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skeletinmoss · 5 days

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The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 13: Memories to share

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Also go follow @lovelivingmydreams because she's awesome and her writing is amazing. And I have no idea how I convinced her to work on this story with just one drawing.

Enjoy reading:

And then he was in the middle of a little village. Nothing like any village he’d seen before though. The way the houses were built, the clothes the people wore… It was so different from what he was used to.

A little boy rushed past him.

“Virgil hold up!!!” a young boy’s voice shouted.

“Sorry Michael!” the little boy said. “I just want to show mom the flowers before they go bad,” the little boy said to the bigger kid that was catching up to, what Roman assumed to be, his little brother. The boy who would grow up to be the High Mage of the Night Flame.

“If you pick them, they usually last longer V. Now take my hand and lets walk home together. At least pretend I’m looking after you,” Michael insisted.

Roman studied them both. The little boy’s hair looked lighter and shorter than what he was used to seeing from Virgil. Other than that he could definitely see this as a past version of him.

He looked so happy and carefree. As only children can.

“Welcome to the village of my youth.” Roman looked beside him and saw Virgil standing next to him. “It doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing bad. People just left for greener pastures and the village got forgotten to time. I went back a while ago, it’s nothing but open fields now. I still remember it like it was yesterday though,” he continued.

“I… It looks lovely,” Roman said, not sure what to make of it.

“I figured we could combine our options. Get the most out of this dream. I’ll teach you along the way,” Virgil promised before turning his attention back to the memory and speaking the way he did whenever he taught them anything.

“It was named RiverFort,” Virgil stated. “Because of the nearby river and the fort that was built by the guild on the other side… The magic guild that is. Mages were a rarity and ascended mages even more so. Which is why I often find myself older than everyone in the room combined these days,” Virgil joked. “This is Axilla, long before we really named ourselves that. The guild aided the villages within this unclaimed territory and in exchange we all provided what we could…” Virgil nodded ahead and they saw a man and a woman greet Virgil and his brother. The woman was pregnant. Little Virgil kissed his mother’s belly and handed her the flowers.

Then little Virgil went to greet his father who ruffled his hair before continuing a conversation with a gentleman in robes.

“You really got us out of a pickle there Remy. Any idea why those wolves left their territory to snatch our sheep?” Virgil’s father wondered. He seemed like a kind man. And an animal lover with the way he gave the mage’s horse an apple and pats while talking to his rider.

“Not a clue Francis. But I’ll figure it out and make sure I won’t have to come back. If I may pick up a few blankets and a traveling cloak on the way back? Have it set aside if I don’t. Emile is in the north and he’s super capable but negotiations are always a bit iffy,” he shrugged carelessly.

“You be careful too alright. By the grace of the stars, we will see you soon,” Virgil’s father insisted.

“Bye mister magic man!” Virgil said cheerfully. The mage, Remy knelt and looked at him. “Hmmm. Getting bigger huh little man? I get a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he stated, booping Virgil’s nose to which the little one mock complained. Then he got on his horse.

“Bless your days in the kingdom of the sun,” he bid, and rode off towards the woods.

The family headed inside to listen to Virgil’s story about his day with his big brother.

“Remy was right. He ended up being one of my teachers. And he’d been around the block a few times by then. You’d like him,” Virgil chuckled.

Things shifted. Very briefly Roman saw a little bigger Virgil accidentally levitating a pot that was falling from a stove, much to the amazement of his parents and now two siblings. The little sister he’d mentioned before was an adorable toddler in this one.

Then Remy was back, performing a magic aptitude test, looking not surprised in the least. And then Virgil was being picked up by a carriage his mother tying a no doubt handmade scarf around his neck, the family wishing him luck and praying for the stars to guide him.

Roman noticed that the young boy and his teacher both had applied colored shadows under their eyes.

He got in the carriage, and the family and the village disappeared. Instead they were riding down a long stone rode in a bustling city. Though it didn’t seem as big as the capitol Roman remembered. Little 11 or 12 year old Virgil was looking around nervously.

“It’ll be alright squirt,” Remy, who’d apparently been his escort, assured him. “You’ll make tons of friends and have loads to write to your family about. And just think of all the ways you’ll be able to help them out when you get back for the breaks?” Remy pointed out.

Virgil nodded, still withdrawn from nerves. A stark difference to what he was like when in a familiar environment.

Roman looked at the passing buildings trying to find the academy.

“The one you know won’t be built for a while,” Virgil reminded him. Right… Was this even the current capitol?

“This is what you know as Lumen. One of the bigger cities at the time,” Virgil explained as time sped up around them and they found themselves on the edge of the city up a winding path towards a large building, nestled against the forest.

Then Virgil got out and showed to the dormitories and his room.

“There were ten kids in my group, all of varying ages,” Virgil stated as they watched him put his things away, hug his scarf tight and going outside. “And in a strange moment of bravery, I left my room to go and meet them right away,” he chuckled as they reached a playground where a lot of kids were playing. Most were around Virgil’s age, though there were a few late bloomers there too.

Little Virgil looked around and found a kid sitting by himself, reading.

Roman squinted. Was that Gustav?

“Hi,” little Virgil greeted.

The kid looked up, and Roman was a bit surprised to realize it was indeed a younger Gustav.

He also had shading under his eyes. It must have been the style at the time. It was kind of cute that Virgil still did it though.

The young arch mage looked at Virgil's offered hand curiously.

"Um... I'm Virgil."

Gustav gave Virgil a careful smile and accepted his hand. "Gustav," he said. Virgil visibly relaxed at the successful introductions.

"Can I sit with you, please? I promised my mom I'd try and make friends," he said softly.

Gustav giggled. "Well. I didn't, but I guess I don't want you to break a promise to yours," he said, making room on the bench.

"I almost forgot about this part... looking at it from this angle... I guess I get why he didn't like J and Remus all that much," Virgil mused next to Roman as little Virgil sat down and asked about the book Gustav was reading. The conversation seemed to be going well when suddenly...

"CRACK!"

"Woah!"

"Hey!?"

"Hi there," another boy greeted them. Which would've been fine if he hadn't fallen from the sky accompanied by a broken off tree branch. Right on top of Virgil.

Both were now on the ground with the new boy looking down at Virgil.

"You wanna play tag?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you start with: Are you okay? Or: I'm sorry? Or something like that!?" Gustav scolded as he pushed the new boy off from Virgil and helped him get up and dust him off. "I'm fine. Just... caught me of guard," Virgil assured both.

Gustav was not satisfied, though.

"What were you doing up there anyway? Spying on us?!" he accused.

"Napping, until you two woke me up... after that, a bit of spying," the boy admitted.

"That's a weird napping spot," Little Virgil said. Amused.

"Those are the best kinds," the boy argued.

"I like you. I'm Remus," he decided. Holding out his hand. "Virgil, and this is my friend Gustav," Virgil introduced, making Gustav hold his head up a little higher at being called friend.

"What on earth is all this commotion about?" A new boy wondered as he joined the group.

"Mister bright idea climbed a tree. Took a nap, we heard a snap, and then he bruised a knee," Gustav huffed. The group stared. And Roman chuckled. "Was that on purpose?" Virgil asked. Gustav shrugged. "Not at first," he admitted.

"Impressive," Virgil said.

"Well. I am Janus. And you all are...?" The new boy wondered.

"Virgin, Gus and Remus!" Remus screeched.

Gustav made a face. "Gustav and Virgil..." he corrected.

"You talk fancy. Who's your daddy?" Remus wondered. Making Virgil hide his face to stiffen a laugh. Gustav just rolled his eyes. Glancing at Virgil nervously.

Owch. Yeah. Roman wouldn't have liked two random kids stealing the show right when he was making a proper friend. Especially if it ended in him and said friend never getting close.

"My uncle, is high Mage Remy. Eternal lover of the smoldering heart. so my talent was spotted rather quickly. How about you three?" Janus wondered.

"My parents have like, a ton of stores so they paid for an aptitude test so I’d be out of their hair," Remus shrugged. "Jokes on them. I'll be even more of a menace when I know magic,” he added with a grin. Roman noted that both Virgil and Gustav felt a bit self-conscious now. Virgil glanced to Gustav, realized he was not alone in his worry and found courage. "My parents are tailors, and um... I caught a pot without touching when it fell. So when mister Remy... your uncle, came by to check on our village, they told him. And he checked, and now I am here," he said. Making Gustav relax.

"It's just my mother, and I. She helps one of the farmers who has no children to help him to get by. One day, I made a mess of her nice dress, and I wished it was clean, and then it was." He said, feeling more confident now that he and Virgil seemed to have more in common.

"Cool," Remus grinned.

Someone rang a bell. "Oh, class in session! Come on! You gotta sit with us!" Remus insisted dragging Virgil along, followed by a bemused Janus and a dejected Gustav. That must've stung.

"Your friends seem fun," Roman decided. It hadn't seemed like they were deliberately pushing Gustav away. But the young arch mage clearly hadn't felt comfortable around their big personalities.

"Yeah," Virgil smiled.

"Now. Your turn. Show me something about you," Virgil instructed, catching Roman of guard.

"Me?" He asked.

Virgil nodded. "Pick a memory. Focus on it. And share it like how you shared your emotions with me the past two days," he instructed.

Okay. Doable...

Roman took a breath. Focused and...

He was home. Just the sight of it nearly made him tear up. How had Virgil kept it together when showing his own. "I was prepared. You are doing great," Virgil assured him. Roman nodded gratefully and led Vigil to the play room where he and his friends were bowed over books on magic.

"And then he single handedly tamed the beast of Zimmer and sent it back into the woods!" Young Roman told his friends. Much to their amazement.

"I wish I could do something so amazing," Patton sighed.

"But we can. We just have to get into the academy," Logan stated wisely.

"Don't we have to pass an aptitude test for that?" Roman asked, more intrigued than skeptical. "Yes, but I found an old book in your parents' collection, one from before the plague, and in it, it says that magic is a skill you can learn. Like cooking and art. Talent helps, but it is not our only way to pass the test. It even has the instructions. Are you two with me? I am confident I can do it, of course, but I'd rather not be by myself," Logan said formally.

Young Roman grinned and threw an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Of course, big brains. Where do we start?" He stated. "Yay! We're going to change the world together!" Patton cheered, hugging his friends who chuckled.

"Admirable attitude. It is correct, of course. Even if you didn't have talent, which, for the record, you all do, you could learn to connect with your own mana 'the hard way' as they say."

Roman smiled at the reassurance. He had felt a bit insecure about that.

"Well, you didn't meet your friends at school so I’ll go again," Virgil offered showing a classroom with young Virgil flanked by his friends. Gustav a row behind them.

"Why are we seeing this from this perspective? The memory of the ball was like looking through your eyes," Roman suddenly realized.

"Because this talks easier. The details out of sight are filled in through reasoning. I remember Gustav was behind me and I now realize what first meeting Remus and J might've felt like for him. So I, subconsciously make assumptions based on that. We are watching an unreliable narrator. Especially when paying attention to what happens out of sight," he explained as the teacher paced in front of the room.

“So, who can tell me why we need herbs and minerals and animal parts for casting?” the teacher wondered. Looking over the crowd.

“Remus?” he pressed. Remus rolled his eyes. “So we don’t get tired when doing spells,” he said.

Janus snickered at his friend’s deadpan tone. “Care to elaborate Janus?” the teacher challenged.

Janus sat up straighter. “Spells cost energy like climbing a set of stairs would. Using the mana in outside sources when we can, keeps us from draining our own supply,” he stated.

The teacher nodded. "Why can’t we use whatever we want then? Why, by example, do we use Merick’s leaves and not aloe vera in pain relief spells and potions?" The teacher asked.

Virgil perked up a little, looked around to see if anyone else wanted to answer and carefully raised his hand.

"Yes." The teacher acknowledged.

"The mana in the plants is less flexible than the mana within ourselves. Pushing it beyond their natural form would cost us more energy than we would save. Pain is a symptom unrelated to actual damage. Aloe vera needs something to fix. Mericks leaves soothe and relax." Young Virgil stated. Roman cocked his head. Spotting a difference in their education.

"Indeed. You can learn the components needed for each individual spell or you can learn what those components actually want to accomplish with their mana. That will allow you to truly blossom as mages and push the boundaries of magic,” the teacher explained.

Gustav leaned over his desk and tapped Virgil on the shoulder. “Gotta be you, I’m starting to think you can look at a brand new plant and immediately tell what it’d be good for,” he whispered. So some time had passed. And Virgil had made an impression it seemed.

“Is that why you’re being such a suck up?” Remus teased. Gustav turned red and fell back into his chair. “Whatever, freak,” he huffed. Virgil was clearly uncomfortable caught in the middle of the argument.

“That’s enough of that,” Virgil decided.

Roman agreed and focused on a memory of his own to relive.

His own experience with his chosen field of study.

They stood in a different classroom. In a different building. Students were filing out and joking about. Logan and Patton hesitated by the door as a young Roman approached the teacher.

“Um… Sir?” he asked.

“What is it?” the teacher said, the enthusiasm for teaching Virgil’s teacher had nowhere to be found.

“Um… Well the dean said that we should talk to the teacher specializing in our chosen discipline about… Well specializing and I…”

The teacher perked up. “You want to specialize in herbology?” he asked. Surprised, skeptical, hopeful.

“Y-yes. I mean. Plants and their uses always interested me. And well… Being able to recognize them on sight seems like an important skill. So…” he explained awkwardly.

Now the teacher lit up. “Then I will do my best to teach you all I know,” he promised.

Roman turned to Virgil. “Herbology wasn’t very popular the past fifty years,” he shrugged.

“Well, they never taught you the cool parts so I’m not surprised,” Virgil shrugged.

The memory shifted to his teacher’s private office late in the evening. Young Roman was bowed over a few books, several pots of herbs set up before him.

“It is said, that in the time before the dark plague, there were herbologists who were so in tune with the mana of living beings, that they could sense the ingredients of anything they ate, even down to the exact amount of salt crystals.”

Virgil chuckled. “Slight exaggeration,” he assured him.

Roman wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he figured questions could wait for the road. Virgil might appreciate a distraction while they traveled.

“Sadly, the methods with which they achieved this ability have gotten lost after the plague,” teacher sighed wistfully.

“Sir… I don’t understand these instructions,” young Roman told his teacher.

“This healing spell calls for Mint root, but that feels wrong? In this one,” he pointed to another page, “the revitalization spell, mintroot is combined with Lilly pollen. And it just feels like the Lilly pollen would be far more effective for the healing spell?” young Roman pointed out.

Virgil looked to Roman with a bright, proud smile. “Good eye,” he praised.

Roman’s teacher looked at Roman’s notes and hummed. “I understand your concerns. But Lilly pollen is too potent to use on its own and any deterrent would render the benefit entirely useless. It is a level three after all. We can’t use catalysts in reckless abandon, that is what caused the plague,” he explained gravely. “But good eye Roman. You clearly have talent,” he praised. Young Roman smiled but didn’t look too convinced.

“Do my eyes spy a spark of rebellion?” Virgil gasped.

“I may have started using Lilly Pollen where I felt it was appropriate whenever I wasn’t supervised… I’d say don’t tell Logan but I think he’s thrown all caution to the wind since you made him great wizard mage,” Roman admitted.

“Following your own gut over a teacher’s instruction isn’t such a trivial matter though. That took courage,” Virgil complemented before taking charge of the memories again.

Leaving Roman no chance to react.

Virgil showed a few snippets of memories of him and his friends growing up at the academy. Laughing at Remus’ antics, debating ethics and technicalities with Janus. Going home and showing all that he had learned to his family and using it to help around the village.

And then they were inside a room with a familiar layout. It was round. The floor and ceiling decorated with mosaic representing the night sky, the magically glowing stars the only light source.

Virgil was sat in the middle of the room. Meditating.

Roman could hear the instructions echo in Virgil’s mind, the only sound in this silent room other than Virgil’s breathing.

“Focus on the flow of magic within you. Until it is all that is left. Let it show you your power. Do not waver. Do not turn away. Welcome it. It is part of you. Yet it also is a life all its own. Let it show you, who you are meant to be.”

Roman felt something stir inside him at those words. “That’s a better pep talk than I got,” he whispered to Virgil.

“Do I want to know?” Virgil wondered.

“Try not to die,” Roman surmised.

“… Roman, I never asked. How many Great mages has the academy produced since the plague?” Virgil asked.

“Um… Us?” Roman admitted.

“So… You outrank the council?” Virgil concluded. “Uh… I never thought about it like that… I guess?” Roman mused.

Virgil frowned but focused back on the memory. Also choosing to keep questions for the road.

The stars seemed to go out, and a purple glow appeared inside Virgil right at his heart.

Not a glow… A flame.

Virgil opened his eyes and stood up in the void. Looking for a light, an exit. Something.

He reached for his chest and touched the flame, held it in his hand, and set it free.

The magic spread into the room, creating new stars. Constellations Roman didn’t recognize, and was fairly certain Virgil didn’t know either. So it wasn’t just that he didn’t pay enough attention in astronomy class.

Young Virgil stared on in awe and stepped back in surprise as his magic fire returned to him and burst into an inferno, revealing a phoenix made of purple flames.

Virgil hesitated and bowed. The Phoenix let out a majestic cry and flew straight through Virgil, making his robes flare up and his hair blow back. It was much shorter at this time in his life, but long enough to be affected. Virgil looked behind him and he was back in the meditation room, the door glowing with his magic and opening.

His classmates streamed in.

“That was wicked cool!” Remus exclaimed as he threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulder.

“Uh… What was?” Virgil asked.

“Let’s just say for a moment I thought there’d be a phoenix permanently burned into the doors to the ascension chamber,” Janus smirked.

“Indeed. Congratulations. Virgilious, fate spinner, Mage of the dark phoenix,” their teacher allowed.

Roman looked at Virgil.

“My first nickname. Based on my ability to weave any sort of spell into fabric. Cleaning was my first one but I perfected it to a point where I could integrate three different spells into one fabric. After building a proper reputation as a high mage I got the name Night Flame,” Virgil explained.

Roman looked to the crowd and spotted Gustav standing by the edge. Observing with a closed expression.

Though past Virgil wasn’t looking directly at him so that wasn’t necessarily how he looked at the time.

Past Virgil was too busy feeling bashful about the attention and the title.

Roman felt a little bad for the young Arch mage. If things had gone just a little differently, he would’ve been part of the past few memories rather than a figure in the background.

“Gustav. I believe you were next?” The teacher stated. Now Virgil’s attention did go to him. Gustav hid some kind of expression and nodded formally.

“Watch him get a gnome,” someone whispered in the group, making a few others laugh and Gustav flush.

“What would be wrong with that? Gnomes are mischievous but creative and in tune with nature. There is no such thing as a bad guide. Only shortsighted, immature mages who probably shouldn’t be getting theirs yet,” Virgil scolded his classmates who looked sheepish at being called out like that.

“It’s alright Virgil,” Gustav said, finding his confidence. “Who knows? Maybe I will get a less popular guide. I’m not stupid, I know that is more in line with my standing,” he noted, strolling to the center of the room. “Then again,” he stated as he turned around. “Maybe I’ll be the dragon who will unite the lands under one crown. And you’ll all wish you’d tried a little harder to get my favor,” he smirked as he dropped himself into a cross legged position. “Well, most of you,” he finished.

The teacher guided the group out of the room. Virgil looked back briefly and found that Gustav had dropped the bravado and looked nervous. And then the door closed.

“We don’t need to see every ceremony. There was no dragon that year in any case. But I had learned that if I was going to ever become a high mage, I’d have to come to terms with the fact that I’d have to learn to fly. Remus tried pretty much the day after the ceremony to ascend. And Janus had started daily meditations in preparation for a serious attempt a month or two later.

I was nowhere near mentally ready to even think of that. So… I practiced.”

Roman looked up and they found themselves in a small clearing in a forest. Virgil was pacing the forest floor.

“A bird. Of course I had to be a freaking bird… That’s fine though. I can prepare. This time tomorrow I’m not going to be held back by something as silly as a fear of heights.”

Past Virgil stood still in the middle of the meadow and retrieved a feather from his satchel.

And then his form shrunk and changed. And before them stood a falcon, moving his body experimentally.

“Changing shape gets much easier once you ascend. As you might have noticed. When ascending you essentially abandon a physical form, and become magic yourself. And magic, can take any shape it needs to with ease. Before that… It feels a bit uncomfortable to shape your body in a form that is not its own,” Virgil explained.

“So, changing your looks wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as becoming an animal,” Roman concluded.

“Yeah. Depending on how much you change, but I suppose even changing yourself to an entirely different body type is more doable than becoming a different species,” Virgil agreed as his past self-made a few clumsy attempts to get up on a fallen tree to have a launch platform.

“What you see next stays between us alright?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “I wasn’t going to share a second of this with anyone anyway,” Roman promised.

Virgil smiled at him and then focused on the memory again where the falcon took off. And fell out of the sky almost immediately. Roman blinked and the falcon was back on the tree.

Took of once more, and fell again.

A few more minutes went by. Though Roman never saw the impact. Just the moment that Virgil lost the fight with gravity and then he started over again.

“You fell a lot,” Roman observed.

“I was much too stubborn. Getting tired made it harder,” Virgil huffed.

The memory showed an exhausted falcon, falling asleep on the forest floor… That didn’t seem safe.

Indeed. The sky grew dark and something emerged from the bushes. A fox.

Luckily Virgil woke up just in time to doge it’s attack. He cawed in warning but the fox must’ve been very hungry or in need for some food for their cubs perhaps, because it tried to attack again. Virgil, rather than turning human, fueled by adrenaline, launched himself skyward, and this time, managed to remain there. Flying up above the treetops, elated at his success, and from the looks of it he soon found himself at home among the winds.

He flew past the forest edge and made his way into a familiar village. He returned to his human form on the pathway and was immediately greeted by his family who’d been worried since he hadn’t come home before sundown as he usually did. His father had been about to go look for him.

It was a sweet display.

Then the memory shifted to inside the home. The family was gathered and an older man and two young adults were measuring them. Much to the delight of Virgil’s little sister.

“We did well for ourselves after I figured out the self-cleaning fabric thing. So, when the time came for the introduction ball of the new great mages of that year, we decided to splurge on some new clothes. We didn’t usually do anything fancy so I had a tailor from the city come to make us all something fitting for the occasion.

And, I met the guy who taught me to… appreciate dressing up,” Virgil admitted. Fondly looking at the young man who was clearly trying not to be weird while taking a great mage’s measurements.

“What happened to the lyre player?” Roman asked curiously. Recalling what Virgil said about the first man he kissed while they were sitting at the loom.

“Oh, that was years before this. I was… Sixteen. He was part of a traveling band, but they ran into some bad luck and needed a lot of repairs, so they stayed the summer and did odd jobs to pay for their repairs and necessities and such. We… hit it off. But at the end I had duties in the city and he went back to the road,” Virgil recalled.

“How old are you at this point?” Roman wondered. Virgil had been around Roman’s age when he stopped aging. And he was a great mage in this one, so this couldn’t be too long before that.

Virgil hummed.

“Well, gosh, I haven’t thought about that for a while… But I was 18 when I became a wizard… 19 when I became a great wizard. And… Yeah about 25 when I became a mage.” Roman nodded. That wasn’t an unusual timeline.

“I think… I think I’m 27, almost 28 at this point,” he decided.

Roman observed past Virgil exchange a smile and a joke with the apprentice, making him laugh and relax. He looked cute.

They watched just a little longer. Seeing the young man start to gush animatedly about his passions and Virgil starting to get intrigued.

Then Virgil showed him his next memory.

They were in a large room, lit up with various types of magic lighting. Making for a festive atmosphere. There was music playing and there were people dancing in gorgeous suits and gowns in styles entirely unfamiliar to Roman.

So far he’d seen Virgil and the others wear robes and the casual fashion of commoners that didn’t change as much. He almost wished Virgil had shown him a local festival so he could’ve seen what they’d worn for such an occasion.

He spotted Virgil and his family. The ladies looking lovely in purple gowns with feather’s in their braids. His mother’s hair in an updo and his sisters and another woman Roman didn’t recognize in a lovely half up half down. Their gowns had high collars, tiny glass beads sewn in into the fabric to make them shimmer like the night sky. Their sleeves long and widening from the elbows down. Their skirts flowing delicately with every move. Virgil, his brother and father were all wearing a similar costume consisting of a dark purple shirt with black pants and ties. His father and brother wearing a decorative feather shoulder piece on opposite shoulders while Virgil wore one on both. All the men had the shadows under their eyes, most men at the party did. It really was a fashion trend.

They looked great, and excited to be there.

They greeted a few people at the door. Virgil was predictably dismissive of his teacher’s praises and his family’s pride. He introduced his brother Michael, his sister in law Penelope and his little sister Mariane alongside his parents, Francis and Evelyn. Once he felt there’d been enough introductions he took his sister to the dancefloor she’d been eyeing since the moment they got in.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her when he saw her look at the crowd. “It’s all in the lead. So I’ll be the one looking bad if something goes wrong.” His sister rolled her eyes and stepped on his foot on purpose, much to his amusement.

Then he took her in a spin around the room. Mariane looked like she was having the time of her life. Dressed up and dancing at a ball.

And then a handsome young man tapped Virgil on the shoulder, interrupting their dance.

The young man was a bit flushed as he took in Mariane before turning to Virgil.

“My apologies, mister Virgil. Would, either of you,” he glanced hopefully to Mariane, “Mind if I cut in?” he asked.

Virgil smirked and looked at his sister who was clearly taken aback by this turn of events.

“Mariane, this is one of Janus’ cousins, Vincent. Vincent, this is my beloved little sister Mariane. Do you mind keeping Vincent company while I look for his cousin and Remus?” Virgil asked.

Mariane shook her head. “Not at all,” she breathed. And so Virgil handed her over with care and left the floor to look for his friends.

He found them soon. Both dressed even more lavishly than Virgil was. Remus a collage of styles and suits that were all demanding attention. Janus seemed to have pieces of scaled leather incorporated in his suit. Probably showcasing their guide.

Roman noticed Gustav talking to a few noble looking men with a woman at his arm that must’ve been his mother. His suit was modest if not for the ornate pieces of jewelry added to it.

Remus and Janus praised Virgil for his suit and they talked about old times and their plans for the future. Virgil laughed with them but kept glancing at the dancefloor.

Suddenly something startled him and without a word he made his way back towards the center where Roman also spotted someone trying to cut between Vincent and Mariane. Something neither seemed interested in.

“Excuse me,” Virgil announced putting himself between the pair and the third wheel.

“… Great mage Virgil. Good evening. I merely wanted to honor your sister with a dance,” the man assured Virgil.

“The honor would be yours entirely, if she was interested, which she isn’t. Go find someone who is Philipe,” he warned.

“Ah, so you know who I am… Wouldn’t you agree that it would be in your family’s best interest to…”

“I would agree to no such thing,” Virgil interjected. And Roman could feel power build even in this memory. Clearly mister Philipe hadn’t expected that reaction.

“In fact, I think you’ll find it would be in you and your family’s best interest not to anger me any further. I would be very careful of angering the Dark Phoenix. For they are loyal and reliable and inspire such traits in those they meet. I have friends Philipe, and those friends might have more influence than you’d like,” Virgil warned.

“Virgil… You are…” Mariane said softly behind him.

“Is that a threat mage?” Philipe challenged.

“It is a promise that I am not afraid to put you in your place in front of this whole party,” Virgil growled. And around him people gathered, looking at Philipe like his judgement had already been passed. And it wasn’t favorable. Vincent had escorted Mariane to her parents and they all looked on while Virgil laid down the law.

Philipe seemed nervous now, looking around the room and seeing no support. He was about to say something else but then backed away in fear. Virgil’s building power was more obvious now, his clothes and hair flaring and moments later, it erupted with a protective fury from his being.

For a moment Virgil was completely gone. Only a shapeless mass of purple flames in his space.

“Virgil!” his family called, and as if in answer to his name, the flames took the shape of a bird, and then a man, and then Virgil reemerged from the flames. Reborn as a high mage.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #prinxiety #the dark phoenix au

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azucarmorena97 · 6 months

Text

Moth to Flame (Yoongi Short)

A/N: This is connected to Yoongi's part in my BTS As Cliched School Tropes piece

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, some smoke escaping the corners of his mouth as he tries to hold it in for as long as possible. He stares across the water at the distant lights. Your stomach is doing cartwheels as you wait for him to say something...anything. "You gonna tell me why you did it?" You ask, heart pounding loudly in your ears; you're trying desperately to hold back your tears. "Nothing to say," He shrugs, the cold expression never leaving his face. "Nothing to say, huh?" You repeat, letting out a bitter laugh. "The fuck do you want me to tell you, Y/n? That the only reason I approached you that day at the park was because I thought you'd be a good fuck? And now you're like a fucking flea that won't leave? Truth doesn't sound so damn nice when it's that fucking truthful, does it?"

At this point, tears are streaming down your face and your lip is trembling beyond your control. You don't need this. Any of it.

"Well...glad I finally know where I stand..." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's all you can manage. You stand up and dust yourself off, not wanting any remnants of this abandoned and decrepit building- or relationship- on your clothes when you get home tonight. Without another word, you turn around and walk out the way you came.

Yoongi's POV:

I can't bring myself to say a word just yet. I need to build the courage- especially because after this, it's all over. No take-backs, no redos, and absolutely no I'm sorry. It feels like my heart is gonna burst from my chest.

"Watch your fucking back, because I'm coming for you and your entire block."

The words play on a loop in my head, looming over me like a curse. I should've never let her get mixed up in this. I should've been more careful...I should've never gotten close to her in the first place.

"Why'd you bring me here?" She asks, her eyes doe-like and innocent...and so full of pain. Pain...because of me.

"Just...wanted to talk." "Okay...are you gonna start with the picture?" "What picture?" I pretend to not to know- in fact, I'm pretending like I wasn't the one to send it to her through the burner phone in the first place. She reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone, meanwhile, I brace myself so that I'm ready to keep the lie going. She turns her phone around, showing me the picture I coordinated for Jimin to take of me kissing Jennie.

I feel so horrible as I glance at the screen and then at Y/n's beautifully broken face... What I wouldn't do to tell her the truth. To hold her in my arms and comfort her- tell her it was all a lie.

But I can't comfort her. Not this time.

"What about it?" I won't even meet her gaze again. I might just break down if I do. "You gonna tell me why you did it?" I can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady, but it's no use- I know she's wavering. "Nothing to say..." "Nothing to say, huh?"

I'm so sorry for this, my beautiful girl...

"The fuck do you want me to tell you, Y/n? That the only reason I approached you that day at the park was because I thought you'd be a good fuck? And now you're like a fucking flea that won't leave? Truth doesn't sound so damn nice when it's that fucking truthful, does it?"

In that moment, I can almost audibly hear her heart shatter to pieces, meanwhile, my world is crumbling at my feet...my own doing.

When I see the tears falling, I almost break, myself, but I have to be strong. "Well...glad I finally know where I stand..."

When she turns around to leave, I almost reach out to pull her back but then I remember

that this is only small price to pay to keep her safe... to keep her alive.

Lemme know what you think! DM's, requests always open for short stories/prompts/suggestions for existing stories! <3

#bts #yoongi #suga #bts suga #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #bts angst #bts imagine #yoongi bad boy #jungkook #taehyung #namjoon #seokjin #jimin

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neonacity · 1 year

Text

DEAR MR. SANDMAN | Jaemin x Reader

Summary: You're afraid you're slipping into madness. You're wrong.

You're already mad.

Warnings: depictions of mental illness, disassociation, and negative way of thinking. Hypnosis and psychiatric themes. No detailed smut but there are HEAVY hints of it. Reader is highly unstable. Please, please, PLEASE do not read if you find this theme triggering. Minors are not welcome.

"Tell me, how does it start again?"

Your lips parted slightly as you took in a half breath. In front of you, the warm lighting of the room resembled like dying flames—a sharp contrast to its supposed purpose of making the space look comfortable and welcoming. Your eyes, heavy from lack of sleep, lifted just enough to gaze at the set of hands in front of you. Blankly, you noted the pen resting patiently on the clipboard, and the long graceful fingers holding it.

"Tortoise shell. That's a new one."

"I'm sorry?"

You only realized you've said your thoughts out loud when you heard him speak. Your doctor's voice is calm as usual, unbothered despite the strangeness of your reaction. It's one of the reasons why you have decided to stick to him after going through so many shrinks who weren't able to fix you.

"Your pen. You are using a new one."

A pause. You watched quietly as his fingers started to move after to scribble some quick notes for himself. His hands have always fascinated you in a strange way; gentle, but with an odd edge you can't quite explain. You didn't dare look at his face out of fear of missing the way his fingers danced over the paper.

If only your dreams handled you the same way.

You couldn't remember anymore when it exactly started. One day, you were just a regular boring individual, slaving through your nine to five to pay for your student loans with your scrap of a salary. You go to work. Eat. Sleep. And work again. Your life is so painfully average that living it every day felt like hell. Sometimes, you're lucky enough to catch someone's eye and get a fucking. More often than not though, you're pretty much a wallflower, uninteresting and forgotten, like a piece of furniture in someone's home that hasn't been trashed yet simply because everyone has grown so familiar with it.

You've resigned yourself to a life of waste, until one day, the dreams started coming. They started subtle at first, shadows moving slowly against nothingness, too far to reach you. You didn't pay them any mind initially despite the fact that before this, you never really dreamed at all. Painfully, you noted how they were the only things that stood out from your boring existence, the only signs that told you that you were, in fact, still living.

You accepted the discomfort, just like how you have settled to take your miserable existence without a fight. But then your nightly visitors started forming shape, a peek of a curve of a shoulder here, and an elegant stripe of a throat washed by moonlight there. Then came the voices. Words whispered to the shell of your ear, or breathed against your skin. The fact that you could never remember the exact words the moment you wake up infuriates you, but your flesh… your flesh seems to remember them. As if they are seared to your very core.

"It's a gift from a friend. This pen."

Your focus snapped back to reality like a rubber band. Your eyes automatically met the dark ones of the man in front of you who obviously broke your disassociation before it went full on spiral. You were pretty sure you looked lost, but he only returned your gaze with a patient one as he sat back against his chair. Every action of his seemed pointed, silent signals telling you that you are safe and unjudged, at least in his presence.

"Let me know if you are comfortable enough to answer my question. Do you remember it?"

You gave a stiff nod.

"Do you want us to move on to other topics first?"

"N-No… I… I remember some of my dreams from last night."

If that gave him any hope for a successful session today, he didn't show it. Other than a slight dip of his head, his gaze on you stayed professional. That was another quirk about him that has also gained your trust. He seemed so calm despite your struggles.

Your madness.

You cleared your throat and unconsciously tried to rub your damp palms over your skirt. You were already wavering, so you decided to stare at your pale hands to anchor yourself.

"I slept at the same time yesterday. Around… 10pm. I made sure to take the new pill you gave me. The dreams… they didn't really come until around 3am… Just like usual…"

The sound of pen gently gliding over the paper filled the stale air of the room. You swallowed dryly to keep yourself from being distracted.

"Did you wake up as usual?"

You nodded.

"How?"

You paused. It was one word, but it was enough to drag you back into the shadowy corners of your dreams. You remember the hands tracing your body, the way their fingers curved to make sure they touched the deepest parts of you. Then there was the pain that almost seemed to split you into two, followed by the unmistakable pleasure that sets over after the white blinding scream of your flesh. It always starts like that. Sometimes you could feel teeth against your throat and nails digging painfully on your scalp. But you always wake up from your slumber one way or another. By having your breath slowly cut off by the tightening noose of fingers around your neck...

And the pleasure buzzing from your core.

Pure, unadulterated pleasure that you have never ever felt before from any man or woman. At first, you have chalked off the changing tune of your dreams as another mad but regular twist to your nightmares, but you started feeling more convinced there is something more to what's happening when you started noticing the soreness… the fullness after. As time went on, the nail marks left on your skin started looking wider, same as the welts of red on your neck that you can no longer match to the size of your hands. Every single night you find them on yourself, you wake up even more detached from reality.

"I think I'm being haunted, Sir."

The words left you before you could even realize your thoughts. The scratching of writing stopped and you felt your doctor's eyes rest on you.

"What makes you think of that?"

You burrowed your brows into a frown and pursed your lips as if you were in pain. The expression didn't come unnoticed and you saw him finally put down his pen and fold his hands in front of him.

"You know that this is a safe place for you, right?"

You didn't answer, hesitation still masking your features. You couldn't bring yourself to put into words what happened last night. If you do, then it would make the madness even more real.

"I'm scared," you mumbled as you finally lifted your eyes towards the man sitting across from you. His features, handsome and gentle, looked even more pronounced by the light and shadow that suddenly crept into the room. You didn't know if it was all in your head still, but you can definitely feel the beginnings of your consciousness slipping from reality again.

"Will the hypnosis help?"

Your heart skipped at his question. Like an addict offered a hit to stave off your edge, you gave a nod, eyes bordering on begging. You would be lying if you say that isn't the reason why you came running here. With both your waking and sleeping moments turning into your personal hell, you can only find reprieve now in moments when you relinquish your mind to him.

As if in slow motion, you watched as he lifted his hand to remove his glasses, gaze unreadable.

"Close your eyes."

You did ever so willingly, your lips parting to give a relieved sigh as your vision blurred at the edges.

And then the darkness came.

*******

Jaemin gave a low sound of approval as he stretched himself on his seat at last. Head tipping back, his lips finally curved into a slow smirk as he let the waves of pleasure flow through him in waves. He knew he could have you anytime he wants, but oh, doesn't your vulnerability taste so much better when you come here, begging for release.

What an innocent young soul, asking for help from him. Her doctor.

"They've always tasted so good like this. Maybe it's the trust," he murmured to himself as he reached to loosen his tie. He moved his fingers then to comb through his hair which fell back in dark waves over his eyes.

He was right as usual in choosing you as a host—your insecurity and loneliness is perfect fodder for him. He has to admit though, he didn't expect you to break so easily under his wiles. If only you could hear yourself beg for him every night, the way you whine for him to fill the gaps of you that only his darkness can satiate. Poor soul. He had you addicted without even knowing.

You have been perfect, but he only gives it one more month, maybe two tops, before he finally breaks you for real. Jaemin has no doubts how sweet you will taste at your ruin, but for now, he has your nightmares to stave off his hunger.

Dark eyes followed the curve of your body now lying pliantly in front of him. His gaze stopped at the beautiful strip of your neck and the necklace of red that stood starkly against your skin like jewelry.

He smiled.

If only you have looked close enough earlier, then maybe you have noticed the perfect way his fingers matched your marks.

His gift. A sign of promise for making Nightmare fall in love himself.

*******

A/N: Hi. Guess who is randomly back with a semi-proper fic after disappearing for month. I don't know where this came from but the craving to make a story for Jaemin gripped me so bad yesterday. Excuse the long-winding thoughts; I've gotten a little rusty. Anyway, enjoy and advance Happy Halloween, loves!

#jaemin x reader #nct fic #nct smut #jaemin smut #nct fanfic #nct jaemin fanfic

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

Text

S E 7 E N : L E V I A T H A N P A R T 1 N E

Finally here! This is a very interesting chapter, I love it! 😁

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), reptilian features during oral sex, intimidation, use of force, mentions of torture, death, rape, and cannibalism, murder, insulting religion, characters going against God…I think that’s it. Submitted on my phone so it's not eally proofread...again...sorry.

The next morning you woke in your bed alone, despite falling asleep with Sunoo as he caressed and hugged your body from behind…

……………….

‘Push yourself against me…just like that.’

His arm remained firmly wrapped around your waist as he pulls you in, your back plastered against his chest as he showered the slight bit of flex veins at the stretch of your neck with kisses, a series of licks, and nibbles.

‘Feel good darling?’

You barely could respond or form any words as your moans came out with a burning rage that equaled to his passion. Despite him keeping his trousers on, his chest bare, he had you stripped of your clothing, in which he has you remove each article through a striptease he walked you through.

‘Heeseung has longed to see your body move in various ways. He’s dreamed of seeing you in nothing but the flesh you were born with, and the best way to expose that to him…is with sensuality.’ Sunoo remarked as he rocked your hips, intimately observing as you stripped your cut up tank top, and bra.

‘That’s it, move that way. He’lol love that. With you, he’ll love anything and everything.’

He continues to guide you as he sucked on the plump pink nipples that decorated your mounds.

Stripping off the remainder of your clothing and undergarments, he continued to dry fuck you in various positions on the bed, ever so attentive in complimenting your reactions and responses as he would bend you over, grab you firmly, and hit you in the back with his clothed groin.

‘Uuuuuuugh….!!’

‘Good girl…you sound heavenly, yet your body moves so dirty. You’re so perfect for him, you don’t even know half of it.’

He sucked on the back of your shoulder blades, leaving marks on the fields of skin on your body.

‘So perfect….and it’s all you’re doing…your fault for being the way you are. Your hair, your eyes, your lips, your skin, your body, and voice. You truly are just like him, Gods favorite.’

With your body jolting upwards as you were for fully retracted back in repeated motion, you succumbed to the erotic sensation of orgasm time after time, again and again all throughout the night.

‘Now remember darling, I’m not penetrating you, but when he takes you, that’s going to be a different story. You’ll need to learn to build stamina…he may not be so gentle…he’s been waiting…yearning for you. Expect to be fucked for days on end.’

You heard him, but his words were barely processing as you were distracted by the intense feeling as Sunoo flips you, lays atop of you and continues to pelt you at an incredible momentum. You never knew that a feeling so pleasurable could exist without being penetrated, yet Sunoo made you into a believer that very night.

………………

Seeing the slight indent of the bedspread from where he laid, you buried your face into the pillow his head rested on. It smelled like him…like Jungwon…Jay….and Helel. The brothers scent, lingered on the pillow case as you take in a deep inhale. It smelled of something unique, foreign and yet familiar at the same time.

There was a hint of a scented incense within it, a smoky chalk of burning wood, yet a coolness of eucalyptus could be detected, along with a slight bit of sweet musk, velvet orchid, vanilla, and rose.

If every man had smelled like this, you would have fallen in love nearly every day just from the scent alone. It brought you comfort and a sense of passion as each inhale travels to your core and reignites the flamed tingle that made you rave in the motions of euphoria.

‘I’m losing myself…I can’t control it. Is it because I can’t escape from him? I feel that ever since I met him…it’s almost as if…he would have taken me away, even if I hadn’t agreed to the deal…something deep within is telling me…’

You paused your thoughts as you mentally note that today marks the fourth day…you were down to 96 hours until you were to be welcomed in the arms of death, whether it was through Helel or the angels, you were going to be gone and no longer a part of the world.

‘How will it go down? I don’t know why I question the sincerity of his intentions…perhaps it’s because I don’t know him…yet I know so much ‘about’ him through his brothers…’

Getting up, you decided to take a bath. It’s been so long since you took one since you always opted to just shower and get ready for work, but now, you needed to take time to enjoy the things in life that you hadn’t taken enough moments to relish in.

Submerging yourself in the tub, your body glows under the clear water. The immense steam overfills the entire bathroom as you had the water temperature on to a scolding temperature and yet….

‘It only feels lukewarm at this point…I keep wanting it to be hotter…I desire heat….is it because of them?’

Dipping your head down under water for a moment to drench your hair, you re-emerge slightly gasping out from holding your breath. The steam in the room begins to clear up as you turn the water off, so not to overfill the tub.

Once you did so and sat back into the tub, you were shocked as you observed the change in the scenery of your bathroom…or rather, it wasn’t your bathroom anymore…

‘What…what’s happened? Where am I? Is this…is this salt water?’

Remarking at the salty scent of the sea, you noted the atmosphere of the vast and wide nothingness around you, just leagues of water expanding all around, as if you were nowhere near land…because you weren’t.

The water wasn’t deep, as you stood straight you noted how it came up to your waist, your hair plastered over your breasts and shoulders, you gently cross your arms over to subtly cover up.

Suddenly you felt something…it felt like a whirlpool of the water swirling around your thighs and hips as it was a soft and gentle feeling, very slight in the manner of touch.

You looked down, only to find that the water, which has remained clear, displayed nothing beneath it.

‘Was it a…a snake?’

Just as you mentally prepared to figure out what was it that swerved around your skin, a hand reached from behind you cups your breast, shocking you into a state of fear as you nearly jumped, yet another reaches from behind and performs a strong hold on your hips, massaging as it drags up and down from your waist line.

“Itssssss okay princess…I’m not going to hurt you. Far from it.” He calmly speaks out with a chuckle.

You turn around and saw the young man before you, nude as you were with the water coming just under his waist line as he was taller than you.

Widening his eyes slightly, he takes in your sight.

His gaze was deep and reflected the tidal of the sea. He was just as handsome as his brothers, yet had a more exotic appeal to his features.

His hands continued to roam your body as he leans in and kisses you, inserting his tongue inside as he explores you entirely. That’s when you pulled back in shock at the feeling of it…

Chuckling, he teasingly smiles as he takes in your rather adorable reaction.

“Sorry princess, did I scare you?” He leans in and kisses you, you let him despite feeling it again.

“Shhhh…good giiiiiiirrrrrllll…see?” He kisses you once more. The tender smack of your lips contacting and detaching between the wetness of each kiss echoes within the vast openness of the wide water.

“It’s just my tongue. It’s not going to hurt you…” he kisses you again, reaching up with his hands, he combs his hair slick back as the wet strands remain the hold of the style, aside from a few pieces in the front falling forward and draping over his brows. The stretch of his toned body caused it to flex as the distinct muscles from his v-line torso, his abs, and his pectorals heightened in definition. He looked similar to that of a Greek God.

Reaching back around your waist, he pulls you in…closely. You felt the entire compass of his nude body against yours, to include the hardness of his length as it stiffens upwards, pressed against your stomach, the tip reaching in between your breasts. Granted he was taller than you, yet you could already tell how gifted he was in size.

Sticking his tongue out for you to see as he licks his upper lip, you note the split in the center, resembling to that of a snake. Which made you realize that his eyes, we’re also expressive in reptilian features as you watched how the roundness of his pupils transitioned to that of sharp slits…

“Come here princess…I’m not going to bite you, trust me. Trust Jake the Snake.” He chuckles teasingly as he pulls you back in, allowing for the water to softly ripple around you.

The feeling of his skin pressed up against your body felt beyond soothing, you moaned just at just his touch alone, yet his appearance added to the sinful indulgence as he watched you with those dark sleight blue eyes, his blonde hair, and the elaborate metal piece that decorated his bottom lip. The man was deviously handsome.

Leaning in to graze his unusual tongue along your neck, he whispers, “theeeeere….good giiiiirllll….you’re so warm and pretty….”

You tilt your head back as you embraced him fully as his body presses against yours, closing any gaps that remained in between.

“Go ahead…touch it baby.”

Reaching down with your fingertips, as his cock rested agains your skin, you stroke it and gingerly massage the tip as it lays firm against your chest plate.

“Oh yeah…you know how to tame it…don’t you?”

You nod as he continues to whisper in your ear.

“Oh good!” He exclaims as he grabs on to your waist tightly. “You’re mine for the day, aren’t you?” He calmly asks.

You nod as you whispered a soft and breathless “yes.”

“Good…the that means i can enjoy you for a little bit.”

Submerging partially down under water, his head remained above surface as you felt his arms loop around under your kneecaps. With the same strength and stamina that of his brothers, he snaps up as he lifts you steadily, not a single moment transpired where you felt off balance or tilted, his hands shoot up at your waist as he kept control and held the bearing of your weight so firmly steady.

With each leg over his shoulder, he leans his face in closer to the flesh in between them. His tongue slightly flickers as he drags it against your inner thigh while inching closer…and closer.

You whimpered in a painful sense of anticipation as your abdomen vibrates from the heat of his breath while he exhales against the slit, just a hair away from making contact with his lips.

You placed your hands over his as you dig your fingernails in, the sensation was gut wrenching, yet he loved every moment of it as he whispers against your clit…

“Mmm…dig deeper.”

Referring to your fingernails, you were going to respond.

But your words never came out. Instead, a shrilling scream of choked up gasps and pleasure escapes your wide open mouth as you face the sky and tilt your head far back.

His tongue moves up and down, coating your skin. It slithers and flicks as it rapidly taps all over in between your folds.

“UGH!!!” You screamed and squirmed as he held you steady with such ease.

“Aww…princess is sensitive…” he whispers against it as his tongue conducts a circular motion, slowly pushing pass the skin as he inserts it inside you.

Feeling as it vigorously taps agains your walls, you choked out again, moaning out, recalling his name as he spoke it out a few moments ago…

‘Jake the snake…’

“J-Jake! Ugh!!”

You Yelp out.

“Awwww…she likes to scream out names….I like that…”

“AAAH! Ugh!!! P-please!” You whimper led out. He barely even got started and already you were beyond Cloud Nine.

“And she begs….how sweet.” Remarking his final note, his tongue thrusts in and out as he incorporates sloppy and smacking kisses against your clit, moving his face in circular motion as he essentially, made out with your entry.

Only moments in and you nearly blacked out from the intensity of the pleasure he admitted.

His hands tighten around your waist as he reaches a finger to tap against yours while they remained smacked down on his, indicating for you to continue to dig your nails into his skin.

“We enjoy giving a little pain…but also like it back, princess.” He murmurs with his mouth full of your skin and flesh as he tenderly sucks, kiss, licks, and thrusts his tongue in and out. The split tip of his wet muscle reached The sweet spot deep with in, and caressed it in a manner that you wouldn’t believe.

“Ugh!! Oh my God! I’m-I’m gonna cum!! Pl-please!!!”

You begged, though you’re not entirely sure why. It was good and bad, as the sensation of pleasure and overstimulation caused you to feel tormented. You wanted more, and you wanted less. It was good that it was bad.

‘Oh my God…the way he moves it inside…I can’t…!’

“Come on girly, cum…awww do it…” he states so gently as he kisses your softness with such ultimate tenderness…it was enough to make you sick.

“Ugh!”

“Yeah…” he whispers against your clit. His tongue flickered something fierce as he burrows it deeper.

“Ugh!!”

“That’s it..”

“UGH!!!”

“Aaaaahh…good girl.”

Descending you from his shoulders, he slowly lowers you as he places a line of kisses from your bare core, up towards your bellybutton, in between your breasts, and up to your neck as you come back to a standing position.

With his hands wrapped around you, he pulls you in for an embrace. Kissing your face so tenderly as he holds you, the water soothing the overstimulation as you re-submerge into it, your body goes limp within his hold, yet he didn’t mind as he continued to bear the burden of your weight effortlessly.

“Oh girly…” kissing you so tenderly on your temple as he pushes your wet hair back, your face tilted and resting against his shoulder in an exhausted state. “You’re the sweetest.”

Placing additional kisses on your face, your sight takes in the last bit of the view as you feel yourself drifting. The steam was returning as it clouds the atmosphere…and you fall asleep.

P A R T 2 W O

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry @honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07 @raishaii @@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie

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yoonkiwii · 2 months

Text

Pieces of Love

word count: 1079

genre: exes to fwb to ???, breakup, love triangle, slowburn, eventual smut, series

summary: it's going to be a long road to redemption once yoongi breaks your heart for the last time. determined to come back to yourself, you start your journey by finally leaving his sheets. will you have the strength to push through? or will someone special stumble upon you along the way?

pairing: yoongi x oc, yoongi x oc x jungkook

warnings: angst (oops!), implied smut (minors DNI!!!), poor oc is very confused with her emotions, yoongi is possibly a jerk!, lots of conflicted emotions here, cussing, i think that's all?, yoongi is a liar, oh and everything is lowercase intentionally.

a/n: ahhh hello!!!! so, although i am no stranger to writing fics, this is my first on this new lil baby blog. this is my own long awaited return to something i never thought i'd have the courage to come back to. this series means a lot to me, and while i know i'm rather unknown, pls show this project lots of love hehe <3

if you could rewind the tapes of your life to see the exact events that led you directly to this moment unfurling in front of you, you’re not so sure you’d accept it.

the whisper of kisses gliding across your skin used to feel like sparks, tiny fires planting on every plane of your existence. but as the flares settle, all you can feel is the burn.

it’s like this every time you and your ill fated lover meet in your match of flames. dancing breaths mingling, evidence of your downpour flowing out onto his sheets, his inevitable high cascading onto your skin. drowning out the remnants of pain until reality brings you ashore, fervent lights that he reignited put out by your sea of emotional sickness.

even as you pick yourself, clothes and broken emotions off the floor, you still don’t realize that you’re being spoken to.

“___? did you hear what i said?”

ah. you just wanna go home. rinse the feeling of him and your tears down the drain.

“sorry, what was that?” your voice hoarse, proof of the number he did on you.

“you good? i actually have something serious i want to talk about.” his eyes on you, but seeing through rather than at you. you watch as they drag down your body, contemplating. as to what, you’re not so certain that you wanna know.

silence encompasses you, his words settling like a pitch black night sky over you.

“what’s up.” not your best response, but it’s not like he deserves it anyways.

“do you think… i don’t know, should we try this again? you and i?” vulnerability, something you seldom see, is adorning his face. his delivery so quiet you could act like you missed it if you really wanted to. like he really could mean it if you let yourself be delusional enough.

alas, your heart always takes the lead. your head slowly rising until you make that dreaded eye contact, the blood in your veins turning into ice as you blink, over and over again.

your expression must be the personification of a question mark, brows furrowed and cheeks rosy despite the snow storm you feel within. time feels like it’s passing so slowly that you can almost see, feel him in slow motion.

deep breath.

maybe one more.

“i– what do you mean? try what again? do i need to remind you of the last time we— im sorry. but why.” why now? what in his pea male sized brain thinks he can shake your heart like this yet again, is what you’re really wanting to say. the bubbling feelings of rage coming up your throat prevent you from unleashing months worth of hurt.

but the answer is because of you. you allow it. it’s also the reason why you don’t completely snap.

you hear the rustling of sheets as he moves to the edge of the bed, eyes downcast as you try to remember that counting thing your therapist taught you and fuck he’s reaching for your hand.

taking a sharp breath in, he smooths out your rigid fingers in an attempt to soothe you or himself, you’re not sure. but it’s not lost on you that this is the first time he’s touched you outside of when you’ve had sex in the last 8 months.

“you and i both know that we keep coming back for a reason. i love-“

“don’t. don’t you fucking dare.” looks like the anger has reached it’s boiling point, your hand being snatched away as he looks up at you in defeat. haphazardly throwing your clothes on, shame be damned as you quickly make your way to the door with your skirt not even zipped all the way up.

“you can run all you want, but you’ll be right back here again next week and you know it.” his boldness so loud it almost drowns out the self hatred of knowing he’s right. almost.

your hand brushes against the knob until it falls limp at your side. eyes closing, damn you’re too tired of this.

“what do you want, yoongi?” loss coloring your face, he thinks you look pretty when you’re sad.

“you. i want you, ___.”

“you didn’t want me when you were fucking your way through the entire city, you didn’t love me when you lied so much that even you couldn’t tell what the truth was anymore. you dont want me. you just want me to love you. you just want me to want you.” you huff out a laugh that’s meant to come out condescending, but really you just sound hurt. because you are. you are so so so tired.

“if there’s anything you could’ve learned about me in the last three years of whatever the fuck this shitshow has been, it’s that i’m stubborn. i may be wrong more often than not, but you don’t get to decide. you don’t have that control. asshole.” flicking him off for good measure, you burst open the door, not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of the last laugh as you bulldoze your way through his apartment and out the door.

fuck the elevator, you head straight for the stairs.

being in this building feels like purgatory, the memories it holds are too much to bare. not that it hasn’t stopped you in this little cat and mouse game from coming back here.

but you’ve decided. you can’t do this shit anymore. whatever spell yoongi casts on you is about to be broken, your eyes finally opening to the endless void that exists within you whenever you leave his bed. you’ve lost many friends, are losing passion for your job, and even the will to push through the darkness that swallowed you on the day your love died.

the funny thing about control is that you’ve never once had it. it used to scare the living christ out of you, but at the tender age of 27, you feel like for once it’s what you need. to let go. to be free of the shackles you place upon yourself trying to be what everyone else wants you to be.

gone are the days that you bury yourself in your bed because you’re to ashamed to face anything but your four walls. it’s not even about proving anything or anyone wrong at this point, you just want to feel again. you want joy. and you’ll have it. you know you will.

#bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #jungkook fanfic #army fanfic #bts writing #bts fic #jungkook fic #yoongi fic #slow burn

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outpost51 · 1 year

Text

— The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself (18+)

To the web, to the flame, to the zapper.

Chapter WC: 6,974

Warning(s): bullying, mild body horror

{READ HERE ON AO3} or below the cut ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

9 months, 10 days remaining

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Ow!” Dillon hissed as she missed her next catch and the rubber ball she’d been throwing against the ceiling whacked her right in the nose. She rolled onto her side, clutching her nose to ease the eye-watering throb. A week had passed since the revelation that Daisy was dying. Again. She still hadn’t done anything about her lack of training, choosing instead to drift aimlessly around the house and her part-time night job like she was dead herself. They had time. They didn’t have time. She was being pulled back and forth between assurance and urgency, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Moira picked up before Dillon even realized she’d called her. “Lunch,” she barked into the phone.

“Sandwich,” came the wry response. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call to play the word association game after goin’ ghost for a week, and you’re trying to ask me to meet you like a normal human being.”

Dillon groaned into her hands. “Fuck, sorry. Can we do the team meeting thing? I guess I need to apologize to everybody for wallowing in my own bullshit so much.”

“Maxine’s?”

“Yeah.” Maxine’s Roadhouse was their usual spot for any meal; the booths were comfortable, the food was good-for-your-soul greasy, and Maxine made the coffee strong enough to blow somebody’s eyebrows off. “Can you come get me?”

“Mom got the car?”

Dillon shook her head, then quickly added a vocal negative upon remembering Moira couldn’t see her. “I just don’t want to drive.” They both knew it wasn’t the truth, and that she just didn’t want to be alone and needed her best friend, but neither would speak it into existence. Moira had some tact; as much as she called Dillon on her shit, she knew what shit needed to shovel itself, and Dillon appreciated that.

She had time to wash off the previous night’s nightmares and grab an outfit off the floor that still smelled moderately clean before the familiar jeep horn blasted an impatient cadence outside. It was about time, what the hell had taken Moira so long? She only lived ten minutes away — six, at the speed Moira usually drove. “Going to lunch!” she yelled on her way out the door. That's how they announced their comings and goings in the Monroe house. Nobody ever checked their phones, and Cheryl liked having the verbal confirmation it was really her daughters and not some impostor with their phones.

The reason for Moira’s delay was made apparent as Dillon bounded across the yard: she’d picked up the other three first. “Get in loser!” Moira shouted over her blaring stereo. “We’re rekindling our friendship!” Dillon rolled her eyes even as she dove through the open passenger side window.

“You know there’s a door, right?” Bonnie huffed.

Dillon swore while she tried to right herself with the additional challenge of loose pants and her best friend’s insistence that speed limit signs were simply a challenge. “Yeah, but I fit through the window,” she scoffed, finally seated properly and buckling in. She leaned around the back of the seat to acknowledge the group in the back. “Sorry I was an asshole.”

“I’d say you’re actually handling all this better than I would if it was Faith,” Rosie assured, Faith nodding along next to her. “We knew you would come back in your own time.”

“Personally, I thought it would take a lot longer for you to bounce back,” Bonnie added. She spat a nasty swear as Moira slammed the jeep into a parking spot. The car they’d stolen it from blasted their horn; Moira blasted hers back.

Their usual booth was occupied by a group of high schoolers. Dillon sighed, knowing what was coming next. Bonnie didn’t give a fuck where they sat, and the twins were adamant that they not cause a fuss, because they had church in the morning, and they really didn’t feel like listening to the lecture from their dad.

“And they’re just teenagers, Moira, they’re not hurting anybody,” Rosie insisted. “It’s fine, look — there’s another booth over there on the other side.”

They didn’t know Moira. “They’re not just fucking teenagers, Rosie,” she grumbled under her breath. She was right, they weren’t; they were this year’s top dogs at Oak Hills High, led by none other than Troy Lawson, Brett’s younger brother and the current heir to Charles Lawson’s equine empire. The Lawsons bred champions, both horse and human offspring, and for a Lawson to not hold the throne at their respective schools was unacceptable, so it came as no surprise.

Though it spoke volumes to their confidence in their sons to lead that they stuck them in public school with the plebeians, rather than sending them to Heritage Academy or any of the other six private schools within rich-people-transportation range.

Moira was already mid-confrontation-march by the time Dillon formed half a half-assed argument on her tongue. Oh well, I tried, she thought. Hopefully the sneer stayed in her head this time.

“Oi, Lawson, fuck off,” Moira barked. She had such an elegant way with words.

“Or what, freak? You gonna hex me?” Troy made a dismissive gesture. “Go back to your coffin, the sun’s still out.”

Dillon could almost hear the creak of Moira’s jaw as she clenched it. The pentacle necklace that never left her neck rose and fell with every angry breath, flashing a warning in the afternoon sun. Dillon stepped up behind her best friend. Her belly button barely cleared the top of the table, but she could still mean mug the shit out of them. Moira didn’t need help taking on six high schoolers, it was the thought that counted.

“Oh look, it’s the littlest Monroe, too,” Troy’s best friend, Conner Stevens, drawled. He didn’t move from his relaxed drape against the back of the booth. “What’re you gonna do, cut yourself at us?”

The bar for being the bigger person suddenly got a lot lower. Moira snarled over the table. Dillon put a gentle hand on her bicep. “No, Troy,” she chuffed. “I’m not. But you wanna know what I can do?” She hopped up on the table, jostling his drink with the jolt and wobble of the table. “You remember what happened to Brett?”

That got Troy’s attention. “What, you gonna pull a bear outta your ass? Wouldn’t surprise me, if you’re as big of a whore as your s—” His voice was suddenly cut off with a wet choke.

“Dill—”

“He brought Daisy into it, Moira,” she spat. “His ass is fair game now.” Her head hurt and her chest tightened as her emotions rose higher, but this time she was ready for it, and greeted the pain like an old friend. Passing out would so be worth making that little worm regret even thinking Daisy’s name.

Conner shook Troy’s shoulder, but it was no use. He was fully choking on a massive lump lodged firmly in his esophagus. His blond girlfriend-of-the-week pulled him into a Heimlich position — she was a lifeguard at the community pool, Dillon thought — and on the fourth violent thrust of her hands against his diaphragm, the foreign object in his throat finally dislodged itself.

A clump of daisies the size of her fist slopped wetly onto his half-finished burger.

Dillon felt something wet trickle from her nose. Worth it. “Now get the fuck away from our table before I pick something with thorns.”

As the teenagers scrambled away, and she and her friends helped the bus boy get the table cleared and cleaned, she couldn’t help the spark of hope igniting in her heart; if she could grow a ham-fisted metaphor in Troy Lawson’s throat from nothing but a morsel of food and her own spite, she could perform a ritual in a book that she’d technically already done before.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her and Moira barely managed to shove her in the direction of the booth so she’d have a soft place to land. Still worth it, although the seats were much less comfortable when bouncing one’s head off them at terminal velocity.

Maybe she needed a little training.

Dillon gagged at the sudden acrid tang assaulting her senses and sat up with a start. “Fuck, how long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to make Maxine think you had a killer hangover so she wouldn’t call an ambulance,” Moira replied, sounding quite proud of herself. She slid a cup of coffee in front of Dillon. “And for this to cool down to a chuggable temperature. So, fifteen minutes, give or take.”

That was acceptable. Dillon could accept fifteen minutes. She was worried it had been days; she sure as hell felt like it, anyway. She didn’t want to waste any more time. “Did anybody figure anything out while I was doing my best Aurora impression?” she asked over her coffee.

“That Moira knows entirely too much about you,” Bonnie said wryly over the rim of her own mug. “Hope you’re feeling up to the Batter's Box Special.”

Dillon slid her eyes to her best friend. “No hashbrowns?”

Grinning triumphantly, Moira nodded. “Sub grits, add Swiss and cheddar.”

Dillon could have cried. Maybe she was still emotional over her sister, or maybe the adrenaline of ruining Troy Lawson’s day was wearing off, but it tugged her heartstrings extra hard that Moira had her usual memorized.

“Arright, arright, you can propose to me later,” Moira chuffed, tossing a handful of napkins at Dillon. “We got a zombie to charge up.” Her drawn-on eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline as she sipped her soda. “And clearly you don’t have an issue with the power part of the equation, just needs some refinement.”

“And about fifty percent less nosebleeds,” Rosie chirped.

Faith added, “Staying conscious would be a plus, too.”

Everyone looked at Bonnie. She sighed, already tapping out a message to her cousin. The reply came through almost immediately. “Eugene’s on his way.” She stretched up and shouted to Maxine for another cup of coffee and an order of fries. When she turned back, she met Moira’s raised eyebrow with an incredulous look of her own. “What? Your goth isn’t the only creature of habits around here. He’s weird, but he’s at least consistent about it.”

‘Weird’ was an understatement. They felt Damien’s — Eugene, according to Bonnie, but saying it behind his back and saying it to his face were entirely different things — arrival before they saw the pale, duster-clad stringbean bluster through the diner doors like a storm made of angst and too much patchouli.

Despite Maxine’s being one of the few restaurants in town that still allowed smoking indoors, Dillon tried not to light up indoors, on principle. She had her vape, but it was somehow more frowned upon than regular cigarettes.

But as Damien swept across the diner, stringy hair clinging to his face and floor-length leather duster billowing behind him on an unseen breeze, she popped a cigarette between her lips, flicking her lighter over the end with a resigned sigh. It was about to be a long fucking meeting, she thought, exhaling a cloud of spicy clove-scented smoke.

Bonnie slid over to make room on her side of the round bench seat, knowing damn well no one else wanted to catch whatever vibes he was giving off and be cursed to write bad poetry about unrequited love and bloody roses for the rest of eternity. Rather than sliding in like they expected, however, Damien placed his hands on the table and the back of the booth, then vaulted into a squat onto the seat.

“Your shoes better be clean,” Maxine huffed as she arrived with his coffee and everyone’s food.

“If you’re referring to the ectoplasmic residue of lost souls soaked into the leather of my boots, then no, they aren’t, but I washed them of hallowed mud last night and the soul residue won’t transfer onto polyester,” he drawled, more focused on shaking salt and dumping sugar into his coffee than carrying on the conversation further.

“Thanks, Maxine,” Moira offered with a wince. Dillon held out her pack of smokes without looking up from her plate, one cigarette sticking out in a silent offer.

Damien didn’t look up from digging in his beat-up canvas bag, but assumed the offer pertained to the whole table. “No thank you, Miss Monroe, I have my own hand-rolled blend that assists my focus, but I appreciate the generous offer.”

Moira took the fucking cigarette.

“So,” Damien said finally, dropping a heavy stack of stained notebooks on the table, “you’re the girl… who…” He squinted at Dillon, at her ravenous attack on her eggs, at the cigarette in her hand. His eyes widened like he was seeing her for the first time and he plucked the cigarette from her hand, holding it above his head like she’d lunge for it.

She did, but her arms were too short and she didn’t feel like becoming personally acquainted with whatever the fuck lurked beyond Damien’s fly when she inevitably fell face first over the table.

“What kind of establishment is this,” he hissed. “Who lets a child—”

“I’m twenty, Bela Ludouchey, give me my fucking potpourri cancer stick back,” Dillon snapped, pointedly ignoring the chorus of stifled giggles and the obnoxious snort Moira couldn’t hide behind an eighteen-wheeler.

Damien sucked his lips into a thin line in shock and delicately handed the cigarette back. “Well, then. That’s a little more feasible than a twelve year-old raising the dead with no prior training or practice.”

“I was eighteen.”

“I stand corrected, and my career offer stands.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dillon grunted, blowing smoke over his plate. Sure, she should probably be playing nice, but she deserved a little vindication for the twelve year-old comment. “I have piercings.”

Damien flipped open one of the notebooks without breaking his deadpan eye contact. “I’ve seen preteens forge signatures to apply at Fithum, Zegan, Stazor & Smith, a few facial piercings are nothing in comparison.”

Faith cocked her head, raising her hand as if they were in class. “Smith?”

“Tom’s human and he didn’t take the standard route of changing his name to something more esoteric to fit the profile our clientele is expecting when hiring a resurrectionist or other magically-inclined individual. I need to feel your energy, Miss Monroe.” He reached across the table and barely dodged Dillon’s fork. Had he not flinched, she would have stuck it right through his forearm.

“You gonna buy me dinner first, Discount Eric Draven?”

“Funny, Dillon, I see we’re not making this a professional affair,” Damien sighed. “I’m not doing anything untoward, I won’t even make direct contact. I just have to know what I’m working with before I give you any advice.”

“She made Troy Lawson choke on a garden about twenty minutes ago,” Bonnie drawled.

Damien blinked slowly. “Well, that’s an interesting development, isn’t it?” He reached for Dillon again, but at half the recommended speed for approaching a wounded wild animal, just in case she got spooked and aimed for his face next. True to his word, he didn’t touch her — not directly, at least; she felt the heat from his hands hovering an inch from both of her temples, and then a slight pressure and an icy tingle speared directly into her brain.

Oh, and she went blind temporarily. When her vision returned, she wasn’t in the diner. She and Damien were standing across from each other in a dark forest. The coppery miasma of heavy bloodshed made the air around them thick and heady. “Where… what the fuck did you do?”

“I’m looking at the last time you used your abilities to their upper limits,” Damien explained, already walking towards the faint voices.

Her stomach sank. Oh no. This was bad, nobody knew about—

“I already know about Brett, Dillon, I got here before you.” He turned, furrowing his brows. “You aren’t even supposed to be here, not like this. That alone is… unique.”

“God, don’t tell me you’re about to give me some spiel about being the Chosen One or some shit,” she groaned.

A rough snort shook his shoulders. “No, it just means you have somebody really badass perching somewhere in your family tree. It’s genetic sometimes.” He stopped just on the edge of the grizzly scene from two years prior. “Wow, Cheryl really did a number on him.”

“Yeah, she was out for blood,” Dillon remarked. It was so surreal looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, it almost didn’t seem real. “What do you mean sometimes? What is it every other time?”

He winced when her echo stomped her heel down between Brett’s legs. “I’m betting your dad’s a regular human too, but sometimes things from across the Veil canoodle with us.”

“My mom didn’t cheat on Darren,” she snapped defensively.

Damien carried on, knowing the show of teeth for what it was. “You’re not a Changeling, so that’s not the case either.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re not pureblooded Fae. They’re pretty easy to spot, and you wouldn’t just be using energy, you’d be creating it.” His hand went to his chest in an automatic reaction and it was her turn to wince; she knew exactly what had happened without looking. “I’ve seen enough to make an assessment.”

Dillon felt like she was being simultaneously ripped out of one reality and stuffed into a much smaller one, and when she blinked, they were back in the diner, and Damien was dunking his fries in mayonnaise as if he hadn’t just witnessed one of the darkest moments in her life. She, on the other hand, was shivering slightly, shaken to her core.

“What the fuck just happened?” Moira snapped. “Pugsley’s eyes went all horror movie for a couple seconds, it was really freaky, and why the hell does it smell like wet leaves now?”

Dillon lowered her brows. “How long were we gone?”

Moira gaped at her. “Gone? Gone? What the fuck did you—”

“We just took a little trip into her psyche, it’s no big deal, nothing happened.” Damien popped a few more fries into his mouth. “It was a few seconds at most, Dillon. Time passes differently when you’re in somebody’s memories. Anyway, you don’t need training.”

The twins sat forward in unison. “What do you mean?” they asked.

“That she doesn’t need training. The ability is there, but there’s a block on it, so there’s nothing to train, exactly. She just needs a Conduit to wake it up so she can strengthen it.” He tossed back a few more fries, then washed them down with his salty-sweet coffee monstrosity. “And therapy. A lot of therapy.”

“And a Conduit is…?” Dillon opted to ignore the therapy comment. She was fine. She didn’t need therapy, she needed her sister to be okay.

“Something Veilborne that will create energy you can use. They’re called Familiars a lot, but that’s an entirely different thing. You don’t need one for the usual reasons, considering how developed your abilities are already, but having the extra boost should help you figure out what that mental block is and how to get around it.” Damien dug through his bag again for more books. “Has to be Veilborne, though, not Veilmade, so you couldn’t use your mother. Angel, Fae, or demon, those are your choices and they all come with different prices.”

“We can put together a crowdfunding thing, I’m sure our mom wouldn’t mind telling the congregation your sister is sick,” Faith offered brightly. “How much do we need?”

Damien gave her a look like she’d just admitted she was from another planet and had, in fact, come to earth to steal all the women and cows. His left eye twitched. “N-no, Miss Wheeler, that’s. That’s not the kind of—” He paused to eat a few more fries for energy, then recited: “While the price of a single, one-time loan of energy might be something as trivial as a given amount of hours in servitude to a demon, or something less-so and steeped in trickery if one were dealing with Fae, or perhaps an amount of time or money given to more philanthropic causes with an angel, a long-term agreement could mean the forfeiture of one’s own soul.”

When he was met with even more confused stares, he continued, “A soul owned by another cannot be retrieved for reanimation, nor can it be reincarnated, unless the owner of that soul releases the contract or dies of natural causes. Should the owner of the soul be killed, the contract transfers to the being that killed the previous owner. Across the Veil, souls become tangible things; should one find oneself in such a predicament, one’s soul can think and feel pain just as their physical body once could, and as that soul is bound to the owner’s will, it is subject to anything the owner desires to do to it or for it to do.”

The table was silent until Moira, as usual, broke it with all the tact of a brick thrown through a window. “Did you just recite the fucking Conduit terms of service from memory?”

Damien sniffed, leveling her with an unamused glare.

“So… it’s a battery,” Dillon hazarded.

“… Yes,” Damien reluctantly agreed, dragging the word out. “It’s a battery that thinks and feels and sometimes has very dangerous ulterior motives.”

“And I need one to… wake my abilities back up?”

“More or less. It’s not just a simple repetition of the first ritual, you’ll have to channel more energy, it’s why we rarely bring someone back with the intention of keeping them alive indefinitely. It’s a lot of upkeep for even a firm of our size, and the fact you’re taking it on yourself is… admirable.” His face softened briefly, like he saw a reflection in her of someone he’d loved and lost. “Here, I have a few tomes for you,” he said, pushing a few books from the stack he’d put on the table and ignoring Moira as she dramatically mouthed tomes at Dillon. “There’s also a map of ley lines here — energy is more concentrated in those areas, so you might find it easier to channel power from these until you get stronger and can channel it on your own — and one of my notebooks detailing various alliances my colleagues and I have made over the years so you can get a feel for the cost.”

He held onto the stack as Dillon grabbed for it, adding, “Read it all carefully. I mean it. This isn’t just like calling a cousin to help you out of a bind, this can get you seriously hurt, and if something takes your soul, Mother help you, because I can’t bring you back.” He held her eyes in his gaze for a while, and that’s when she noticed his eyes were ringed with black. Stained. She wondered if the magic tainted him on such a deep level, everyone else around him could see and feel it, and if the same would happen to her.

When she nodded, he let go, gathered the rest of his things, and stood. “Good luck, Miss Monroe. Give my regards to your sister.” A sad smile flickered across his face. “She was always kind to me in school.”

“So,” Moira huffed, breaking Dillon from her trance as she watched him go, “what do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

“What about a slumber party?” Rosie suggested. “We’ve never been to one before, but they look really fun in the movies, and the good-guy girls always come up with their best plots during sleepovers.”

“Might I remind you we’re in our twenties?” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “We’re not preteens anymore, we’re perfectly capable of conducting business in a library or—” She paused at the twins’ teary, wobbly pouts. They had been homeschooled, Dillon didn’t imagine they had many opportunities to have friends stay overnight. “Or we can have a… slumber party,” she concluded, albeit reluctantly, with a grimace like the words tasted sour.

They found themselves at Sprawlmart for snacks and drinks, with the additional ulterior motive of getting Dillon out of her shifts for the rest of the week. “I’ll be right back, don’t go too crazy,” she tossed over her shoulder as she dashed off towards the back offices. Lucky for her, Arlene was still on shift, and even luckier, collided with her before she made it four steps.

“Well, damn, girl, didn’t think I’d ever see you so excited to come to work,” Arlene teased, brushing off Dillon’s shoulders and helping her straighten her clothes.

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here.” Dillon offered a sheepish smile. “There’s some stuff going on with Daisy—”

“Say no more.” Arlene held up a hand and Dillon shut her mouth, feeling oddly like it hadn’t been entirely voluntary. “I’ve got a few new hires that need the training, what do you need?”

“Rest of the week?”

“Done.”

Dillon liked Arlene. Her previous manager wasn’t particularly awful, but Travis wasn’t particularly great either. He put the schedules out last minute, was slow to respond to issues, and sometimes didn’t bother showing up for shifts. Arlene showed up out of nowhere a few months prior in her tattooed-makeup bottle-blond glory with a cigarette in one hand and no bra in sight, claiming she was sent by corporate to take over Travis’s position. Dillon didn’t know if it was the truth or if Arlene was just that charismatic, but the regional manager accepted it without so much as checking her resume. So far, the change had been nothing but good, and Dillon wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth, because quite frankly, she liked being able to ask off whenever she needed to for family issues and having a manager that understood her employees were people.

As they left with two bags full of candy, popcorn, and sodas, Faith piped up, “Arlene’s Fae.”

Dillon stopped dead in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. “What?”

Faith nodded. “Her back’s hollow, I read in one of the books last week that High Fae have hollow backs if you look at them out of the corner of your eye.”

Dillon’s brows sank in confusion. “How could you tell under her uniform shirt? And what would a powerful creature like that want with a Sprawlmart? Can’t they literally make actual magic?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking Faith as if she was suddenly a Veilborne expert.

“It’s a Glamour. An illusion.” Faith shrugged. “Not sure what she wants with a Sprawlmart, but she seems really nice. Maybe you can ask her for an alliance?”

“Hard no on that one, Faith,” Dillon said quickly. “I’m not mixing work and personal life like that. Besides, I’m already beholden to Sprawlmart enough as it is — I have to cover shifts and do a bunch of extra work all the time anyway, I’m not binding myself to that company further, cool ass manager or not.”

They had one more stop to make at the Wheelers’ so the twins could pack overnight bags and let their parents know where they would be; Bonnie already had clothes in her backpack due to her paranoid nature constantly putting her on high alert for bugging out at a moment’s notice, and Moira had half her wardrobe in the back of her jeep at any given time. Dillon loved her best friend, but fuck, if her car wasn’t a rolling bachelorette pad.

Daisy wasn’t home when they arrived, and Dillon didn’t know if she was more upset she hadn’t gotten to see her sister off on her weekend trip with McKinleigh or relieved that she wouldn’t be there to overhear them discussing literally summoning an otherworldly creature to help Dillon perform the ritual. The needle on Dillon’s mood-o-meter shifted heavily towards upset when her mom trotted downstairs in full makeup and heels. “Where are you off to all tarted up?” she teased.

“I’m heading up to the pack’s hunting grounds for a few days as a bonding activity, but a few of us girls are stopping somewhere nice for dinner on the way, since it’ll be our last people-food for a while,” Cheryl explained, already opening her arms for her daughter to fling herself into the hug. “Will you girls be alright tonight without me here?”

A chorus of affirmatives went up as the group set up their sleeping bags and laid out the refreshments, but Cheryl wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Will you be okay for a few days with the house empty?” she asked Dillon, quieter. “I can ask someone to stay here, I’m sure Heather wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll be fine, Cheryl, I don’t need a babysitter.” Dillon looked up at her mom so she could see the sincerity in her eyes. Maybe it was a good thing for the house to be empty anyway, if she decided to go through with the summoning. “I promise. Just text me every day and send pictures, please,” she added, just so Cheryl wouldn’t think she wouldn’t miss her.

Her mother gave her a dubious look, but shoved a wad of cash in her hand as she pulled away. “That should be enough for pizza tonight and takeout tomorrow. Daisy will be home on Monday and I’ll be home the day after, okay?”

Dillon nodded again and Moira helped her shoo her mother out the door.

“At least we don’t have to worry about watching movies too loud, right?” Moira chuffed, punching Dillon’s bicep to intercept the tears she knew were coming. Dillon almost got a thank-you out, but her best friend had already started back to their nest on the floor, cordless phone in hand.

Once the pizza was ordered and the movies were queued up, they settled in with Dillon and Eugene’s books to study. Every so often someone would point out something important and they added it to the communal notebook they were passing around. The sun set early in the evening, as it was wont to do in the fall, and as soon as it was dark outside, Rosie pulled a spirit board out of her bag.

“Why do two little church girls have one of those?” Moira sputtered.

Faith raised an incredulous eyebrow. “In case we ever got invited to a sleepover,” she huffed, like it was common sense. “We thought we could put out a general call with it and see if there’s anything nearby. Ghosts tattle.”

“You remember what Eugene said, right? That souls are tangible in the afterlife, and I’m pretty sure ‘snitches get stitches’ doesn’t stop at—” Moira’s head shot up, her eyes suddenly going to the uncovered window.

“What is it?” Dillon rested her chin on Moira’s shoulder in an attempt to follow her eyes, but all she saw were their reflections and the darkness of night beyond the glass. “What’s wrong?”

Moira squinted as if she’d see something with a little more focus, then frowned. “I dunno, Dill,” she whispered. “I thought I felt something… there, y’know? Watching us. But I don’t see anything.”

After shaking off the shudder of that particular idea, Dillon got up and checked herself. It was her house, she was in charge in the absence of her mother and sister, so it was her duty to secure the perimeter. She braced herself for a monster to slam into the window, but just like Moira, she saw nothing outside, and slammed the curtains shut with as much force as one could muster against fabric.

Little did she know that outside, pressed against the clapboard siding so hard it pinched his wings in an effort to be as flat as possible, a demon lurked just out of view.

Freaking the fuck out.

Had Pinkie Seen him? She looked right at him, right into his eyes — two of them, anyway — and for half a second, it felt like she Saw right through his Glamour, but then the little one shut the curtains and teased him with a sliver of soft, bare flesh as her shirt lifted ever so slightly. That, at least, had distracted him enough to calm his breathing and cease both of his hearts from trying to beat right out of his chest.

She had a line of bats inked over her hip, which was the hottest thing in the room — he’d spied on a few college-aged sleepovers before, and there was at least one hundred percent more pillow fighting and fifty percent less clothing.

Not that they were dressed for his benefit; he’d just gotten his hopes up for something slightly more titillating than sweatpants, flannels, and socks, for fuck’s sake. Who the hell wore socks to bed?

Brunette did, apparently, and it was no small wonder no one had called her on it yet considering the permanent scowl on her face that very much matched his own when the little one had robbed him of the show.

Something oily slithered out of the basement and he remembered why he’d come here in the first place; the werewolf that lived in the house had a real hard-on for vigilante justice, and she’d unwittingly created a buffet of evil souls he was surprised no one else had claimed. He intended to find a seldom-used pocket of the house to nest in and reap the benefits of free meals and decent wifi. If he was lucky, they’d all have jobs outside the home around the same time frame and he could take over the television for a few hours, too.

Now he had yet another ulterior motive in the form of that soft preview he wanted to bare to the world and rub his face over like a cat.

The demon grabbed the oily thing by the head as it tried to slip past, dragging it around the perimeter of the house while he looked for a way in; he hated eating in the open, there were bugs and other Veilborne skulking about, and there was a high risk that the scent of the cursed thing would alert them to his new nest. It was no use, the whole place was sealed up tight, no one was stupid enough to leave any doors or windows unlocked, and while he could just Flash inside, there was the risk he’d get stuck in a wall again or worse, make another human explode. They made such a mess.

He tried to duck into a bush when a set of headlights turned into the drive, forgetting in his jumpy state of mind that unless the pizza delivery boy had the Sight, he was effectively invisible to him. As if things couldn’t get any better, he’d somehow tangled his tail around his ankles and the fucking soul wouldn’t stop screaming, so he was forced to rip its head off and scarf it down before it spoiled. He couldn’t even savor it.

Wait. Pizza delivery meant a door needed to be opened to complete the transaction, giving him a way inside. The wiry teen was already ringing the bell, which eliminated the possibility of possessing him, then jumping to whoever opened the door and melting out before they knew what happened, but if he was quick —

The demon sublimated into shadow, tearing across the yard, through the door, and up the stairs where he hid around another corner until the girls had once more let their guard down.

And then he was getting the fucking pizza he was owed for the spoilage of a perfectly good soul.

His hiding spot had a nice view of the goings-on in the den, and as soon as comments were made about the wind picking up and checking the floor for leaves, he felt safe enough to explore the upstairs rooms. The largest smelled strongly of werewolf and suburban-mom perfume, and the one next to it… something floral, bright, and a few notes of death. The elder daughter’s room, then, he’d seen her milling about in the yard, her soul bright and cheery as she was, but starting to peel away from its vessel.

There was a small bathroom to the other side of the mother’s room, then a room that appeared to be utilized for storage. There was extra bedding in that one, and he gladly helped himself to a comforter and a few pillows. Whether the girls downstairs knew it or not, he’d invited himself to their little slumber party, and he intended to be as comfortable as they were. He would not, however, be wearing socks like some sort of heathen.

At the far end of the hall sat a door covered in odd drawings, band stickers — the little one lived there, no doubt. Pinkie didn’t live here and she was the only other inhabitant that fit the profile of someone who would decorate their door in such a fashion. Just when he turned the knob, however, the girls started chanting something… utterly ineffective at summoning spirits. He snorted to himself. This will be fun.

The demon gathered his borrowed bedding in his arms so he wouldn’t trip again and tiptoed back to his vantage point on the stairs. Sure enough, the group was all gathered around the coffee table, pushing a planchette around a spirit board. Once he was comfortable, he placed his palm on the wall, feeling for the steady hum of energy through the veins of the house, and waited patiently for their first question ‘to the spirits.’

“Is anyone with us?” Pinkie asked, projecting her voice in case the spirits were, what, deaf?

He sent a pulse of energy through the wires. The lights flickered. The girls screamed. Jolly good fun.

They were determined little buggers, though, and kept going despite the initial scare. At their next question, he sent a gust of air through the living room to rattle the pictures on the walls and make the curtains flutter. They asked another, he moved something else.

It seemed, however, that the unflappable Brunette wasn’t quite the impenetrable tower she made herself out to be; he didn’t get the chance to mess with anything, because she gave the table a subtle little shake herself. He made the lights flicker again, unprompted, but before the others could decide themselves that they were too scared to play anymore, he watched as the planchette slid over Goodbye and she tossed her hands up, proclaiming the spirits were clearly done speaking to them.

That was no fun.

He cut the power entirely, and while utter bedlam broke out with a racket of panicking girls, he snuck down the stairs to swipe a few slices of pizza. Someone almost tripped over his tail twice, and in an effort not to get kicked out, he whisked away to the kitchen to devour his spoils, eating over the sink to catch any wayward crumbs. He didn’t want to leave evidence, and besides, he was a guest, albeit an uninvited one, and to mess up their home would just be rude.

The too-bright beam of a flashlight waved near his head. He took that as his cue to move his ass, and right when he’d just gotten comfortable on the stairs again, there came a wary chorus agreeing that maybe they should all just go to bed. Dammit. He peeled his weary bones off the ground and trudged back to the storage room to make his nest again. He was in the middle of setting his deflection ward so no one would come in before he’d returned the bedding to its proper place when the sound of light footsteps coming up the stairs gave him pause. Were they not all sleeping downstairs?

The door at the end of the hall opened and shut. Forget the fucking wards. The demon slipped quietly out of the storage room, sublimating again to slip under the little one’s door. Once more, his excitement for the evening was dashed — Pinkie and the little one were still fully clothed, the former pulling a trundle out from under the bed, and neither made any indication anything further would happen. Boring.

After an uninterrupted night’s sleep in his nest, he awoke to the smell of bacon and the sounds of bags zipping up. He couldn’t risk leaving the room until Pinkie and her cursed Sight were gone. By the time he’d made it through two episodes of a random drama he picked on a whim, he finally heard the front door shut and silence washed over the house.

He barely managed to get the storage room door shut behind him when the little one came trudging up the stairs, passing within a hair’s breadth of him, but if she felt the little shock of his power jumping to her, she didn’t react. Odd, and odder still it happened in the first place. Was she the one that raised her sister from the grave? Couldn’t be, she was so… small, soft, almost frail. He considered following her into her room again to snoop around for any confirmation of his theory, but she turned the opposite way down the hall and went into her sister’s room. Was she snooping, as younger siblings often did?

The door was open when he approached. He wished it wasn’t. The little one curled into a ball on her sister’s bed and sobbed into her pillow. He’d seen a lot in his eleven-hundred-and-change years, but for once, the voyeurism felt wrong; it was too private, too intimate, too vulnerable of a moment for a stranger to witness. The tightness in his chest compelled him to quietly wave the door shut and give her the privacy she needed. He could pester her some other time, but for now, he had a basement to explore.

Arsonist Chronicles Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @writernopal @tabswrites @starknstarwars @asher-orion-writes @captain-kraken @teamdilf

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, inbox, or HERE!

#the arsonist chronicles #unlikely adventures #my fic #paranormal romance #chapter update #this is highkey one of my favorite covers ever

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thevelria · 1 year

Text

Electric Love (Gojo x reader) Chapter 12

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Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Summary:This is the 12th chapter of an AU story, some parts might be canon, but mostly not. It's going to be a love story between you and Satoru with some spice. Warning will be at the beginning of the chapters. Please read them carefully and skip if any of the listed warnings might trigger you. Otherwise have fun!

Warnings: no warnings

Author's note: I'm really sorry for the long wait. But now I'm back with the newest part of the story. I do hope you're gonna like it. I plan to add some more chapters before the story comes to an end.

Wordcount:1.7K

AO3 Wattpad

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Fear flashed in your eyes the second you realized you were in an abandoned warehouse. Sukuna was walking back-and-forth, seemingly nervous. Everything looked empty and scary. And you started to doubt that it was a good decision when you agreed to follow him. But you had no other choice. You wanted to save Megumi's life and that was the only option.

“I don't know what you're thinking about but if you're trying to figure out how to escape. I'm telling you now that it's not gonna work.” Sukuna frowned while standing in front of you with his hands crossed across his chest.

“Don’t worry. I’m true to my words. But I have a question.” you bit your inner cheek. The king of curses didn’t react, he kept staring at you suspiciously. “Look, I’m not stupid” you took a deep breath. “I know you are going to kill me. At least tell me the reason. I think I have the right to know.”

“Hmm…” Sukuna smiled and brought a chair for himself. “I want to get back my wife and you will be the perfect vessel. I told you you looked exactly like her. Your appearance, your voice, the way you walk, everything is the same. There’s only one difference.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your eyes. She had that sparkling flame in her eyes when she looked at me.”

“Because she was in love with you.” you hummed. Sukuna’s deadly stare terrified you but you kept talking. “Tell me about her! What kind of person was she?”

The man laid back on the chair and took a deep, desperate breath. He was trying his hardest to keep himself collected. It’s been way too long since he allowed himself to remember, to bring the memories back and actually think of the sweet moments he experienced with his wife. But now…so close to the end he wanted to remember. “She was the sweetest woman who ever existed.” he smiled in amusement. You clearly saw that he was still madly in love with Isebu. “She was brave and strong when it was needed. You know, she was one of the strongest sorceresses and warriors. We fought side by side, the three of us. Arvis was like a brother to us. But she was also the most gentle and caring woman. I love her so…” Sukuna realized he let his guard down, so he quickly cleared his throat and changed his attitude. “Actually you should be grateful that she will take your body.” he stood up and was about to leave. His face changed, all the marks disappeared from his face. He turned back to you.

“We don’t have much time.” Yuuji sounded worried. You had no idea what happened, so you stayed silent. “Look, I have a few minutes before he takes control again. You are strong enough to handle the sorceress he wants to merge you with. I heard them talking about the doppelganger effect or something like this. Just keep it low after it happened and wait for the right moment to switch back. I’m sure Sensei will find a way to save both of us and get rid of these curses.”

“Won’t Sukuna know you switched with him now?” you looked at the boy.

“You don’t need to worry about that. After these years I know how to trick him.” As you opened your mouth to say something you saw the marks slowly appearing on his face once again.

“What happened to her?” you acted like nothing happened and tried to keep gaining as much information as possible.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Sorcerers dragged her away from our wedding party. They accused her with fake charges, saying she attacked innocent sorcerers for no reason. I knew it was all a lie. Isebu was always so pure, acting on her sense of justice. She said there was a girl those bastards tried to take advantage of and she saved her. You know what happened? You know what those filthy fucking rats did to my wife? They executed her and I wasn’t even there.” he raised his voice as he fisted his hands. It was clearer than the sun that he was getting angry by the memories. “I was lying knocked out on the floor while they fucking killed the woman I loved more than anyone.” he yelled.

“I’m sorry.” you sighed. “You didn’t deserve this, any of you.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened by your words. No one ever said that to him. “You are really something else, little girl.” he hummed and shook his head slightly. “I can totally see why that white haired clown is in love with you.”

“Can I ask for a favor?” you fidgeted in the chair.

“If you want to ask me to let you go…”

“No. I’m true to my words. I will be her vessel and you get your wife back. But since I sacrifice myself, please promise me, you will leave them alone. All of them. All the sorcerers, the students, everyone. Can you do that? Just enjoy the life that was taken away from you so long ago, okay? Take your wife to a nice place and live in peace and love. Promise me, I’m begging you!”

“Don’t worry, little girl. I’ll do so. I already set up a nice home far from here in the mountains. Arvis is already there and getting ready for our arrival.” he smirked.

*** “C’mon kid, you need to give me some info. Anything. Megumi, please!” Gojo begged his injured student. “I called Shoko, she’ll be here in a few minutes. But I need a lead. Didn’t you hear anything he said? Didn’t he mention a place or something? I have to find her before that fucker takes her away from me forever.”

“I’m sorry, Sensei. He didn’t say anything.” he coughed up some blood. A few moments later Megumi’s eyes widened. “My phone.” he sounded excited.

“What’s with it?” Gojo frowned.

“She has my phone, we can locate her if she still has it.” The look on Gojo’s face told Megumi he had no idea what the spiky haired boy was talking about. “Give me your phone.” he reached out his hand.

Satoru tried to pretend he understood what Megumi was doing. But in reality he only saw the kid tapping here and there on the device.

“It’s done.” he sighed and tried to hide his pain. “It says she’s in Shibuya, look!”

Your man stared at the screen and realized the tiny spot appeared in the warehouse area. “Thank you, son!” he hugged the boy. “Shoko is here, I feel her presence. She will arrive in less than a minute. Will you be okay?”

“Just go and save her!

***

“It’s time, little girl.” Sukuna took a deep breath.

You nodded and closed your eyes. Billions of thoughts rushed through your mind. You’ve seen every important scene from your life as a series of flashbacks. Then Gojo appeared in your mind. His angelic face, mesmerizing eyes. You felt his soft lips as they touched yours for the first time. The memories of making love with him. His raspy, sleepy voice in the morning. You smiled slightly, because you still thought it was the sexiest shit ever. Fear slowly started to crawl under your skin, a knot formed in your chest. “I love you, Satoru.” you thought to yourself before taking a huge last breath.

“Get away from my woman you fucking freak!” Gojo’s voice made your eyes shut open. You thought your mind tricked you but there he was, flesh and blood. The second he made eye contact with you, you felt your eyes tearing up. You wanted nothing but to hug him at least for one more time.

“Sukuna.” you turned to him. “Please, let me handle him, okay? I don’t want you to fight. Just let me talk to him for the last time. Can you do that for me?”

“You have 2 minutes.” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

Slowly you walked up to your man but before he could have said anything, you grabbed his hands, preventing him from teleporting. “Please hug me tight.” you collapsed into him. The second you were close enough to his ear you whispered. “I talked to Yuuji, we have a plan. Come and find me in a year. He will take me to the mountains. Trust me, baby. I love you!” you pushed him away and walked back to Sukuna. “I’m ready!” you looked the curse in the eye.

He placed his palm on your jaw, opening your mouth and dropped the tiny vial in.

“Nooo!” Gojo screamed from the top of his lungs. The moment your eyes flashed with magic he collapsed to his knees. It was over, he lost you. Forever. At least he thought so, then he remembered your words. And even if it sounded crazy and nonsense he trusted you. He clenched his jaw and clapped his hands, disappearing in an instant. Sukuna found it weird that he gave up without any fight but he was way too happy to care about it much. He finally got Isebu back and that was what mattered to him.

***

1 year later:

“Good morning, my beautiful wife.” Sukuna greeted her in the kitchen, while she was busy preparing some breakfast.

“I’m still amazed by these modern devices.” she hummed. “Look, it’s so easy to bake anything with this.”

“You are adorable.” he walked behind her, folding his muscled arms around her torso. “I love you.” he whispered.

“I know, baby. You tell it to me every day.” she chuckled.

“And I will tell it as many times as possible.” he hugged her tighter.

“Now go and let Arvis know breakfast is almost ready.”

Gojo and the rest of the crew were waiting outside in the woods, waiting for your signal.

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allylikethecat · 1 year

Note

Can I be very cheeky and request another kiss prompt… if you feel like it I’d love prompt 23 (a kiss in relief) for Matty and George (I’ve requested a pairing this time don’t worry!!)

Ps. Have you ever considered emojis to keep track of anons? For example I sign off as ♥️ on a few other blogs

Whelp, this is it. After what feels like a very long time (or well, it's been a month, up to you if that's a long time!) I have finally come to the LAST Kiss Prompt in my Inbox! Thank you so much to all you lovely wonderful people who have sent them in! I have had so much fun working on these and am so honored that y'all liked my writing enough to request them! My inbox is always open for more requests (formal or informal) and I will always do my best to fulfill these fic requests, even if they take me a while! I'm slowly but surely posting all of the kiss prompts that I've completed on AO3, so if you want to revisit any, missed any, or want to give any some special love, they eventually will all be able to be found here. The original list of prompts can be found here! Thank you so much again to everyone who spent in a prompt!

Special thank you very much ♥️ Anon for sending this one in! I'm sorry it took me a while to get to, but I hope you enjoy it! I had no idea there were enough people who sent me asks that you guys would want to have an emoji to identify yourselves but if you want want, it's yours feel free to claim it (just not the ♥️ unless you are the newly dubbed ♥️ Anon!) Let me know what you think!

(Warnings for this prompt: Matty is involved in a single car accident swerving to avoid a deer and ends up in the hospital - when George first finds out about the accident he worries that Matty was driving drunk, however he was NOT)

❤️Ally

23. Kiss … in relief

George’s heart was racing as he made his way through the sliding door, his rain damp trainers squeaking on the polished sheet vinyl flooring as he scurried across the lobby, nearly slipping right in front of the “Wet Floor” sign. There was another man in line in front of him and he resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently. He swallowed hard, trying to will himself to stay calm. He needed to stay calm and level headed. Matty needed him to stay calm and level headed. Only one of them was allowed to freak out at a time and George knew that it was not his turn.

The man turned away, a hospital bracelet fastened around his wrist and George felt a pang of sympathy as he watched him take a step to the side, headed towards the waiting room area. But he pushed it down, he was here under his own power, meaning it couldn’t be dire. It was his turn to speak with the receptionist.

“I’m looking for Matthew Healy,” George said, quickly, bracing his hands on the counter, “I got a call that he was admitted.”

“Can you spell that for me please?” the receptionist asked.

George swallowed down his irritation. “Healy, H-E-A-L-Y,” he said and the receptionist hit a few buttons on the keyboard, frowning as she looked at the screen.

“And you are?” she asked, looking up at George, her expression bored, as if she wasn’t the only thing standing between Geroge and the love of his life.

“Ah, George Daniel, his partner and power of attorney?” he said, hating that it sounded like a question, hating that he knew that title didn’t even begin to cover it. Matty was his soul mate, his other half, his twin flame burning, one could not exist without the other. However, he seemed to have earned her approval because she hit a few buttons on her computer and then nodded to herself.

“He’s in room twenty oh two,” she said, “it’s through the double doors on the right, down the hall to the left,” she said.

George barely remembered to thank her before he was running through the double doors she had indicated, watching the room numbers tick by as he looked for 2002.

He froze just outside the door, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was going to find. Was Matty going to be intubated and sedated? Was he going to be handcuffed to the bed? George swallowed hard, hating the uncertainty, hating that upon receiving the call his stomach had dropped. He hated that his first thought, even after all these years, was that Matty was drunk. Or high. Or a combination of the two.

The woman he had spoken with hadn’t been able to give him any information over the phone. Just that Matty had been involved in a single car accident and had been admitted into the hospital a little over halfway between Manchester and London. He had been driving back from visiting his mother, George hated himself as he buckled his own seatbelt that he had declined joining Matty on the trip.

He had made it to the hospital in record time, while still being careful of the heavy downpour. Worst case scenarios playing out in his mind's eye as he drove. Matty was drunk. He had to have been Geroge thought darkly. He loved Denise but also knew she would never discourage another glass of wine, he knew that Matty would never turn one down. He ran his fingers through his close cropped hair, the strands wet even from the sprint from the parking lot. He swallowed hard. He needed to rip off the bandaid. He needed to open the door. He was just terrified, uncertain, afraid of what he was going to find.

A nurse rounded the corner and made eye contact with George, smiling up at him. “You can go in,” she said kindly, her accent thick and Scottish, seeing George’s hesitation.

He took a deep breath, and turned the handle.

“Oh love,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Matty was curled up on his side, his back to the door, his dark curls, the ringlets matted together with what George hoped was water and not blood, were sticking out from the top of the blanket draped over him. He rolled over, the movement slow and careful as if it caused him great pain.

“George?” he asked, his voice rough and wet as he sat up, blinking up at him like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I’m here, baby,” he said, moving through the doorway and deeper into the room, his legs moving on their own accord to Matty’s bedside.

He reached out, running his hands down his skinny shoulders, his sides, checking him over as if he knew what he was looking for, as if he could pinpoint what was wrong with him, what was hiding beneath the thin hospital gown. He had a cut on his cheek, a butterfly bandage holding it together, and George was sure his chest was bruised from the seatbelt and airbags, his neck aching from the whiplash. He leaned down, pressing their lips together. He licked into Matty’s mouth, burying his fingers in the curls, holding his head steady so as not to aggravate his neck, he could taste blood from Matty’s lip, he must have bitten it during the crash.

“You’re okay,” George whispered, eyes wide, as he pulled away, relief oozing from every pore. There was no alcohol on Matty’s tongue. “You’re okay.”

Matty sniffled, “I’m so sorry,” he said, he was crying quietly George realized, “I fucked up,” he hiccuped, “I’m so sorry.”

“Ssh,” said George sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling Matty into his arms. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Matty turned and buried his face against George’s chest, his breathing evening out as George ran his hand down his back, his hand hot against the cool bare skin visible between the open sides of the gown.

“What happened, love?” George asked, wanting to hear Matty’s account before he flagged down the doctor.

Matty sniffled and took a shaking breath. “Well,” he said wetly, “my car is fucked.”

George bit back a laugh. “We can replace that,” he said and Matty snorted.

“It was raining,” he said quietly, “and you know I don’t see too well at night anymore, and a deer ran out in front of the car, I tried to swerve, but I was going too fast, I just wanted to get home, and I ended up hitting a ditch on the side of the road,” he said the words coming in a rush. “And the next thing I knew the airbags went off and I was rolling down the hill.”

He took another breath, “they said I was lucky,” he said quietly, “that I had a good car, it could have been a lot worse.”

“So what you’re saying is we need to get you another Audi,” George said, trying to cheer Matty up, trying to make him smile, the grief and upset rolling off of him in waves making George’s heartbreak.

“I don’t think I want to drive anywhere for a while,” Matty said softly, keeping his eyes downcast. “The doctor’s said I can’t anyway, I have a concussion.”

“And that’s okay too,” said George, pressing another kiss to Matty’s lips in relief. “I’m just happy that you’re going to be alright.”

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

Note

For the director's cut game! ⭐

thank you for the ask!! sorry for the delay, i had a rough day but i'm finally catching up with the game :)

so i'm gonna talk about this ficbit that i wrote for the prompt list! dagor bragollach my beloved she was my first brainrot

the world burns. people shout - you shouted too, just a minute ago. it is unbearably hot, and the air smells of burnt flesh and hot rock, but you have to keep cool; you have to subdue the fire within you, have to resist its call to burn and to kill. your position is priceless. you cannot let the Enemy take it from you; you see, in your mind, various plans and plots on how to strike back, how to regain your land, how to drive back the forces that seek to destroy you. you grip your teeth and swing your sword.

i always found it fascinating that Himring managed to stand against all the forces Melkor threw at it during Dagor Bragollach. It's in a such close proximity to Angband, too! I feel it tells a lot about Maedhros' character - that he managed to hold his position and defend his place. i tried to show it in the last sentences, but I also love the contrast here: that Maedhros has to hold the "white flame" of his soul back, to keep his head clear and ready to react. clear head is his main trait here, and it is what allows him and his people stand against the orcs

it's hot. himring is strong behind your back, and you know its walls will keep you safe. you strike and you wound and you kill, and it is so unbearably hot, and yet you do not retreat. cannot retreat. will not retreat.

himring is strong behind your back!! i headcanon himring as a place of safety. yes, life there is hard, and you will be put to work if you decide to settle there, but it's also safe. behind himring's walls, morgoth can't reach to you. himring is a tight-knit community of people with one goal in mind, and nothing to lose but the connections they made there. maedhros can count on retreating there and fending the horde back from there. idk i'm getting sentimental but i really love that. and also, um, there's. there's fire, yeah. in case you forgot. i wanted to make sure people knew it was dagor bragollach and went a little overboard

and now we're finally getting to the main course which is the main reason the fic exists

you seek your brother in the chaos, brush his mind, and he burns. you falter for a mere second, and you're glad your guard is there, striking the orc who would inevitably strike you; your brother's mind pounds with pain and fear and panic, and he clings to you, seeks you - it is disorienting, and you have to grit your teeth not to go berserk there and then - and it's hot, so unbearably hot, and your blood boils, but-

aka Uh Oh, Baby Brother Is Not Doing Well! maedhros has no way to know the Gap fell yet (unless Maglor reached to him earlier). in this fic i think, maglor was basically knocking and screaming at maedhros' mind the whole way but maedhros didn't notice because he was too caught up on the battle. so when maedhros remembers to check on his brother, maglor goes abolutely unhinged. he's scared. he's hurt. there's fire and death everywhere, and he can nothing but run, and maedhros has to fight to keep cold head because and push maglor's distress on the back of his mind. but, well.

(stay alive, you order him. stay alive no matter what. make your way to me. find me. i will hold the gates for you.)

he gives maglor an order - something to stick to and give him a sign that he can trust maedhros with the control of the situation. gives him a sense of ressurance and support, and then goes back to the battle.

you rip yourself back to the reality. the world is falling apart, but you will hold it together for your brother as long as you can; and that means you bend and you strike and you burn, one with the chaos around you, and your people burn with you.

and this!! this is why i love maedhros so much!! he will bend the world for his brothers. especially for maglor. it gives him strenght to fight even more vigorously than before, because his brother is out there, and he has to make sure his brother is safe. and, finally,

come to me, you repeat once again, when all feels over, and your brother falls into your arms.

THEM. ALRIGHT. THEM, YOUR HONOR. maglor is exhausted and scared, but maedhros is there to hold him anyway. maedhros is an isle of stability for Maglor, just as Himring is for Maedhros. and after all the horror he went through, maedhros still welcomes him with open arms.

(not gonna lie i think the last bit was written as a responce of someone implying in their fic a whila ago maedhros was dissapointed with maglor for not holding the gap, which was Cruel and Unusual and made me Upset. Fin.)

#thank you so much for the ask!!#noldo answers

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alterworldstudios · 6 days

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Farmers follies episode 1

We all know how this story began, on a beautiful Wednesday morning, Mickey saw how his wife, Minnie, was talking to a rather tall and graceful mouse, who quickly made her fall into his charms. And of course, his arms. Mickey, overrun with grief and malice, took to the streets in an effort to overdose, running into a small fellow who offered him help, singing the tale of Wednesday's infidelity.

Though, is that really how the story truly began?

Because that's not how I remember it, not one bit.

The way I remember it is a bit differently, sure most of the action happened on a Wednesday, but the story itself didn't happen because retro tried to help somebody, nah. That story only happened, because of farmer.

Who's farmer and retro, you may ask? Well.. Allow me to tell you the real story of what really happened, that Wednesday morning.

To start with, this all began long before that fated Wednesday, many many moons ago, where an angel awaited trial.

Blue flames danced around her, her chained up by holy metal. A beast with horns decorated by flowers glared down at her.

"Tenebris." He began. "You are here today after the supposed crime of raising your sword against your own kind. How do you plead."

Tenebris looked up at him, A dull, tired look in her eyes. "It was simple really, I had to do what I could, to protect my daughter."

The beast growled. "You mean the hybrid? You really risked everything, just to let that foul excuse of existence survive? If anything, your sister was doing you a favor." "Don't talk about her that way, she didn't even do anything wrong!!!" "You say that, knowing full well that her existence is a mistake. An error. A lapsus. You're lucky we even allowed you to keep her alive for so long!!" "Just give her a chance!! She can do good!!!" "Good!? When she's driven YOU to attack your own family!?" "I HAD TO DO WHAT WAS RIGHT!!!-"

she suddenly screamed, and fell to the ground, holding her face as blood poured out from the hollowed holes that were once her eyes. "I.. I can't see.. W.. Why can't I.."

"silence, Tenebris." The beast growled, As the flames started to surround them both. "From this day forth, lucky is to never leave the palace, else she'll suffer the same fate as YOU." "p..please just.. Give her a chance..." "You keep pleading for her life, when yours is about to end. That's foolish, weak minded.."

"that's admirable" A new voice called out.

The beast turned to face a head angel, it fluttering in front of them nonchalantly. "You.. How is this admirable, that hybrid-" "could lead to great things, if given the proper chance. It's not every millennia that a hybrid is born, after all." "But.. But what about pan-" "we do not speak her name here."

The angel turned to face Tenebris, giving a slight look of pity. "...as one of the leaders of this fine group, I'd say.. We let Tenebris's daughter live, perhaps as a guardian" "are you crazy!? Have you forgotten about-"

The angel raises a hand, and the beast quiets down.

"... However, to balance things out.. Tenebris, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you are hereby exiled from these clouded lands for your attack earlier today.. But I assure you" he rested a hand on Tenebris's shoulder, as she slowly passes out. "We will take good care of lucky, I promise you that..."

And thus, Tenebris was exiled to the northern lands, and lucky was raised under the care of lunacy, the head Angel who had spared her all those moons ago.

She is unaware of what happened to her mother that day, for all she knows, she was just a creation of lunacy, given a chance despite her strange imperfections.

Over time, she grew up to be a weak yet caring angel, easy to spot her in the crowd due to her right eye, who's pupil was shaped like a warning sign, an exclamation mark resting in the middle.

Now you may be wondering.. How does this have anything to do with the tale of Wednesday's infidelity? Where's the rodent. Where's the boy singing his heart out.

Patience, reader.. For that story, begins now.

The sun started to rise above the clouds, them turning a soft shade of pink from the bright, friendly light.

As the sun shines down upon them, A small angels rabbit ears twitch, as she stirred awake, yawning softly as she stretched. "Morning starshine, the earth says hello" spoke a calm voice.

Her ears perked up, as she turned to face lunacy. "Mornin dad.." "Good morning lucky.. Ready for the big day?" "Wha... What's so special about today...?"

Lunacy smiles, shaking his head. "It's the day silly, it's-" "LUCKY CMON AND GET UP OUTTA BED!! CMON CMON CMON!!!" luckys ears shot up as her friend, Retro, burst into the room, prompting lunacy to chuckle at the sudden excitement.

"Wh-huh? Retro? Lunacy? Why are you-" "ITS GUARDIAN ANGEL TRAINING DAY!!! CMON CMON CMON WE'RE GONNA BE LAAAATE!!!" Retro said excitedly, pulling lucky out of bed. "What!? Its today!?" "You seriously forgot!?" "I.. I thought it was on Thursday.." Retro shook his head in disbelief. Lucky was always so airheaded. "well get your mind outta the gutter and get ready!! Ill be waiting outside!!" Retro said as he raced out.

Lunacy and lucky turned to face each other, and they both started giggling. "He sure is excitable, isn't he?" "Heh, yea he is!.. Although..." She fiddled with her ears, A look of nervousness on her face. Lunacy only smiled, and rested his arm on her shoulder. "Hey, trust me, you're gonna do great out there little rabbit.." "..b.. But what if i.." "Hey now, don't lose hope on it before it even happens lucky.. I assure you, they're gonna love you on the guardians force!.. Besides, we've been training for years for this, and I know that you are gonna be the greatest guardian angel the world has ever seen!" lucky smiled slightly. "I.. I hope that is true.." "Attagirl, thats the spirit! go on! Seize the day!"

Lucky nodded, and gave him a hug, running off to get ready for the day ahead.

Before she knew it, she was racing Retro across the clouds, excitedly running to a specific area, the beautiful Wednesday mornings sun beaming above them as excitement ran throughout the air.

"cmon slowpoke!!!" Retro called out, racing far ahead of lucky. "We aren't gonna make it if you don't put some work into it!" "I-im running.. As fast.. as I can!.. Whew..." Retro laughed, amused at his friends tired look. "Aw cmon, you're a rabbit aintcha? Ain't ya supposed to be, yknow, fast?" "I'm only half rabbit mind you..." "Yea yeaaa... Aha!"

They found themselves in front of a building lined with gold and silver, beautiful pearls lining the walls, shining with a rainbow color. A group of angels were waiting outside, seemingly just as excited as retro and lucky. "This seems to be the place!! Cmon!" Retro called out as he raced away. Lucky sighed,and followed soon after. She always did have trouble keeping up with him..

The angels around them excitedly chatted away, until they were hushed by a head angel, one who's halo was adorned with flowers, A cat angel sitting next to her with a shy expression. "Welcome trainees, to bright morning industries!! My came is aurora, and my companion here is..." "..Ortensia, it is nice to meet you all" the cat whispered, bowing slightly.

Lucky was intrigued by the cat, she hadn't seen souls like her before..she looked so.. Sad,compared to the other souls here.. Though when the cat turned to face her, she quickly turned away, embarrassed.

"Ortensia and I will be showing you around the place! Then once we are done,we may begin training! We do hope you enjoy your time here!" The angel walked off, the crowd following.

Lucky looked on in amazement. She was really doing it. she was finally here, finally being able to train to be a guardian as she always wanted..

Her thoughts were interrupted by Retro, who tugged at her ear. She yelped, and turned to face him, but he quickly shushed her, giving a sly look. "follow me." He said, as he swiftly ran off away from the crowd.

Lucky seemed alarmed, turning to face the crowd. Upon realising that no one noticed Retros sudden departure, she sighed, and gave chase. Somebody had to keep him out of trouble..

As she ran after him, she called out. "Where are we going!?" "You'll see! You're gonna wanna see it anyway!!" "What??.. What is it?" "You'll- aha!!"

They stopped, halting in front of a large hole in the clouds. "See? There it is! Earth!!" Retro said smugly.

"Woah..." Lucky uttered, looking down to the monochrome world below, forgetting the fact they were.. Likely breaking the rules a bit. Her curiosity always did distract her. "It's so..." "Grey?" "No... Pretty!" "You and I have differing opinions on what's pretty and what's not, lucky, seems kinds depressing to me" "w... Well maybe we can fix that when we're guardian's!!"

Retro was about to respond, when a different voice rang out. "You? A Guardian? Don't make me laugh lucky.." Lucky winced as she turned to face the two arrivals. "W.. Well I'm sure I can do well, Mallory.." "You really think the head angels would give you a shot? You? A hybrid?? Not to mention the fact you left the group behind!!" lucky flinched, giving a sheepish look. "I.. Well.. I know lunacys been training me, s... So I have a chance!" "Oh please, don't make me laugh, he's only helping you because-" "lay off Mallory." Retro stood between her and lucky, glaring at her.

"Oh great, its you. Y'know, you should reaaaally stay away from the outcast, it ain't a good luck on ya" "she isn't an outcast, last I've checked. And I'm sure she'll make a great guardian when the time comes!!" "Oh really, and what makes you think-... hm.."

Luckys ears perked up, she recognized that pause, but before she could do anything, she was suddenly shoved off of the cloud. "if you think she'd make a good guardian, then LETS SEE IT!!!" "WAIT, NO!!!" retro panicked, and flew after her.

Lucky couldn't hear them, the wind whipping through her ears made it so that she could hear nothing but the air around her. She tried flapping her wings, but due to a defect in being a hybrid, her attempts were for naught. Tears in her eyes, she braced for impact, her world growing dark.

Falling.

falling.

She was falling for what felt like a long time.. Until A new voice suddenly met her ears, a strange flower bloomed around her. "You... Please... Save him..." "H..huh?..s..save who? Who are you!?" "Please... Please..." Lucky looked around her, as a pink hydrangea flower surrounded her, covering her sight, as the voice silently pleaded to her to help someone. But who?..

THUD

She landed in a field with a quiet yelp, the flower exploding and releasing her from its petals. She groaned, getting up and gathering her senses. "Where..."

It was a wheat field, A lonely farm off in the distance, A grey rickety fence lining the seemingly endless field. Looking down, she realized something else. Her appearance had changed, seemingly into a lad wearing a bowler hat and farmer get up. Her ears, wings and tail were gone, showing no indication that she was an angel. "What in the..."

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the soft melody of someone playing a banjo. Confused, and slightly scared, she slowly made her way to the source of the noise..

Not knowing she was being watched.

"boss..." Spoke a slightly annoyed voice. "What do we do? And did you see that flower!? I swear if that cat is trying to-" "calm yourself, ret, I highly doubt that the little... Whatever that thing is, can do a thing to stop our plan." "Don't you think we should.. Yknow... Play it safe and NOT be idiots?- eep!" The little demon flinched as the larger one pointed a spear at him. "Oh trust me.. I've got plans.. Don't question me again, ret." "G.. Got it.." The little demon grumbled, as the larger one turned his spear to lucky. "...if it tries anything.. Ill use a simple curse to get it to shut up."

Lucky on the other hand, was a bit confused. Usually her hearing was top notch due to her ears, but now she couldn't exactly.. Pinpoint anything. Though she could swear she heard whispers..

She rounded the corner, and found the source of the banjo, her eyes widening in surprise.

Resting on the fence with a solemn expression, was a tall, black and white rabbit wearing overalls, A revolver resting beside him. The song itself was dripping with sadness, and he seemed to be stressed over.. Something.

Lucky didn't know what that something could be, but without a second thought.. She ran over and hugged him tightly.

The rabbit jumped, alarmed, then turned to face her, A confused, yet tired expression on his face.

"...who are you..."

#oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald #oswald disney #disney #euthanasia rabbit #alternate universe #euthanasia oswald #mickey mouse #wednesdays infidelity #wednesday's infidelity #sundays desolation #farmers follies #fanfiction #fanfic #Farmers follies story

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finch-the-foolish · 1 year

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Oh also! Sorry for the second ping @pixiemage but I just remembered this other prophet Jimmy fic I wrote a while back. The italics are lyrics to Elsa's Song by The Amazing Devil (go listen to it it's about the horrors of war and it's cool), the lowercase is my writing.

Warnings for blood, death (like a lot), fire & smoke, breathing issues

I can hear the cannons calling, as though across a dream

the echoes of memory thunder through his head, past lives, past deaths, that which lurks beyond, all swirling through the canary's mind and twisting into song. he shudders, gilded wings flinching at the images of flame and explosion, at the death which he knows shall come

And I can smell the smoke of hell, in every stitch and seam

winds blow across the hill which makes his perch, harsh, edged by metal and gunpowder. he draws in a breath, a cough pausing his song as rugged lungs struggle for air. false senses swirl around him, flickering through unwanted memory and the premonition of a death-ridden future.

And like flowers the bodies tumble, around this muddied lot

he watches, sings, voice straining through crumbled bodies and crushed blossoms, through the deaths of so many he knows and loves. he's seen it before, so many times, though never surviving to the final falling, serving as an omen and that alone.

I cannot hear them scream, forget me not

the visions hiss through his mind, the words of his comrades strangely blurred. forget me not, remember, please. it often feels like only he recalls, like only he sees the death to come. perhaps it is intentional, perhaps he is allowed to recall it all, to watch this world go up in flames just as he knew before.

Your voice it carries over the hubbub and the hum

a voice cuts through the blur of demise, familiar, kind, edged by worry at his frozen state. he knows how bizarre it is, watching his visions commence, watching him sing and echo of death, especially for those who cannot understand his fate.

And it paints the sky and circles high like the beating of a drum

the skies haunt him even in the day, blinking with the ever present eyes, the hands of fate watching them all suffer. his lover's voice seems to swirl amongst the memories, lost in the song which still roars through his head, spurred on by the constant drumming of his heart and ragged breaths of his lungs.

You will scream I won't forget you, but I'll cover my cold ears

he can hear the muttered worries, the promises, ones he knows will break eventually. he is a creature of loss—he's long been resigned to this fate, long treated his songs as an omen of his worthless future, long seen himself as an ignored prophet, like some gilded cassandra waiting for the world to fall. he knows these words are meaningless, knows that he shall die. they all shall, one day.

It cannot be a lie if no one hears

he does not reply, merely looks away, the knowledge of these lies seeping into his mind. they cannot stop their fate, he knows, no matter what they do. he's a bird of warning lost to the night, just like the lives before him. no one can stop it, no one can save him, no matter their love or longing.

For although you say good day to me, I know I don't belong

the voices sift through his head, those constant echoes of love only further drawing him away. he knows what he is, he knows his curse. the things he foretells do not belong in a world of happiness like this, fleeting as it may be. the wings on his back and the songs in his lungs are enough to set him apart.

And although you hold my hand and say I love you, you are wrong

he has a role, a part to play in this grand scheme of death. there is no space for the care of his love, no matter how he longs for it. it shall only be broken, ruined, as he ruined all before. he faintly feels it as his love takes his hand, careful, attempts at reassurance distinct in their falsities.

Because love does not exist here, in this garden there's no feeling

the grasses rustle around the pair, flickering from their state of life to slick with a dark red, coated in the deaths of all that he knows. the trees overhead whisper of the things they have seen in their infinite time, the flowers' new blossoms a stark reminder of old loss. he whispers of old fields, of new pains, of fire and falling and a fresh demise.

And you say the words so often that I barely know the meaning

the comforts are soft, meaningless in their hope, mumbled as a desperate attempt for his survival. he knows that he shall die, knows the words lost their meaning, their truth, so many lifetimes ago, drowned in the agony of this wretched world.

And when all the flowers are rotten

the images of lost loves, of bloodstained petals, hiss out through his choked breaths

And all the cannons shot

the explosions shudder through him, false and yet ever so real all the same, bringing about tragic ends

I'll scream but you won't hear, forget me not

he sings, soft, of his own demise, of the slashing agony of twisted monsters, of a new death to accompany all before. the worry is clear on his love's face, the tension of his wings revealing his own muted fears, unhindered by the empty promises and fretting of his companion.

And in years to come you'll wander, to the place upon our hill

the image of his lover, lost like that before, echoes through his head, into his voice. the grasses are stained, the petals bloody, the trees gaining a new tale of their years. he blinks that away, focus thinning to the loss of the future.

And then you'll cry to a painted sky, I loved him then I love him still

he watches the horror on his love's face, watches their future self staring at those same damned eyes, shrieking of his unfair end. it is fair, it is necessary. the end cannot go unwarded, after all.

And you'll strew some sage and lilies, and roses where I rot

flowers, another echo of an unsung past, symbols of healing and peace and a strange sort of love, strewn above the dark of his soul's new home. he's always hated being buried, always hated the dark.

Of all the flowers you picked, I knew you would forget

a symbol of faith and love, lost to a rocky world of betrayal and death. he knew he could not truly trust, knew he was merely a sign of what is to come, knew what lurks above his grave.

Forget me not.

#:) rancher angst for you #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #it's implied but babygirl's there #traffic smp #double life #trafficblr #lqmie says things #this one's better I'm proud of this

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gyllenhaalstories · 2 years

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SET FIRE TO THE RAIN — DANNY SHARP 🚑 🔥

summary: you work for with danny. that’s it, that’s all you need to know (oh, and he loves flamingos).

warnings: cursed words, fire, smut (heavy making out, tongue sucking, spit kink, implied exhibitionism & public sex, mention of thigh riding & dry humping, nipple play, hickeys & biting kink, masturbation & mutual masturbation, painful penetration, spanking, rough sex, choking, facial cumshot). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3135

gifs credits: me (@/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i almost titled this fic getaway car, almost, but i did not want to add fuel to the fire 👀 get it, fire? this fic? i’m sorry. there are some spoilers from the movie (bank robbery, name of a character, random references) but you’re good to read it if you haven’t seen ambulance! 🚑 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

Danny slammed the door of the ambulance closed after giving it one final look. It was empty from all the bags that his men were putting away. “Today was a good fucking day,” heads turned to follow the loud voice. “We’re back in time for Castro’s episode of Paw Patrol!”

Everyone, including you, laughed at this joke.

Well... Everyone except Castro himself who repeated for the countless time that he was watching soccer, not after school cartoons. “Ah, same shit.” Danny joined the rest of the group and chuckled too as he removed his sunglasses to wink at his employee, his favourite employee right after you obviously, not that he would ever admit that out loud.

You helped taking the medical items out of the ambulance, it was procedure. Danny came up with some ridiculous environmental friendly excuse as to why they did not discard of the van right away, but you knew it was because he was too cheap to buy the expensive supplies over and over again.

Danny did not give a fuck about the environment, as proven by the gallons of gas in red and yellow containers that his men watered the ambulance with like it was some flower bed. After a few successful missions, the getaway car that was used to bring home the millions of dollars was taken care of so that no one would ever notice.

You asked him how he had access to all those ambulances, he shrugged, telling you all the world needed was a little bit of sweet talking to agree to do whatever someone in power wanted them to.

When you rolled your eyes at him, he’d do the same at you. “My city, my rules, my job. I know what to do and you just gotta look pretty while I’m doing it.”

You stopped asking, and he stopped talking about it. You let him do his thing, and you saved his ass every single time. It was a good deal, business partners. That was what the two of you were.

“What the fuck are we doing here? Staring at the sun?” Danny clapped his hands together obnoxiously loud, his men started to run from one side to the other, finishing their tasks. “Burn that shit to the ground. Now!”

Some guy lit a puddle of gas on fire and everyone watched with awe as the flames swallowed the liquid, fast, faster and even faster after that. You frowned, hoping it would not take too long before the fire turned the car into ashes. The clouds were gathering up relatively quickly, something you had warned Danny about, but he told you he did not have time to watch the Weather Channel so he did not care about the forecast of pouring rain.

Danny was leaning back against the door of the small house, a cabin he bought to hide away from the action of the city. Hide what? His casual Thursday afternoon activities that consisted of robbing every major bank in existence in Los Angeles. The cabin was cozy, it looked so harmless and quaint from the inside. Somewhere in the hills and behind the trees, some place no one would suspect that the fire that was starting was due to anything but a group of friends hungry for roasted marshmallows.

“Guys, you should hurry up!” You shouted at your colleagues and more people added fuel to let the fire grow stronger. In the meantime, you walked to the doorstep and stood next to the brown haired man who was watching the spectacle with a devilish smile on his lips.

“Aww, sweetheart!”

You stared at Danny, lips pursed in a disgusted pout. “What?”

“You’re starting to sound just like me."

“Congrats,” you paused to catch his attention. “This might be the worst thing someone ever told me.”

His hip bumped against yours when the chimes hung from the roof started ringing and shaking from the increasing wind. “Guess you were right, Mother Nature is as moody as you today.”

“Me? I’m moody? Have you ever met yourself?”

Danny laughed with you and wrapped his arm around you to give your side a tight squeeze, a subtle warning.

As you predicted, it did not take long for the sky to turn a threatening, heavy shade of grey and for the rain to contain the raging fire that lit everybody’s faces with a warm hue of orange. It smelled like burnt tires and danger, a scent you grew to like over the missions you shared with Sharp and his buddies.

Danny squinted and paid close attention to how the fire was slowing down. “Gonna finish that shit up tomorrow,” he stated and his men nodded in sync. “You better be back here at sunrise tomorrow, am I clear?” A symphony of ‘yes boss’ was swallowed by the sound of the pouring rain. He leaned closer so his lips barely brushed against the soft skin of your cheek. “And you’re staying with me tonight.”

*~*~*

“Lost my fuckin’ sunglasses.”

You heard Danny scream while you were in the living area, surrounded by piles of cash that you were busy counting. “Not my problem.” You yelled back, putting away some of the money.

“I had them on my head, where the fuck could they have gone?” You caught a glimpse of him when he ran down from the mezzanine. The vein on his temple was bulging.

You had to clench your jaw hard not to laugh at how he got so worked up over a pair of glasses. He could afford thousands of them just from today’s hard work. “They’re probably outside, we’ll search for them tomorrow, alright? It’s fine. It’s not like you’ll need them anyway.” You looked up at him once again, realizing he was not listening to a single word you said. “Hello?” You waved your hands in his direction, but he was staring out the window.

“My pool float is flying.” He sounded dead serious, so you sprung up on your feet.

“What?”

“The flamingo’s flying away!”

Danny had a thing for flamingos. You did not question it, you did not judge it, in fact you participated heavily into his obsession by buying him every flamingo item your eyes landed on.

Driven by the same urge to save the giant inflatable bird, the two of you hurried outside in the rain and tried to grab the object that was threatening to fly over Danny’s Mercedes car.

“On the left, the left! Right now!”

“I walked into a puddle, I’m soaked!”

“Shut up and get my bird!” Danny demanded.

And you obeyed, accidentally, you had slipped on the gravel of the driveway and instead of landing on the pointy rocks, you landed on the plastic float that made a funny noise as it deflated, poked through by a rock.

“My flamingo.” Danny mumbled sadly.

“What about me?” You sighed in an exaggerated manner so that he would finally help you get up from your now flat seat. “A true gentleman.”

“I know, I raised myself well. I’m a real treat for the ladies and my fellow gentlem— .”

You cut him off. “I was talking about the flamingo.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” Danny laughed dryly and looked at you from head to toe. “Shit, you really are soaked. Not in the way I like the most, though.”

You got startled by the loud noise of thunder, causing you to step closer to Danny.

And he took that opportunity to ease the sexual tension between the two of you and kiss you. Right there, in the middle of the pouring rain.

You kissed him back, something you had wanted to do during all the painfully long time you spent sitting with him at the back of the ambulance. If it was not of one of his employees getting lost in the city and needing Danny to shout the directions directly in his ear so all of you would not raise suspicions having a touristic road trip in an ambulance, you would have taken a chance and taken him right here and there.

He wanted it as bad as you. He wanted you bad, so fucking bad. He did not know how he found it in him not to force you to hump his thigh and soak it up until you made it back to the cabin. And he did not know how he waited until his men were gone to finally feel you.

All of you, you needed him to feel all of you. You grabbed a fistful of his cashmere turtleneck and pulled him along with you back to the cabin.

Danny had barely enough time to shut the door behind the two of you that you were working on peeling off the wet layers of clothes from your body. He did the same, not without slowing down to catch you as you unclasped your bra in a blink of an eye.

“I gotta do everything around here or what?” You hurried to help him too, pulling down his pants along his underwear to strip him fully naked.

“Don’t act like you’re the boss of me right now, sweetheart.”

You swallowed thickly, noticing how his chest rose up and down with the heavy breaths he was taking. You leaned against the door, your legs open wide enough for you to sneak your hand down your body.

He slapped it away and held your jaw open with his hand. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.” He encouraged you as you opened your mouth and poked your tongue out.

Danny spit in your mouth and watched it drip down to your chest. He smeared it around, using both hands to cup your tits and press them together.

You kept your mouth open, but your eyes closed when he pinched on your nipples and pulled on them, hard. He wanted it to hurt, and the pain was delicious.

He abandoned your breasts to bite and suck on your neck, that sweet spot that drove the two of your wild.

You brought your hand to your mouth and shoved your middle and pointer finger inside it, pushing it far enough to cause you to gag around your fingers and you dipped your fingers in the spit.

He had pulled away to watch you. “What a dirty little slut.” He guided your hand between your bodies until it touched your pussy, instructing you to touch yourself for him.

And you did, not wasting a second before you rubbed slow circles around your clit with your wet fingers. “Shit, Danny!”

You reacted to the feeling of his teeth biting in your shoulder, he was adding more marks to the ones that were fading. “Harder baby, come on, give me more than that.”

And, once again, you obeyed. You picked up the pace and fought against the pain of the friction to rub your clit faster. Your moans echoed in the cabin while you felt his cock grow harder against your thigh.

He let your noises drive him crazy until you used your free hand to jerk him off in awkward, clumsy strokes. His hips jerked, he was basically humping the air when you moved your hand to coat it in some of your wetness to make it easier to work him up.

His hands were pressed flat against the door, arms ready to catch you if you needed to, in the case the pleasure made it hard for your legs to keep you standing. It did not take much longer, some expert faster and harder circles on your clit and you could see the edge of your orgasm.

“Don’t you dare cum on me right now, don’t you fucking dare.” Danny whispered in your ear and bit on your lobe, which he sucked in his mouth as you reluctantly pulled your hand away but you kept jerking him off. “Good girl.”

“Need it!” You whined, and his body moved away from yours, leaving you confused.

“So fucking needy for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, he was satisfied with your response. He waited until you walked closer to him, even if was backing away in direction of the kitchen, you still followed him. When he reached the table, he grabbed both of your hands to bring you closer to him and turn you around so that he was now behind you.

Again, you felt his cock brushing over your skin, to the point you would lose your mind if he did not take you right at this moment.

Luckily for you, Danny was equally impatient and he pressed down on you until all of your front was flushed against the cold surface of the table. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? Deep breath, there you go.” He lined himself up with your entrance, after he was done kicking your feet apart so leave room for him.

And he pushed the tip of his cock inside your pussy. It hurt, you had to bite down on your arm not to scream. Danny knew you loved the pain, the initial sensation of being stretched around his thick cock, but he also knew that it took you by surprise every time.

“It hurts so bad!” You moaned out.

He pulled out and spit on his hand to coat his dick with it and then pushed inside you again. He grunted audibly when you clenched around the tip of his cock and he kept going, pushing in and out and getting more of him inside until you felt more comfortable. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The mocking made you clench again, and that was the moment he decided to fuck you hard and deep, making your body rub against the table.

He could not care less that it did not feel good, he could not care less that you were wiggling around trying to touch him, trying to get him to fuck you faster. All he cared about was the amazing feeling of your pussy. “You’re taking me so well,” you mumbled words he could not understand. “Yeah? I know it feels good. Feels so damn good.”

You tried to move your leg up on the table to give him more room, hoping to get that extra feeling of his balls slapping against your aching clit.

He denied it, spanking both of your ass cheeks at once to get you to stop being so greedy. Then, he stopped, completely.

“Danny, please, please don’t stop, please!” Your begs were useless, they had the opposite of the desired effect.

Danny remained inside you as he leaned forward to wrap his hand around your neck and force you to arch your back, pressing on your ass to make you keep a position that he knew was way more enjoyable for him than you. That was how he liked it.

And that was how you liked it too, when Danny was taking what he wanted, that was when he made you see stars. And this moment was no different when he started to thrust inside you again, fast, deep, at a rhythm even he knew he could not keep up for much longer.

And definitely not when you were so tight around him, your pussy begging to milk him to the last drop. He pulled you up with him, just high enough to let you sneak an arm under your body and reach for your clit again.

“Cum on my cock, baby, make a mess for me.”

And you rubbed, fast and hard, until your eyes rolled backward and your moans got choked out by the pressure Danny added to the sides of your neck. You gathered all the strength you had in you to speak. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming I’m —”

"Fuck you feel so goddamn good.” He kept cursing and grunting, until he stopped moving and let your walls flutter around his cock. “Ready for my cum baby? Yeah, you are. Come on, get ready for me.”

When you regained control of your body, you tried to move quickly and use your shaky legs to get on your knees. You put your hands on his thighs for support and poked your tongue out.

“Open wide for me baby, just like that. Shit!” His cock was coated in you and it took only a few more seconds of him stroking himself for you to feel his load.

You closed your eyes, even though he aimed for your mouth and only some drops missed the target.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He let you finish himself, slowly stroking him until the last drop of cum dripped down from his swollen, red tip and fell on your tongue.

You swallowed him and showed off your clean tongue.

He helped you back up on your feet, not without the two of you struggling. Danny kissed you hard again, so hard, he had missed the feeling of your lips when your face was pressed against the table.

You deepened the kiss, but he pushed you away, just fast enough for him to suck your tongue and finish the kiss by spitting in your mouth again.

The two of you tried to catch your breaths, and you had to hold on to Danny to help him stay up. All the adrenaline of today, of now, had drained him.

“So...” You panted for a few more moments and stood up, facing Danny. Your hand cupped his face, your thumb brushed over his rosy cheek. “What about the flamingo?”

Danny chuckled, trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy another, I was thinking of getting a second one anyway.”

“Oooh, Danny Sharp wants to blow up the budget!”

“Stop it, I was trying to be romantic.” He offered you his hand to hold while you two walked to the bathroom to grab a towel and clean yourself. You remained quiet, letting him talk. “Thought we could have one for each of us. “

After you ran the towel he handed you with lukewarm water to get the remaining of his load off your face, you smiled at him. You gave the washcloth back to him so he cleaned himself too. “Are you asking me on a date?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. Nervous Danny, it was a rare sight, but you sure loved it.

“It’s your rules after all, so you make the decisions around here, babyboy.”

“How about... Our city, our rules.” His eyes locked with yours. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You walked up to him and kissed his swollen lips. “Now that’s what I’d call a gentleman. Keep it up and I’ll be the one in charge for the next mission!”

Suddenly, he wrapped his hand around your forearm and moved even closer to you. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

#jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #danny sharp #danny sharp smut #danny sharp fanfic #danny sharp imagine #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x reader

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poetryinsilence · 2 years

Text

Oceans and Engines (part I)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female!Reader

part I | part II | part III | part IV | part V

A/n: It's October so you know what that means! ✨Whumptober✨ Fluff to Angst fic. This is a love letter; signed, sealed, and undelivered with unsaid things to no one in particular. I wanted to make myself cry because life got me in a chokehold. And what better way to do this than write a fic that takes away -1hp with every word written. This is a full-on SOBFEST, so, enjoy :) I wanna apologize beforehand because there are just so, so many metaphors and ocean-themed and that's on me :')

Summary: So what if you've found the right person; so delicate with love that he could run his fingers lightly on your face and you would burst into flame? But what if he’s also the wrong person, one that doesn’t put up a fight and runs away? Loving Robert Floyd felt so easy, yet hurts so much.

Wc: 2,290

His breath felt heavy in his chest, tightening with each inhale he took and exhaled with a shaky sigh. Hands sweaty as he wipes it away with the fabric of his pant legs and swaps between what's clutched in his hand. He got on one knee in front of a crowd of party people and drunkards at The Hard Deck as his trembling voice asks:

“I love you from the moment you walk into this bar, and I will always and forever love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

The gathered crowd gasps at the scene in front of their eyes; you could hear a pin drop at this moment as they await your answer. You were stunned by this sudden proposal proposed by your boyfriend; eyes gazed into yours with affection and adoration. A few strands of his golden hair curl just above his cerulean blue eyes- hiding behind big gold-rimmed glasses. His boyish grin radiates warmth, but his affection cannot penetrate your heart because you know that you are undeserving of taking his last name and starting your own family with him for the rest of your life. You do not deserve his unconditional love because, to you, he’s not the love of your life.

Minutes seem to slow down at the very moment when your eyes travel to the entrance of The Hard Deck, and there he stands tall and upright, with his wire-framed glasses shaped perfectly on his pretty face, just as you remembered it. He gave you a soft smile and a nod. The light behind his ocean eyes flickered with a twinge of sadness, but he knew it was what he must do.

The swarm of people crowds this beautiful moment; he’s the only one that stands out and captures your attention. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd. He was once your dream. A story of the future that you had, but the pages crisped and torn without knowing what the end truly holds—the one true love that entangles with your soul. And the one that also slipped away.

———

You decided you needed a change of pace from the small town you once grew up in, but now it's just a place blended into one giant shade of monotonous grey. Its cultivation in prime time is long gone and people who remain there either moved away to find a better future for themselves; or are just halfway through death’s door.

That’s when you wanted a clean slate; at the age of 24, to cut out the suffocation and the repetition of your old, stuck-up job. Where else would you rather be other than California? The literal opposite of your childhood town. A place where the heart of the city and its people are, well, alive!

You sat on the beach with that sweltering sun beaming down at you; the grainy sand cradles your feet. You wonder when was the last time you ever felt this feeling of hope and excitement spilling out from your core.

As the hues of the sky entwined with the ocean at the horizon in a sunny shade of orange, the waves draped along the shoreline one moment and pulled back the next, leaving a brief imprint of their existence. Eyes drooped closed as you listened to the crescendo waves ripple in tempo until a sudden searing pain smacked dead across your arm and the backsplash of rough sand splattered across your face.

"Oh God, I-I-I'm so sorry. I-It's my fault! The ball slipped out of my grasp and-and are you alright?" A panic and concern in his trembling voice. You look up to see a black silhouette blocked out by the sun; the shape of his outline appears lanky— hunchback with his shoulders rolled forward.

He crouched down to inspect the damage he had done to your arm. Now in full view, you see his features; eyes wide and filled with blue mimicking the vast ocean, his hair slick back with hair gel or sweat— maybe a mixture of both— along with an old school wire-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of his nose and tightly fitted with a saffron colored shirt. His lips are pursed together as worry has taken over his face.

The pain in your arm no longer matters when you catch sight of his gaze. He softly smiles at you, and without missing a beat like the waves pushing against the shore- everything about him pours right into your world. The warmest blue eyes and that innocent, boyish smile— you drink it in. And he does the same. Take in your deep-set eyes, trailing down to the top of your nose and lingering on your bitten red lips. You felt intoxicated simply from just one look; the butterflies in your stomach threatened to escape and flutter out to the world, embarrassingly exposing yourself.

He opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off by distant shouting. “Got your foot stuck in the sand? What’s taking so long?” A handsome man, flexed with washboard abs and flocks of blondes. He yells out. He’s good-looking, you’ll admit it that much, but his lack of mannerisms took a toll on you. If he wiped that cocky-ass grin and pretentious personality off his overconfident face, maybe you might just tolerate him.

“I-I think she’s injured! I’ll take her to Penny’s. You guys go on ahead!” He swoops up the football and launches it in one full motion. What surprised you was your underestimation of his physique when he swung the football back to his teammates across the beach with a rough estimation of 30 feet apart. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you sure are now.

He turns back with his brows knitted together. “Let’s get that iced before it gets any worse for you.” He helps you up on your feet and offers support on your elbow. When his touch grazes your arm, the heat of his fingertips lingers and sends a shock of warmth down your spine. Goosebumps light their way on your arm, and you hope he hadn’t noticed as he guides you across the beach to a homey-looking bar with ‘The Hard Deck’ inscribed on the front. He pushed his way in and worked around before seating you on the bar stool.

“Seems like you know your way around here.” You broke the silence with curiosity, as he rummaged around behind all the beer taps. You glance around, taking in the sight of this shack; rows of cups decorated and hanging low from the ceiling, and a piano sits isolated on the opposite side of the bar while the jukebox plays a slow, sultry tune in the background.

It's unusually quiet for a bar, with barely any patrons or servers in the early afternoon. You listen loosely to "I’m in the mood for love" and think to yourself about the irony of this situation. Sure, you just met this guy approximately 15 minutes ago. But he's also the first person you’ve actually had a proper conversion (kind of) in the state of California, where you’re a million miles away from where you came from, and yet, there’s something unique and different about him but can’t quite put it on a canvas.

He whips back around with a bag of ice ready in his hands and treats it gently on your already purple bruise. He frowns. “I um, I-I just come here quite often. I don’t drink, but um- the guys outside hang around quite a lot, so I usually just join them.”

He pursed his lips together again, wondering if he had said the right thing. The icy coolness seeps across your injury and follows up your fingertips, but this arctic temperature could not calm the flush spreading along your cheeks.

His posture slumps, leaning on one hip and still hunched— making himself smaller than the space he’s occupied, but correct himself once he sees you observing his every move. You can’t help but chuckle.

“It’s probably rude of me that um- that I haven’t introduced myself.” He sheepishly pushed up his glasses, “I’m Robert, Robert Floyd. But you can call me Bob. That's what everyone calls me anyway. But also, that is kind of my name.” Bob mumbles on, reaching out his hand for you to reciprocate the handshake, but was immediately taken back by him.

“Oh, sorry…I didn’t- that was your injured arm.” He casually collides his palm back and forth with the side of his shorts before reaching out. You gladly accept the gesture and, in turn, unveil your name. His lips softly repeat your own back to you; in slow syllables, causing your heart to skip a beat. Or possibly just stop beating all at once.

“I think that should be my line since you’re the one that’s helping me. Well, cause the damage and then patch me up.” you jest but noticed the colour drained from his face. You shook your head and wanted to tell him you were joking. But he interjects,

"I-I-I am really, really sorry about that. It's unusually clumsy of me and-and—" fingers fiddling in anxiousness, his chest rises. With a heavy sigh, he opens up again. "Can I buy you a drink as-as an apology and to make it up to you?"

Bob swallows, awkwardly looking down at his shuffling feet against the hardwood floor, waiting nervously for your answer. You can almost see the thoughts in his head, screaming out: 'Is she going to reject me? Am I being too straightforward?' as you hold in a giggle.

"Yes, I would like that very much" a beat, "and...apology accepted."

Bob's shoulders relaxed, and his face beamed with relief and delight. He hadn't noticed the breath he held in with his mind fully preoccupied with the thought of your rejection and possibly resentment for his own little football mistake. But he felt grateful it gave him an opportunity to have the courage to talk to you.

He noticed; you sat by the shoreline, mesmerised by the twinkle of ocean waves, attentive to the sound of nature clashing and contemplating. He wondered what you were thinking, what you were feeling. He wanted to peek inside and see. The mellow breeze blew past you, strands of hair caught across your face as you tucked them behind your ear with your delicate finger, and a few locks weaved freely, where he thought they were radiating in the sunlight. His soul was screaming at his feet to come up to you and strike up a conversation, yet in his gut, he knew he wouldn't have the bravery to be able to keep you around. But all it took was one brawny pass from Hangman, and an accidental slip-up sends Bob landing at your feet as the fates have it.

Conversations flow effortlessly between you and Bob. How he was growing up, living off his family’s ranch on the outskirts of Texas, where he helped raise cattle and sheeps with his father. He remembers every Saturday, his mother would make him omelettes with an extra side of buttermilk pancakes and explained that's his favourite. His eyes twinkle with childish joy as he runs through his nostalgia, and you laugh along when he exaggerates the motion of hands, so immersed in his stories that made you wish you had witnessed it too. In return, you shared your side of the story.

Little by little at first; then all at once, you spilt them out. You’ve never met someone that listened to your life story as intently as him before. Most people you’ve met quickly brush you off as sensitive or overreacting, but Bob, he listens. He laughs along with you at the parts that made you happy and frowned at the memories you lived through that made your eyes wet. He understands how lonely you felt, living in a repeated cycle, but you’ve always looked on the brighter side of life. A life that’s filled with nothing but love, and he hoped that he could be a part of it someday.

Aviators started to roll into The Hard Deck, and that’s when you both knew it was your cue to leave. Bob insisted on walking you home, but you politely declined and reassured him you lived close by. That it’s perfectly safe to walk home while the sun is still up. Before he leaves, he turns and blinks at you, debating something inside his head but decides to ask anyway.

“C-can I see you again? I hope this isn’t too much, but I want to um- talk to you again. I uh- Oh, I work nearby- I-I’m a naval officer, like one of those aviators, well, a lieutenant. Actually, a weapon system officer, w-which is-“ he sealed his lips together to stop himself from babbling on any further embarrassment. But you find his reaction rather cute.

“I knew you were special,” you whispered inaudibly to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing…Um, of course! I’d love to meet you again.” You flashed a toothy smile in response.

Bob instantly melts into your grin, and the word ‘love’ echoes inside his head. He never had anyone use the word ‘love’ to him before, not in a genuine way. He heard his teammates use it in the context of things like 'Hangman loves the feeling of the need for speed' or 'Rooster loves to beat the shit out of Hangman when he steps out of line.' All of these were in the context of things. But hearing in your silky voice, it’s something he never learned until now. That the word ‘love’ has such a powerful feeling— this intense warmth he never wants to let go of and one he can��t bear to lose.

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fic #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #fanfic #fanfiction #⭐️.doc

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