a box.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking at the floor again.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8 - Picking Up the Pieces Pt. 2

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[skittles-the-whumpee]

Be Careful What You Wish For – Chapter 1

TW: pet whump, college whump, demon whumper, human whumpee.

Cris ran his fingers through his brown, wavy hair, sighing as he stared up at his dorm room ceiling from his desk chair. It had been several hours since he had started his homework, it didn't help that he was behind...again. Everyone else in the dorm was asleep, the thought of which made him yawn and rub his eyes. He glanced at the clock on his desk. “Fuck...I'm not going to get any sleep at this rate...” He said under his breath, sitting up to stretch. “I should go get some caffeine...it's the only way I'll get anything done tonight.” He stood and grabbed his hoodie, putting it on and walking towards the door.

It had been his first semester of college and he was already falling behind in his studies. This wasn't anything new, all throughout high school, he barely passed his classes as if he wasn't able to keep up with everyone else. He knew he wasn't bright and that his future looked very grim if he couldn't get a degree and a decent job, knowing it was better than living on the streets begging for spare change.

He walked out of the building and started shuffling tiredly in the general direction of the gas station, which had a better selection of energy drinks than the vending machine in the dorm lobby. A cold breeze prompted him to put his hands in his hoodie pocket as he walked. When he arrived at the gas station, he nodded to the attendant. “Late night again?” The attendant asked from behind the counter with a smile. “Yep...still trying to get caught up.” Cris replied as he walked to the back of the store where the refrigerated drinks were, opening a door and grabbing his favorite energy drink..it was the only one he could stand the taste of. Most of them made him gag, but not this one. When he approached the counter, he already had the exact amount ready in his hand and he placed it on the counter and waited for the attendant's approval before walking out and opening the can, taking a very satisfied sip before heading back towards the dorm.

Tonight he decided to take a brief detour through the playground that was meant for visitors' kids, sitting down on a swing to enjoy his drink. He missed the easier days of childhood, not having any responsibilities, no college homework, no taxes.. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, thinking to himself. “I wish I could just have a simple life again...”

“That can be arranged.” A smooth voice came from behind him, making him jump out of the swing and spill a bit of his energy drink. “What the-” Cris exclaimed as he jumped up and turned around to see who had snuck up behind him. There, standing right behind where he had been sitting, was a tall man dressed in an all black suit. He was handsome with black hair and chiseled features, seeming to be physically fit in that tailored suit of his...but his eyes were what drew the college student's attention...they had a dim yellow glow...why were they glowing? “Wh-Who are you?” Cris asked as he took a cautionary step back.

“I am simply someone who heard your wish.” The mysterious man said softly as he approached, walking through the swing as if it didn't exist. “You did wish to have a simpler life, did you not?”

He asked Cris, who had begun to tremble as he realized that this man had heard his thoughts, never mind the sight of him phasing through solid matter. “Y-Yes...” He replied hesitantly, eyeing the man's movements as if he were about to be attacked. The man then sat in the swing that Cris had just been sitting in, speaking eerily soft. “I can grant your wish, mortal. I can give you a new life away from here...a simple life.” This made Cris curious and his trembling stopped as soon as he realized this man wasn't an immediate threat. He longed for a simple life but had been forced by his parents to go to college, being thrust out of the comfort of his childhood home and out into the harsh world.

“O-Ok...say I believed you...what's the catch?” Cris asked, not believing that this is even happening. Was his drink spiked? No...it couldn't have been...it was in a sealed can. The man's eyes glowed more with intrigue, seeing that he has caught the boy's interest. “All you must do...is obey.” The hair on Cris's arms stood on end as he realized what that meant, he had begun his journey into kink a few years prior which clued him in. Surprisingly, he remained calm, though a bit stunned. “Obey...you're asking me to become your...your slave...” The man finally showed emotion as he grinned, revealing his pristine teeth. He nodded once, watching Cris fight with his thoughts, letting him do so without intruding. “More of a pet. You will be collared, fed, housed, trained, and cared for. All I require in return is your obedience.” The boy couldn't believe his ears.

Cris fell to his knees, not even caring that his energy drink lay sideways, pouring its contents into the sand used to soften the playground. He had dreamed of this happening...he just couldn't believe that the opportunity was here, a simple life...close enough to touch. He took a few breaths before bowing his head and closing his eyes.

“May I make one request before I make my decision?” He asked quietly, his heart pounding in his chest. The man looked down his nose at him. “You may.” He replied with a mildly annoyed sigh. Cris swallowed before speaking. “M-May I know the name of my owner, sir?” The man's grin grew once more and his voice seemed warmer than before. “Yes. I am Daelan. One of the nine Demon Lords of Hell.” His voice was devoid of any emotion as he said his name and title, just cold and calculating. A Demon Lord. That made all the pieces come together in Cris's head as he made up his mind. Belonging to a demon had always sounded dreamy to him and the idea of belonging to a Demon Lord made him almost swoon.

He placed his hands on his lap as he took a deep breath, letting out a soft sigh, at peace with his decision. No more complicated life, no more trying to keep up in class, no more disappointing his parents...only following orders, simple. Keeping his head bowed, he finally gave his answer. “I surrender myself to you, if you would have me.”

Daelan stood and walked the short distance to his prey, looking down his nose at him again with his sinister grin reaching from ear to ear as he lifted the boy's chin to make him look up at him. “Then I claim you, pet. Serve me well...” He said with a hint of victory in his voice before leaning down to look his new toy in the eye. “...for I am now your Master for all eternity.”

Cris smiled tenderly up at his Master, admiring his benevolence and his majesty, unaware of the torment that was soon to threaten to swallow him whole.

[izayoizuki]

Memories Follow You Around: A 4+1 Fic

Shellblossom (@wildbornsiren) requested Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift with Rooster for my Sweet September Soiree (I am well aware we are now at the tail end of November <3), and her recent piece was so amazing it CPRed me into finishing this. I had replied to the ask and everything, but it disappeared?????????? so now I'm posting it like this. I hope you don't mind Shellblossom. I love you so much <3

Pairing: Rooster x wife!reader (no specified race/physical descriptors for Reader)

Warnings: Homesickness, allusions to: dying, smut, mentions of being shot down

Written on phone so no wordcount <3

1.

Rooster was being shot down. He'd been shot down before; it's not that he was a bad pilot per se, but even if he beat the statistics, it was bound to happen now and again. But this time was different. This was his first time being shot down as a married man. People said your whole life flashes before your eyes, and this may well be true, but for him it was one singular memory of you that's superimposed over a lifetime's worth of memories. You in your wedding dress, on the beach, both of you catching fire in the setting sun as he slips the ring over your finger. The way you looked at him, eyes full of joy and promise. He doesn't know what he looked like, but he's willing to bet that it's quite idiotic. And he knows as he recalls your face that he needs to get back to you, no matter what. It was his wedding vow to you, and he wrote it with the intention of keeping it or dying trying. Mav's voice comes over the comms: "Eject! Eject! EJECT!", each syllable more forceful than the last, and he flings himself into the sky.

2.

Rooster's in his bunk, staring, squinting, at where he knows your picture is stuck to the bedframe, even though the room is pitch dark and his vision is the same whether he keeps his eyes open or closed. The room is sweltering, the humidity an unwelcome roommate, just like the memories of every mission that has gone bad and come to torment him. He breathes in, deep, deep, even soupy air is air after all, and he lets it out, huffing and puffing his cheeks, and as he does, like muscle memory, it comes back to him, the way he'd blow, cheeks puffed theatrically, into your ear, as he came in behind you while you cooked. The way you stuck your tongue out to him after eating a popsicle, so that your berry tongue and lips matched the way the sun brought up the blood in your cheeks. You attempting to do a cartwheel on the beach in your wedding dress, late late late, after everyone else had gone home. You hadn't succeeded, but you'd been so cute he'd followed suit, and fallen as well, because he didn't want you to feel bad that he'd managed one. The way you'd puffed your cheeks and stuck out your tongue to him then too, and the bonfire had burnished you gold and copper and bronze, and his heart had never been as sure about making the right decision.

3.

He was standing in a bar, but he couldn't bring himself to be the life of the party. He could now see the appeal in the way Bob did things, quiet, distanced, observing yet still part of the group. His friends were all playing pool, and they were laughing, drinking, but he could see it in their movements too, because he knew where to look. They were tired, drawn. Their movements were just a hint more stiff, their faces pinched just a hint more tight, their laughter just a hint more forced. They all wanted to go home, to fall into someone's arms, to go to sleep, to rest, to recover, to recuperate, to see joy once again so that they knew that the sun did not rise every morning just for them to do something terrible once again. He felt a hand on his shoulder, heavy, comforting, and he knew who it was without looking up.

Mav quirked an eyebrow at him in question, and it came out, raw. "I miss my wife." He said, and it shocked him how vulnerable he sounded, how earnest, how easily it had tumbled out of him, and he wanted to snatch the words and stuff them back into his heart, as if he'd accidentally popped open his underwear bag at the TSA and now was frantically shoving everything back in. But Mav just gave his shoulder a tight squeeze and his temple a soft kiss.

4.

He remembered you in the shower. Of short summer nights and longer winter ones, of being tangled up in bedsheets and need and desperation and love, of being so intertwined that neither one of you knew where one ended and the other began. He could swear he ached with the need to touch you. He wanted to sew himself to you, feel your weight on him, anchor him; he wanted to climb into your skin somehow. He wanted to make it so every inch of him touched every inch of yours. He wanted you to understand him in that way that was uniquely yours. He let tears run down his face in the privacy of that shower. Tears of sheer aching, pining, yearning.

Once he stepped out, he knew what he'd do, and his body allowed him the barest of smiles as a reprieve.

5.

You would never get used to him. He would always be new, exciting, intimidating, wondrous, even though you knew his soul like he knew yours. You couldn't help it. He was so tall, and handsome as hell; he'd be bad and he'd do it so well. He got off the plane and walked to you like a tank, blinders on, unseeing of everything but you, and your heart kept stuttering to a stop as you waited for him to walk up. In the back of your mind you dimly wondered how you'd survive being reunited when the mere sight of him disembarking was killing you, but soon you didn't have to wonder any longer as he picked you up in his arms and poured his love onto you.

"You brought the Bronco?" He whisper-asked in your ear, and you gave thanks for whatever had guided you to taking your husband's car instead of yours. Your nod was a tiny movement but Rooster's grin against your ear was anything but.

"Let's get out of this town, out from the city, away from the crowd." You nodded immediately once again; you knew that not even heaven could still you from following this man wherever he went.

He took the keys from your pocket, sliding you in on the bench seat so you were snug next to him as he drove with one hand, the other slung over your shoulders, one hand laced with yours. He'd pull you in to kiss the top of your head, while you kissed any part of him you could reach while still keeping your head buried in the crook of his neck.

You only made two stops; one for gas and the other at a Target in the middle of nowhere. All he'd said was "Better stock up, sweetheart." But the way he'd said it made you shop like you'd never done before. You stocked up on everything from groceries, enough to keep you and your leviathan of a husband for at least a week, to clothes, buying him double the amount of t-shirts and henleys and hoodies and boxers and socks because you knew you'd be taking half of them anyway, getting him those flannel pyjamas he was partial to, and allowing yourself leggings and nothing else because you doubted that whatever activity Bradley had in mind involved very many clothes. There was a Starbucks adjoined to the Target that had served as brunch, and you'd been off again.

He drove you both up to an A-Frame in what you assumed were the Rockies. It was like a fairytale house in a fairytale place, and to complete the picture, your husband picked you up and carried you into the house like you were a fairytale princess, just like a fairytale prince. His face was soft, tender, full of love and adoration, and you knew without a shadow of doubt that your face mirrored his.

And so you stood inside the threshold, and showed your husband every ounce of love you had for him, because he was even better than your wildest dreams.

[supervengerslock]

Savior of the Future- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Wish

Stephen Strange x Stark!Reader

A/N: Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

It was over. you stood over Tony’s crumpled form. You had won, but at what cost?

Pepper held him as the arc reactor went out, and everyone began to kneel. A tear slipped down your cheek as you held your brother’s left hand—the one that held the gauntlet—as the light left his eyes.

I wish I could save him. I wish this could have never happened..

A desperate plea to whatever divine entity would listen, to save the brother who raised you, who was the only family you had left.

Your gaze traveled to meet Stephen’s, his blue eyes swimming with tears and the guilt of what he knew would happen, of what he couldn’t tell you so that he could save you.

The ground seemed to sway under your feet. You could see Stephen lurch forward to catch you, but something made you grip tighter onto your brother’s hand—onto the gauntlet.

And then your whole world went black.

You shot up in bed, breathing heavily. You were in your bedroom in the penthouse.It was dark.

You scanned the room for a moment before calling out for the AI.

“FRIDAY, what’s going on?”

“You appear to have had a bad dream. Shall I wake up Boss?”

“No, let him sleep,” she says. “What day is it?”

“It is February 3rd, 2016, 3:41 am.”

You have done it. Somehow, the stones had sent you back in time. Your brother was alive. But there was something about that date that unnerved you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“FRIDAY, do you have any info on the infinity stones?”

The AI pulls up files on the tesseract and the mind stone—which was currently still in Vision’s forehead. There was nothing on the other stones.

Your door creaked opened and Tony stood in the doorway.

“Muffin, is it really you?” he asks, a bit disoriented.

“Bubba? Do you remember?”

He nods, walking to the side of your bed and pulling you into a tight hug. Your brother—the man who raised you— was alive.

“What do you remember?” you ask, breaking from the hug as tears threatened to spill from your cheeks.

“I remember the wielding stones, and then.. Lights out.”

“You died. You were dead,” you tell him. “And now we’re back here?”

“How did we get back here?” he asks. “Did the stones..”

“It was me,” you answer. “I was holding your hand, the one that held the gauntlet, and I made a wish. I guess the stones answered it.”

“Miss Stark, you have a call from an unknown number,” FRIDAY interrupts.

“Stephen..” you mutter. “Answer it, FRI.”

“Y/N, it’s Wong.”

“Wong? You remember?” you ask.

“Yes. Stephen does as well, but.. Something happened when we appeared back here. You need to get to Metro-General Hospital as soon as possible.”

You and Tony exchanged worried looks before scrambling out of bed. If something happened to Stephen, you’d never forgive yourself for your final thoughts about him in the battle, the anger and hurt. He was your world.

-

You ran into the hospital room about twenty minutes later, Tony on your heels. Stephen was in bad shape, his arms were both raised above his head, held up in casts with at least eleven pins in his hands. The accident. This was the day of the accident. This was why that date sounded familiar.

Wong was nowhere to be seen, but Stephen looked up as you approached his bed.

“Stephy?”

“Sweetheart,” he choked out hoarsely. “You remember?”

You nod, taking the seat by his bed. “Why did the stones send us back to this time?” you ask.

“Why couldn’t they have sent us to a time when you were healed?”

“Wong and I have a theory about that. We think that the Ancient One might be able to help us.”

“How long did it take you to get to Kamar-taj?” you ask Stephen.

“A month or so. Right after I started my physical therapy.”

“Well, you’re coming to the compound until then, and I won’t take no for an answer, Stephen,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

“It’s best to listen to her, Doc,” Tony says. “She’ll get you to rest one way or the other.”

You turn to glare at him and Tony backs towards the door.

“I’ll give you lovebirds some space..” He walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You turn your attention to Stephen, who admittedly looked awful.

“Did you wake up here?” you ask. He nods.

“At least I didn’t wake up in that damn car..”

“I love you,” you tell him, reaching out to brush a couple of dark strands out of his face. “We’re gonna win this time, baby.”

Stephen’s gaze traveled to the doorway, and you looked up as Christine Palmer walked slowly into the room.

“I came to check on you,” she says. She looks between you and Stephen, and he remains silent as you glare at his ex.

“Do I know you?” she asks, turning her attention to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you tell her. “Stephen’s girlfriend.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked over to Stephen again, who didn't meet her gaze.

Christine wordlessly left the room and you turned back to Stephen.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

He sighs. “I asked her to go to that conference with me yesterday.”

“So, now she thinks you were trying to cheat on me?” you reply with a chuckle. “My boyfriend, the player.”

“What are we going to do?” Stephen asks. “How are we going to stop him?”

“I have a few ideas,” you reply. “But right now, you need to rest. Though your mind is years ahead, your body just went through a car accident.”

After a bunch of pain meds from the nurses and some threatening on your end, Stephen finally went to sleep. You collapsed in the reclining chair in the corner, the beeping from the machines lulling you to sleep.

“Stone Seeker.” A booming voice called through the darkness.

You opened your eyes. You were in a void, but a figure appeared before you. A man—a being with a large bald head and blue robes floated in front of you.

“Who are you?” you ask.

“I am Uatu, the watcher. I am here to warn you.”

“I know, Thanos is already looking for the stones,” you reply.

“Thanos is a problem,” he says. “But other threats loom on the horizon. You have already set us on a different path.”

“How so?”

“I sense it in Doctor Strange’s mind. He plans not to give up the time stone, but to die for you if he has to.”

“He won’t have to,” you state. “We know where the stones are. We just need to get in contact with a few people.”

“Be warned, Stone Seeker. An unsavory character has returned to the past as well. One who seeks consequences for tampering with the space-time continuum. He will strike when you least expect it.”

Thanos?

“We will be ready.”

[walkswithmyfather]

“The Prophetic Call to Samuel”: “Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord before Eli. And word from the Lord was rare in those days, visions were infrequent. It happened at that time as Eli was lying down in his place (now his eyesight had begun to grow dim and he could not see well), and the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord where the ark of God was, that the Lord called Samuel; and he said, “Here I am.” Then he ran to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, lie down again.” So he went and lay down.

The Lord called yet again, “Samuel!” So Samuel arose and went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he answered, “I did not call, my son, lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, nor had the word of the Lord yet been revealed to him. So the Lord called Samuel again for the third time. And he arose and went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.”

Then Eli discerned that the Lord was calling the boy. And Eli said to Samuel, “Go lie down, and it shall be if He calls you, that you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. Then the Lord came and stood and called as at other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for Your servant is listening.”

The Lord said to Samuel, “Behold, I am about to do a thing in Israel at which both ears of everyone who hears it will tingle. In that day I will carry out against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knew, because his sons brought a curse on themselves and he did not rebuke them. Therefore I have sworn to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be atoned for by sacrifice or offering forever.”

So Samuel lay down until morning. Then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. But Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. Then Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “What is the word that He spoke to you? Please do not hide it from me. May God do so to you, and more also, if you hide anything from me of all the words that He spoke to you.” So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. And he said, “It is the Lord; let Him do what seems good to Him.”

Thus Samuel grew and the Lord was with him and let none of his words fail. All Israel from Dan even to Beersheba knew that Samuel was confirmed as a prophet of the Lord. And the Lord appeared again at Shiloh, because the Lord revealed Himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord.” —1 Samuel 3:1‭-‬21 (NASB1995)

“When God Wants Our Attention” By In Touch Ministries:

“When you feel restless, spend extra time with God in prayer; He may be leading you to something new.”

“Have you ever felt restless, as if something’s not quite right? At times God will use that feeling to get our attention. Take Samuel, for example. He literally couldn’t rest because a voice kept calling his name in the dark, and he assumed it was Eli the priest calling out. Finally, after the third interruption, Eli realized the boy was hearing God’s voice.

For Samuel, the sense of restlessness was physical, but it can also manifest as a mental or emotional feeling. This can be something God uses to guide us toward new insights, as He did in revealing Samuel would become a prophet. At first, this information made Samuel anxious—he was afraid to tell Eli about God’s judgment and didn’t sleep that night. He might even have wished he’d ignored that feeling of uneasiness. Ultimately, though, the distress proved worthwhile: Scripture tells us that “Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him, and He let none of his words fail” (1 Sam. 3:19).

No matter how or why God lets us feel unsettled, His purpose is always good. So we can trust the Lord and safely investigate our feelings of restlessness without fear. Seek to listen and obey. Then even if you, like Samuel, aren’t sure where the uneasiness is coming from, God won’t let you miss out. He is in control and His plans cannot be thwarted.”

[lostonehero]

More time travel

Just to preface this I hate security breech but I love the idea Micheal can't fucking rest and ends up as glamrock Freddy

Also Gregory is a spilt from Evan the crying child spirit robo kid

Anyhow let's go

Henry sighs as he parks in the diners parking lot. They had to shut down for the weekend, Henry couldn't run this place by himself, and William's youngest had a meltdown. He hoped it was just a meltdown. He didn't think he could get those screams out of his head. He sighs as he spots his partner heavy eye bags and a sleep deprived look with a warm coffee in his hands. "Is Evan ok?"

William frowns. "He stopped screaming, and he responds to Evan again. He isn't normal yet, but Clara is convinced it's Micheal's fault. She locked him in his room and hadn't been able to see him all weekend. He's 11 Henry, and he can't cause that kind of damage. Clara won't let me take him to the hospital."

Henry matches his partner frown. "We have to figure out what caused it."

"I'm going to tear this place to the nails and rebuild it so nothing ever happens again." William barely bites back a yawn.

Henry nods as he unlocks the door he only manages to take a few steps in before he can hear William shout.

"MICHEAL DAVID AFTON DID YOU SPEND THE WEEKEND HERE?" William shouts, and it barely stirs his son sleeping at the table. A notepad he got from the security office was next to him.

Henry picks up the notebook and starts to read through it. His eyes get wider as he keeps going. "William...." Henry grabs the taller man before he could shake Micheal awake. "William, look at this. Micheals is the same age as my girl."

William rubbed his temples. "Henry, I know that. Why are you bringing it up? Clara lied to me. Micheal never came home. She locked his room, and I believed her." He can't even spiral as Henry shoves the note pad at him.

"William read it now." Henry's tone doesn't leave room for argument. "I have to check...." He sinks into a bench. "Your son can't write like that, right?"

William can feel the panic and shame drain from him. Even his exhaustion was replaced with confusion as he flipped through the notepad detail sketches of designs he couldn't even fathom were on the pages, then drawings of human anatomy and changes. Then the writing the handwriting was too neat to be from a child, and too detailed as well. He sat next to Henry as both men read the notepad detail notes upon detail notes spread across the pages.

There was a list on the front.

1. You're alive. You have to eat, and (recharge was crossed out replaced with sleep)

2. Are you 11? 10? Doesn't matter you are a child.

3. Cleaned the diner. Didn't have to need something to pass the time.

4. Found fathers sewing kid fixed a unform for my body. (Body is then crossed out and replaced with you're alive. Micheal refers to yourself as such)

4. Eyes glow and change color based on mood did not have that when I was alive or a corpse.

5. Remember to eat and drink. You have bodily functions again.

6. (Medical scan is crossed out) Not a machine figure out what is different than your normal human you had 40? No 60 years ago before you were a walking corpse.

7. I fucking forgot about Gregory fuck (the name is bold and underlined)

8. Wait for father to return, I am a child, and it would be suspicious if I just left here by myself.

9. Scratch that recharge then leave when the sun comes up its the fucking 80s stranger danger isn't a thing yet.

10. Figure out how I got here, and again, check out my body. I haven't done that yet.

11. Am I too young to have coffee yet, I know physically, yes, but is that different if you have an adult mind?

(The rest is just general diary entries and extremely detailed notes of the repairs and fixes he has done around the diner as if he already knows how everything works. Along with detailed drawings and anatomy sketches of his new features that humans shouldn't have.)

William and Henry share a look at each other. Neither man knows how to move forward, and Micheal is still dead asleep.

Henry spoke up first. "I'm going to check the animotronics."

"I-i'll check the kitchen and security office." William stutters each man had to confirm what was written.

......

What both men found was that the building was spotless, and every single mechanical issue they had was fixed. Micheal even fixed the camera in the kitchen. They returned to where Micheal was still asleep as William gently shook him awake.

"Mmmh, five more minutes, need to charge..." Micheal mumbles and shakes slightly harder, and he screws his eyes shut. He huffed and opened his eyes they were glowing a bright blue. He rubs his eyes and sits up, cracking his back. It doesn't do much considering he is a child.

"Micheal...?" William cautiously spoke, not really ready for how Micheal was going to act.

Micheal yawned, looking over to his father. "Good morning, I assume you've read my diary." Henry stops him from grabbing William's coffee. His attention turns to his uncle. He wasn't exactly used to seeing him young and full of life. Charlie's death ruined the man, and he devolved into his work building a massive franchise at the cost of his sanity. The fake pizzeria was the last time he saw the man withered by age and depression. He didn't look any better, but still. Here was his uncle before the tragedy before the ruin. He flicked his eyes to his father. He wasn't his mother's puppet. He wasn't a drunk that was a slave to her control. He wasn't a corpse in that springlock failure. He was still him."

Both men stepped back as Micheal pushed himself out of the bench. He stood up and scratched his stomach. William noticed his nails looked pained and that his teeth were much sharper than they should have been, and white like ivory. "Micheal?"

Micheal looks up at his father and sighs. "Hello again father, it's been a while." He frowns at his voice. "I forgot how high pitched my voice before puberty. Doesn't matter." He wipes his mouth of the drool from his sleep. "I'm not used to having bodily functions again."

Henry raises his brow and gives a look to William, who merely shrugs. The notebook only referred to a corpse body, then that one of a machine. "Micheal, what happened?"

Micheal pauses. "I was running away from a woman named Vanessa protecting a child, his name is Gregory and we fell.... I woke up here approximately 56 hours ago. Everyone had left, which was odd because I don't recall that ever happening except.... that isn't important, but I woke up alone and confused. I'm not used to being small." He's not used to having strong emotions again either.

William reaches out and pulls Micheal into a hug, and he can feel Micheal start to cry he was silent, which threw up major red flags. "Hey, it's ok, how about we get breakfast and we can talk. How old are you?"

Micheal sniffs, clinging to his father. "I don't know, but it was 2036."

Henry's eyes widen. "I'll start my car, and we can head to the local diner since you did a very good job fixing up everything." He smiles as Micheal nods.

Neither adult knew how to handle this situation. William was at a loss for how he even forgot his son at their diner, and Henry could see the sheer amount of horrors Micheal ad faced with his thousand yard stare.

......

Micheal kicks his feet, staring at the menu. He looks confused and slightly overwhelmed. He grabs his father's arm when the waitress comes by.

William raises his brow but sighs. "I'll have the spinach omelet, and my son will have the chocolate chip pancakes."

Henry smiles. "Oh, I'll have the steak and eggs."

The waitress smiles. "Pretty late seeing you two here. Good morning at the diner?"

William nods. "Just a bit of maintenance, and everything is running smoothly."

"That's great to hear my little angel loves the place." She smiles and heads to the kitchen.

Micheal frowns. "I apologize. I haven't had to really eat in a long time. I think I've forgotten what I like."

William can feel his heart break. "It's alright. We can always figure it out."

Henry nods. "Micheal, is it ok to ask why you seem so nervous?"

Micheal shrugs. "I haven't uh been around a lot of adults in a long time, or people for that matter, I think I was 21 or 22 when I got scooped and became a living corpse couldn't really stay in touch with anyone after that. I was close to Jeremy for a while, but we got into a massive fight right before I got scooped, and I ran away like a coward." He messes with his hands. "Probably deserve it, though, I ended up killing Evan when I was 14 golden Freddy jaw can crush a skull." He bites his lip. "Lozzie died before that baby malfunction and stuffed her into her chest cavity." He stops seeing both men stare at him in shock and horror.

William clears his throat. "I..."

Micheal frowns, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry. I haven't, I uh..." He sighs frustrated his eyes flicker red. "This was easier before." He stops as his father ruffles his hair, and his eyes return to his normal blue.

"We have time to stop the tragedy." William pats his son's back. "Take a breath. We can do this."

Henry clears his throat. "Your father is right, but I do have to ask who Gregory is? Was he in the diner with you? Do you think he came back with you? If there is another child, I don't want them to be trapped there."

Micheal shakes his head. "I looked everywhere. I couldn't find him."

Henry nods. "Ok, we can search for him later."

The waitress returns with their food, and Micheal stares at his food, not really understanding how to proceed. He pokes at it, pulling off a piece and shoving it into his mouth. His eyes light up like they were glowing as he continues to rip off pieces eating his food like he hadn't eaten anything in years. William has to grab his hands.

"Micheal, please use a fork and knife." William looks down at his son, who seems to finally return to reality, and his face grows red, and his eyes glow a yellow.

"R-right, my apologies." Micheal cleans off his hands and eats slowly with a fork. "I think I like them."

Henry holds back a laugh as William wipes off Micheal's mouth. "You seem out of practice, I think I can help remedy that."

William gives Henry a look. "It is getting too cold for one of your cookouts."

"Bah, it's fine. we can have one." Henry smiles as William sputters.

Micheal smiles softly. "Can I go home? I want to see Elizabeth and Evan again. It's been a long time, and I have to apologize."

"Of course, after we finish, I'll take you home, and I have to talk to your mother.

.....

Micheal didn't recognize Evan at first he looked too much like Gregory, or was it the other way around. It didn't matter he nervously got closer to him. "Hello Evan." His moments were robotic, and he gave a half nervous smile.

Evan's eyes flicker as he takes a breath. "....Mikey?"

Micheal nods, and he can't control how much his eyes start to glow.

"Freddy?" Evan's voice changes it inflection to one Micheal recognized.

"Gregory....?" Micheal tilts his head.

Elizabeth tugs at Micheal's arm. "Are you a weird time person too?"

"What?" Micheal stared down at his sister.

Evan looks embarrassed. "I uh.... Mikey my uh.... my spirit split... my parts were reused to uh..."

"Gregory was an android?" Micheal pauses sitting next to his brother, and Elizabeth sits next to him.

"Yes?" Evan pauses. "I didn't know I could eat and stuff."

Micheal sighs. "Ok, it's ok."

"You were Freddy? How did you die?" Evan stares you at him

"I died twice." Micheal frowns. "I got scooped, and then I was burned." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Evan."

"Don't..." Evan leans against him. "We both have agreed that you're ok, but Gregory wants your foxy mask."

Micheal smiles. "Yeah, you can take it."

"But you don't have it yet." Evan giggles.

Micheal crosses his arms. "Then why ask for it?"

Evan shrugs.

Elizabeth gasps. "If you're giving away your stuff, I want your plushies."

"No." Micheal frowns. "However, you can paint my nails and do my hair whenever you want."

"Can you have tea parties with me?" Elizabeth smiles when Micheal nods. "Then you can keep them."

I'm so glad you won't take them." Micheal sighs and nearly jumps when the shouting starts. His eyes glow yellow and hold onto Elizabeth and Evan.

Elizabeth clings to Micheal's arm, and Evan clings to the other.

"Let's have a tea party in my room." Micheal gets up carrying both his siblings. He didn't really let either of them argue.

......

Micheal distracts the two long enough that they take a nap on his bed. He looks over to his door opening. He sees his father with a large gash across his cheek and a stab wound in his shoulder. "Father, you are injured."

William sighs, holding his shoulder. "Your mother...." He stops. "It was just an accident. I'm sure she was just threatened by me raising my voice."

Micheal knew that was a big fat lie, but he knew his father didn't know that. He takes a breath. "Father, you need to take us to Uncle Henry's now."

"Micheal, what are you..."

"Father, this is not a suggestion." Micheal stands up. "I know Mother hurts you if you do not follow her instructions. I also know mother has been killing the local pets and strays. I know you know this, too." He stares at his father. "Take us to Uncle Henry's."

William nods, picking up his two sleeping children as Micheal follows behind him.

......

Margaret answered the door and covered her mouth, William was covered in blood, and it looked like his shoulder was still bleeding, and he was swaying from blood loss. His three children were in front of him, and Micheal was holding onto his two siblings. "What happened?"

"Inside." Micheal mumbles, pushing past her, helping his two siblings inside. "Need string and a needle and a lighter."

Margaret shakes her head and drags William inside. "What the fuck happened?" The door slams behind her alerting her husband and daughter who just got back from school.

"Uncle William?" Charlie stops when her mother gives her a look.

Henry comes in right behind her and freezes. He was no stranger to a knife fight, and his partner looked like he had lost badly. "Margret, I can take him." He grabs William before he falls and motions for Margaret to grab the kids.

"Right, children, come on, this is an adult issue." Margaret is unable to grab Micheal, but she'll come back for him. She herds the other three into the guest room.

Micheal frowns. "Mother stabbed him after he tried to confront her about me."

"It was an accident." William slurs barely upright.

Henry shakes his head. "Micheal, there's a lighter in the front draw and grab a knife. I'm going to caturize the wound."

Micheal nods and follows his instructions as Henry straps his father's shirt off and heats up the knife.

His scream echoes through the home.

Henry shuts his eyes and takes a breath. "Micheal, how long?"

"They were arranged to be married, my father had no choice in the matter." Micheal frowns as he stares at his uncle, who was cleaning up his father's cheek. "You never knew. He never told anyone I found out going through paperwork."

"An arranged marriage?" Henry, stop and look over at his wife. "How much, did you hear?"

"Enough to know, I'm not letting any of them go back." Margaret crosses her arms. "I see enough of the outcome of abuse at work. I don't need to see it on people I care about." She sighs. "I don't even want to know how you know to catutrize a wound like that. Micheal, I don't know what happened to you, but I know you're different, but it doesn't matter." She sighs. "I'll get some of your clothes for him, and Micheal, can you help your siblings?"

"Yes, Aunt Margaret." Micheal runs off down the hall.

......

It's been a few hours, William was still out cold, and Henry was cooking a 6 course meal. She hadn't seen the children, so she walls down, and they weren't in the guest room, and she heard muffled talking from Charlie's room.

Micheal is standing on Charlie's bed with a handful of hand drawn pictures and notes on the wall tapped to the wall and crayon lines connecting them. Charlie was raising her hand. "So Uncle William kills me, and I become the puppet who's lefty?"

Micheal pauses. "Uh, I think a variety of Freddy you used to get around being in the rain. So to continue, after the fire and your father's speech, I woke up in glamrock Freddy." He points to the realize drawing of a colorful Freddy Margaret thinks. "Where I find Gregory aka half of Evan in my stomach hatch used for birthday cake and gifts, and it continues from there. There's the other security guard, Vanessa, who was possessed by our mother Clara, and developed a second personality that kills children, and she went after Gregory, who I know know was a very realistic android, and now understand why he looked so much like Evan. Then, somehow, in our escape, we ended up back in the past where we are now. We've already changed things."

Elizabeth raises her hand. "Did you ever see Jeremy again?"

"No, I did not." Micheal sighs. "I do miss him, but it's not important."

"You deserve to be happy too, Mikey." Evan mumbles.

"Jeremy's our age, so we just have to find him." Charlie gets up. "I vote we look for him since we know future events."

Elizabeth gets up and nods. "Yeah!"

Micheal sighs and covers his face. "That's not important. We have other things to be concerned about." He slams his hand against the wall of the pictures and notes.

Evan stands up. "No, I agree with Evan. we are finding this Jeremy guy first. We want to see your eyes glow pink again."

"Yeah, they were pretty." Elizabeth giggles climbing on the bed.

Charlie nods. "It's like a mood ring."

Micheal sighs and covers his face. "But we have to...."

Margaret clears her throat. "Um...."

"Oh hi, mom. Micheal was explaining the future to us." Charlie smiles. "We have to save the future, isn't that cool."

Margaret nods, straining a smile. "Uh yes, your father made dinner for all of you. Could you guys wash up."

Micheal nods, jumping off the bed and grabbing Elizabeth and Evan. "Time to wash our hands."

Margret stops. "Why is he carrying them like that?"

"Dunno?" Charlie shrugs following after him.

.....

[jadoue1999]

What is and what could never be

Summary: Peter meet up with someone that can help him, and makes some impulsive decisions.

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Chapter 2: The wish

Peter walked down the stairs into the sketchy lair that seemed to be pulled out of a horror movie. A bald man with deep circles around his eyes followed his descent with a smile on his lips.

“Caliban was wondering when the son of Magneto would come visit.”

He frowned as he approached the counter. “You know who I am?”

The man giggled to himself. “Caliban knows everyone. Now, how may I help you?”

“I need to get rid of this... pain. No matter what I do, it follows me, I can’t sleep. I’m just so tired.”

“This pain you speak of, it is physical? Caliban knows good mutant doctors.”

Peter shook his head. “Grief, I lost two of my close friends without being able to do anything about it. And I lost my sister years ago, but it’s too much now.” The speedster grabbed at his sleeve. “It’s a constant aching, it’s just... burning through me. I used to be able to bear it but it’s just overwhelming.”

Caliban listened to him intensely, his mind racing to find someone suitable. “So, you need peaceful sleep, yes? A way to forget your worries?”

Peter nodded. “Yes.”

“Caliban knows a guy, but he does not help everyone, and he can be dangerous. Are you sure he is worth your time?”

Something about the man’s eyes made Peter pause. There was no guarantee that whoever the mutant promised would actually help him. He took a deep breath, actually considering his actions. Whatever he was about to do, he might grow to regret it. If Charles had been there, he would have told him that there was another way, that he could find comfort in the company of his friends. He would have then told him to go for a run to clear his head and that he could help him sleep if he needed it. 

A year ago, Charles would have been there for him. 

But he wasn't now. 

Peter turned back to the man, silent frustration running through his veins. “I don’t care, I just need a break. From everything”

Caliban seemed surprised by his determination, or perhaps intrigued? Nevertheless, the man walked away into the back room before emerging a few minutes later with a paper in hand. “I have here the mutant you need, but it will not be free.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be. Had he not been a speedster, it might have caused a problem. “What do you want?”

The bald man looked around before rubbing his arms. “Caliban has been needing a new coat for quite some time now. I suppose if you...”

Peter didn’t wait for the end of his answer and ran into one of the luxurious shops of New York, snatching an expensive-looking coat that roughly seemed to be the man’s size, and ran back in the sewers. Caliban was still not finished as he plopped the coat down in front of him.

The bald mutant stared at the garment in surprise before sending him a grin. He handed him the paper but kept a firm grip on it. He pulled it closer, making Peter lean forward. “I like you, little bird, don’t get yourself in a mess you can’t get out of.”

The mutant let the card go and Peter examined the paper carefully as he absently promised the mutant to be careful. The hope of finally being able to sleep without nightmares carried him as he ran towards his destination. He wanted to be free of the pain, he wanted the world to go back as it was before they did that dreaded space mission. Or even better, make it so his sister would still be at his side. That would make a great dream.

Peter finally arrived at what looked like an abandoned building. He checked his card once more to make sure that he was in the right place before stepping forward.

“Kalmit?” He called as he entered the building.

The speedster only had time to take a few steps before an imposing man blocked his way. His eyes were as dark as ink and his skin was covered in navy tattoos. “Whoever you are, get out.”

The mutant would have definitely made anyone want to leave, but right now, he was desperate. “Please, I just want one night of sleep without nightmares. That’s all I ask for.”

The man flared his nostrils and squared up his shoulders in annoyance. “My services aren’t for everyone, boy.” He took a harsh step forward, probably trying to scare him off, but Peter wasn’t scared. He barely flinched, even as the man tried to intimidate him. He’d seen bigger and more imposing people in his life. Kalmit observed him curiously at his lack of reaction before grinning. “But I suppose I’ve been low on clientele. You want a good night’s rest, uh?”

No words could describe the relief he felt at the moment. “That’s all I want.”

“It won’t be free,” grunted the man.

That was, quite literally, the least of his problems. “Whatever you ask for, I can get it for you. I’m fast. I can get into anything.”

Kalmit let out a chuckle. “Eager, are we? Fine, we’ll talk payment, but first, tell me what you wish for.”

Seeing as the conversation turned more casual, Peter made an attempt to step forward, only to be blocked by the mutant’s arm.

“Here is fine,” he growled.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, especially considering that he wanted to stay so close to the cold air of February, the speedster cleared his throat. “I lost my twin, I lost my friends, I never had a father, all that was fine separately but I can’t take it lately. It’s keeping me awake, on edge. I’m just so tired. But no amount of sleep is ever enough.”

The man nodded at his request. “One long sleep, that’s easy enough.”

The tattooed mutant extended a hand, intending to seal the deal. Peter took it hesitantly as he met the man’s eyes. “What about the payment?”

Kalmit flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something suitable.”

The man’s hold suddenly tightened, and his eyes started glowing blue. Panic flared in Peter’s chest as he realized how strong the grip was and how it was almost crushing his hand. And how his legs were getting weaker and how his eyelids started closing on his own and– and–

And–

‘Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world and the seven seas’

Peter woke up with a gasp, his heart still beating hard in his chest. He turned to his alarm, showing the time to be barely a few minutes after 10 am. He stopped the radio and laid back into his covers and stared at his ceiling. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was in his bed, at his mother’s house. But how did he get there in the first place?

He had been in New York, far away from his mother. He had visited Caliban and then… What had happened? Could he be dreaming? He pinched his arm and winced, but nothing else happened. Not dreaming then. His eyes then locked onto the calendar close to his door, the date of today was circled in red. Peter groaned as he covered his head with his cover. Out of any day of the year, why did he have to relive his birthday? The basement door opened, and the speedster made no move to let the newcomer know that he was awake.

His blanket was suddenly ripped off him and a very familiar face came into view. “Wake up, sleepyhead!” The young woman paused in confusion at his lack of reaction. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Peter stared at his twin with his mouth gaping wide, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. She looked older, the same age as him actually. Her hair was longer, still in that frizzy style she loved so much.

He eventually found his voice again. “Wendy?”

The brunette scoffed at him. “Wendy? Did you forget my name all of a sudden, Pietro?”

The speedster was too stunned to answer his birth name because this was his twin. Alive and well, and still just as cocky as she had been.

Wanda used her powers to open his blinds before turning back to him. “Now come upstairs, mom’s making pancakes and you know how Lorna is if she waits for too long.”

That was another surprise, his little sister had left for college as soon as she could, far from him and his mom that was still deep in grief. She hadn’t known her older sister enough to be permanently affected by her death.

Wanda cleared her throat, pulling him out of his thoughts. He smiled at her as best as he could. “I’ll... I’ll be right there.”

Peter stared at his sister as she walked up the stairs and closed his door. He’d never been so confused and so overjoyed in his life. How was that possible? He was fairly certain that he wasn’t in a dream, it didn’t feel like it. The speedster got out of his bed and changed quickly before staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked the same as before. His silver hair was messy, but a comb quickly took care of that. All his albums and knickknacks he had gathered over the years, even those his mother had sent away were in his room. Whatever this place was, it was different, but for once, it was a good different.

“Hurry up, Pie!” Interrupted Wanda’s voice once more.

With one last glance in the mirror, Peter sped upstairs, eager to discover what this place would offer him. A smile adorned his lips, and for the first time in months, it didn’t feel forced.

****************

Note: Thanks for reading! If you wish to be tagged in future post, just let me know!

[bvannn]

Weekly Update October 20, 2023

So unfortunately I didn’t get a whole lot of work done this week due to exhaustion. I’m hoping I can do more this upcoming week, although some personal matters may get in the way.

I have drawn 3 more inktober drawings which are waiting to be bottle inked. I am hoping to get them done tonight but I may go to sleep instead and do them tomorrow. I have also sketched out 2 more goretober and one more cringetober drawings, but I would need to line and color them. I am hoping my workload for this weekend won’t be too bad so that I can actually get those done and more started, but no promises. I could cheat and combine them, since a few are similar, and a few even appear on both the gore and cringe prompt sets, like hanahaki, but ehhhh.

TRGA I am also still behind on but still working hard at. I ended up only getting Jon’s 1-4 animation done right before writing this update, as I had underestimated the length of the shot, and the messiness of the cleanup. Also I completely forgot to animate his hands, and had to struggle with drawing some hand positions, but it is done now. I will begin on Emile tomorrow, hopefully I can keep it up alongside general drawings, since I’ll have to keyframe him for the next few days which should not be as time intensive. I will anticipate faces and cleanup for long shots taking longer in the future, so I can schedule accordingly.

I did a bunch of really good work on music early this week, and should I get time this weekend I may take another crack at bass patterns, which would be the next step. Im really proud of what I have though I really just need to commit to the project, but obviously I have spread myself thin due to my workaholic nature. It’s still okay, as long as I can keep priorities in a row.

This upcoming week I’m going to try to get myself back together physically. I am going to rest, classwork, TRGA, Drawings, and Music in that order of priority, hopefully.