#that Venom's got big bright very white beautiful eyes

[mamulgogi]

[avintagekiss24]

CALIFORNIA KING || CHUBBY!BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Chubby!Sheriff!Bucky Barnes x black!reader || word count: 6,429 || warnings: smut, sex, vaginal fingering, hand job, bad language words

authors note: here we are! chubs is finally here! we’re set back in Virginia in the 60s in this one, but we’re not acknowledging the bullshit of the time period. i write to get away from real world issues, and i like the clothes in this decade. you will also notice a few characters from a certain show called Lovecraft Country, because, well, I like them a lot too. please enjoy.

line divider by, you guessed it, @firefly-graphics​ (they’re all so pretty)

Virginia, 1964

Your heels click along the pavement as you move towards the small diner in the middle of town. The sun is high and hot, the beams beating down on your bare shoulders as you adjust your yellow rimmed sunglasses over your face. Your white purse swings off the tips of your fingers, your bracelet, a present from Bucky, clinking softly against your watch, (another present from Bucky), as you move with confidence.

Your sister Ruby moves quietly behind you, her eyes out in front, scanning the sidewalk and street as the two of you go, “You shouldn’t come out dressed like that.” She huffs in your direction as she catches the eye of two older white women moving in your direction.

You turn your head towards her and then glance at the women walking past you, their eyes dropping down to your slightly exposed midriff, then your high waisted, navy blue shorts. You push your sunglasses down your nose and maintain eye contact with them as the two women move by.

“I’m not worried about these small town hicks.” You answer loudly, turning around to walk backward so you can keep your eyes on them, “I am free to dress how I please, thank you.”

Ruby shakes her head as she laughs sarcastically, “You never did know how to act.”

“It is 1964. They just need to get the fuck over it - we are here. This is just as much our town as it is theirs.” You spit, tossing your short hair slightly, “Plus, not everybody here is like them.”

Ruby closes her eyes and holds up her hands, completely uninterested in what you’re about to say, “You are playing with fire with that sheriff,” she hisses quietly, “And I don’t want to hear about it.”

You shrug defiantly, “Fine, then don’t. Let’s just get our rootbeer floats and not argue for once, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.”

“Wonderful.” You seethe, flicking your wrist towards her, ending the quick squabble. You grab the door handle and pull open the door to the diner, stepping to the side to allow your sister to pass, “After you.”

Ruby cuts her eyes towards you and smirks unenthusiastically before she crosses through the threshold. You roll your eyes and follow in behind her, removing your sunglasses and shoving them in your purse as you follow her to the front counter. The two of you sit side by side, Ruby smoothing her hands over her green, pleated swing dress, you waving down the young waiter.

“Afternoon ladies, it’s a hot one, huh?” he asks nicely, smiling at the two of you as he slides menus in your direction.

“It is, thank you,” you start, glancing over the menu, “I think I’m going to have a burger and fries, with a rootbeer float.”

“Great choice, and you, Ruby?”

She smiles, handing her menu back to him, “An olive loaf sandwich please. Potato chips, and a rootbeer float as well.”

“I’ll have it right up ladies.”

He disappears into the back and you and Ruby fall into your usual rhythm, practically ignoring each other. The front door chimes as a group of women move inside, their giggles filling the relatively quiet diner. You eye them as they move by, catching the glance of one Dottie Bodecker, your arch nemesis since grade school. Her blonde hair swings back and forth behind her head as she smiles at you, wiggling her manicured fingers as her group moves to the end of the long bar, taking up four seats.

“So Dottie,” you hear one of the brunettes start, “Do you think tonight’s the night? You think Sheriff Barnes is going to ask you to go with him to his re-election fundraiser?”

You flick your eyes towards them, drawing in a deep breath at the sound of his name. Dottie turns her head towards you, her blue eyes linking with yours where she smiles quickly before turning back to her friends, “I think so.” She answers cheerfully, another giggle escaping her lips, “We have been getting so close lately. I really think he’s gonna ask me to start going steady.”

You scoff loudly before laughter falls from your lips. Ruby hits your leg underneath the counter as you pull out a cigarette and place it between your lips, lighting it. You feel their eyes on you as you flick the butt of the cigarette, ridding it of the ash that’s built up and take another slow drag. You keep your eyes forward, not wanting to engage because you know if you engage -

“Here we go ladies,” the waiter says, cutting through your thoughts, “A burger and fries, an olive loaf with potato chips, and two rootbeer floats. Enjoy.”

Heat blooms across your skin as anger starts to brim just below the surface. You and Dottie have had the same common goal for almost six months - Sheriff James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. The anger in you makes you start to wonder why the two of you are warring over him in the first place. He’s ten years older than the both of you, has a nasty divorce behind him, and by the sight of his tummy, he’s enjoyed one too many slices of Ambrosia cake. To you and Dottie though, he might as well be Marlon Brando.

It’s the way his eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles. The way his nose scrunches when he smiles really big. It’s the softness in his voice when he says your name. The shyness that controls him whenever he’s come to bring you a flower. It’s the way he’s a dreamer - how he promises you a little house out in the middle of nowhere, complete with a white picket fence and a golden retriever. A couple of kids. A big old bed where he promises to always keep you pleased.

He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen - the softest and the sweetest too.

“Just relax and eat your food.” Ruby whispers, squeezing your knee, “She’s just trying to get your goat.”

You flick the butt of your cigarette again, “Well, she fucking got it.” You sigh, grabbing a french fry and biting it angrily.

Dottie continues to gab to her friends loudly, Bucky and I this, Bucky and I that - deep down you know it’s bullshit. He spends too much time sniffing around you to give her the type of attention she’s trying to convince her friends of, but it still gets under your skin. You eat slowly, your lips pursed, your eyes staring a hole into the wall in front of you, your hearing absolutely piqued.

“Did I tell you he drove me home from work the other day?” Dottie says, running her hand over her ponytail as her lips curl into another smile behind her red painted lips, “He even stayed for dinner.”

“Well, your meatloaf is to die for, Dottie. He would have been crazy not to stay!”

You cut your eyes over towards them again just as Dottie leans into her friends, glancing around to see if anyone is listening (as if she honestly cares), “Did I also mention that he stayed the night?”

You slam your balled fist onto the counter, rattling the plates and cups and silverware that sit on the bar. All four heads of Dottie’s group snap towards you, Ruby’s eyes going wide as her mouth drops open.

“Is everything okay, hun?” Dottie asks sweetly, venom dripping from every word.

You lift your hand and plaster a fake smile on your face, scrunching your nose as you shrug, “I’m quite alright, Dottie. Just um, dropped my fork is all.”

“Oh,” she laughs a little, placing her gloved hand to her chest, “That must be a heavy fork.”

“Not as heavy as my fist will be against your -”

“We’re fine,” Ruby cuts in, a bright smile on her face as she nods towards Dottie, “Thank you for askin’, Dottie.”

Dottie smiles again as she tips her head towards Ruby, “You are very welcome, Miss Ruby.”

“Fake ass bitch.” You growl under your breath, prompting a hard pinch on your thigh,”Ow!”

“Just,” Ruby starts, widening her eyes at you, “Eat. Your. Food.”

You take another angry bite of your french fry and cut your eyes towards the glass door, staring out onto the street as you flick your cigarette again. Sheriff James Buchanan Barnes has no idea what he’s just gotten himself into.

-----

You sway your hips back and forth as your hair falls into your face. The music is loud, thumping even, as Ruby and her band plays up on the stage. An arm is thrown around your waist, pulling your closer as the two of you dance - chest to back, hips tucked into your behind. You laugh as you throw your arm around his neck and dip down low, a wider smile breaking onto your face as he moves with you.

The two of you push back up where you spin around to face him, grabbing the hem of your dress and pulling it up on your thighs as you continue to shake your hips. You throw the material of your expensive, new dress, and then swish it around, before you drop it to raise your hands in the air and spin back around.

That’s when you see them.

Those eyes.

Those deep set, deep blue orbs that always seem to find you when in the middle of a crowd. His lips are set in a hard line, his cheeks red, his jaw tight. He sucks his teeth as he leans his elbow on the bar. He blinks, slowly, cutting his eyes towards the bartender just long enough to grab the shot that’s handed to him before they are back on you, watching you grind against the stranger behind you.

Too damn bad for him.

You grab the man’s hand and pull it tighter around your waist, keeping your smaller hand on top of his as you dip slowly down to the floor again - your eyes never leaving the sheriff’s. You break the eye contact with him to glance over your shoulder as a devilish smile curls onto your painted lips as the two of you dance, your lips dangerously close to his. You push your behind into his hips and laugh when the man hoots and hollers before clapping his hands to the beat of the music.

You flick your eyes back to the sheriff’s just as he downs the brown liquid in the small glass in his hands and slams it on the counter, immediately asking for another. You smirk and wink at him before you turn in the man’s hands that are currently around your waist and away from the hard, angry eyes bearing into you.

“Boo!”

You spin to the side when a finger presses into your side and shriek when you come face to face with your little sister, “Leti!” You shout, wrapping your arms around her neck and swaying her back and forth, “I thought y’all said you wouldn’t be back from Chicago until next week! Tic! Come here!”

You release her to throw your arms around Leti’s boyfriend, Atticus Freeman’s neck, having to stand on your tiptoes to hug him tightly as he chuckles in your ear, “We just decided to cut it short, that’s all.” He answers.

“Yeah, right,” you smile, slapping him gently on his shoulder, “You two got into some trouble up there, didn’t you?”

“Never!” Leti exclaims as she smiles mischievously, holding up her hand, “And that’s scouts honor. Listen,” she says, glancing over her shoulder back towards the bar, “I’ve heard from a few people already. They’re saying that the sheriff is asking about you at the bar.”

“Well,” You wave her off, “You can tell them to tell him to mind his goddamn business.”

“Girl, you’ve got that man seething over there!” Tic laughs, “Askin’ how you know this fool,” he says, pointing towards your dancing partner, “What his name is, when he got into town, how long you been here tonight…”

You shrug defiantly, batting your eyes at the pair of people in front of you, “Not my problem.”

“You’ve got your nerve!” Leti laughs, “Who in their right mind antagonizes the goddamn sheriff?”

“The very same one who dates the goddamn sheriff.” Tic says, shaking his head, “Y’all’s mama gave y’all balls of steel.”

Leti rolls her eyes but smiles widely, grabbing your wrists and pulling you deeper into the mass of people. The three of you dance the hours away as Ruby keeps the small club rocking. You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, out of cigarettes, and slightly tipsy when Tic wants to get you and Leti home, so you relent without a fight.

You push out into the night air, the breeze instantly cooling your balmy skin. You giggle as Leti mumbles in your ear and take a few steps into the alley before you stop dead in your tracks. Sheriff Bucky leans against the brick building, his head turned towards the street but snapping back to you when he hears your familiar laughter. He pushes away from the wall and places his hands on his hips and utility belt where he taps his nervous, angry fingers.

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, pushing it out of his nostrils harshly as he turns his head towards the building again, trying and failing to maintain a calm demeanor, “Tic, I wasn’t um, I wasn’t aware you were back in town. Welcome home, soldier.”

Tic shifts his eyes to you before he nods towards Bucky and takes his extended hand, “Thank you sheriff, that’s uh, that’s mighty kind of you.”

“You’re a brave man, fighting for this country. You let me know if anybody gives you any trouble, you hear? Ms. Lewis, how are you this evening?”

“Mighty fine, sheriff. Thanks for askin’.” Leti answers, offering him a soft smile. She knows what it’s like to be on the ass end of one of your fits.

You stare at him as he nods slowly, clearing his throat again before he shifts his eyes back to you. You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head as you blink at him slowly and let out a hard breath. He drops his eyes down your body, then snaps them back up to yours, his lip slightly snarled the entire time.

He points at you quickly, before he drops his hand back to his belt and glances back at the building, “May I speak to you, please?” he asks, clearing his throat again.

“What for?”

He chuckles lightly, widening his eyes as he drops them to your feet, “You know what for.” he snaps, still tapping his fingers against his hips, “Please.”

You glance at Leti and Tic, whose eyes have settled on you after the quick tennis match between you and Bucky. You sigh again, “I’ll meet you guys at home, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Leti whispers, pushing up closer to you, “He looks mad.”

You roll your eyes, “I can handle him. I’ll be fine.”

Leti grabs Tic’s hand and moves past Bucky, “Have a good night, sheriff.”

“You as well, Ms. Lewis.” He glances over his shoulder as Tic and Leti move down the alley, and only turns back to face you once they’ve turned the corner, “You stood me up.” He spits angrily, pointing at you again.

You shrug, indifference written on your face, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean!” he hisses, taking a few steps towards you, “Damn it, I waited forty five minutes for you.”

“You get out of my face.” you scoff, pushing his shoulders roughly.

“So I spend all day worrying about you, only to find you here with some jerk’s hands all over you!”

You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Spent all day worrying about me, did you? That’s rich.”

“Okay,” he barks, nodding quickly as he chews on the inside of his cheek, “What is it? Huh? What did I do now?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t know! Please! Enlighten me.”

You cross your arms over your chest again, staring down the alley. You feel his eyes staring into the side of your face, waiting for you to speak.

“Answer me, damn it!”

“Why don’t you ask Dottie Bodecker what you did wrong?” you hiss, snapping your head back to face him.

His face contorts in confusion, his shoulders slumping slightly, “Dottie Bodecker? The fuck she have to do with anything?”

“Her meatloaf is to die for, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up dramatically, turning and taking a few steps away from you. He spins back around seconds later, shaking his head, “If you don’t start saying what you mean, girl!”

“You slept with Dottie Bodecker a few nights back and I’m done letting you make a fool a’ me!” you scream as your eyes squint hard.

You brush past him, bumping his shoulder as you start down the alley, walking fast as you huff, the anger bubbling. You hear his heavy feet behind you, his keys jingling as he wraps his fingers around your bicep. You shrug away from him and whirl around, pointing your thin finger in his face, “Don’t you touch me.”

“I did not sleep with Dottie Bodecker!” He hisses, “Where are you getting that load of shit from?”

“From Dottie herself. She told the entire diner this afternoon!”

“Well she’s full of it!” He shouts back, “I didn’t touch that woman!”

“But you drove her home from work?” You ask, antagonizing him, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms over your chest.

He scoffs, placing his hands on his hips again, “Yes. I drove her home. She flagged me down -” You start walking again, completely uninterested in hearing his sorry ass story, “Goddamn it. Listen to me!” He shouts, grabbing your arm again, “I did not touch that woman. I have never touched her. I promise you.”

“And why should I believe you? Huh?” You ask, breathing hard, your eyes wide and bouncing between his, “Tell me!”

“Because I love you!” He shouts loudly - so loudly that it makes you slam your mouth shut, “Goddamn it!”

You watch as he starts to pace, dragging his hand through his short, dark hair angrily before he drops it to his side. Because I love you! The words bounce around your brain as he places his hands back on his hips.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

That’s the first time he’s said it.

He loves you.

“You know what?” he says after a moment, turning back to face you again, “You want to continue to play games with Dottie, you go right ahead, but you leave me out of it. I have been nothing but good to you, nothing but open, nothing but doting… I’m done, you hear me? Done. Keep playin’ your little goddamn games!”

You click your tongue and roll your eyes again as he walks off, tugging at the leather jacket covering his torso. He can barely zip the damn thing. You sigh and tilt your head as he turns around the front of the building as embarrassment starts to flood through you. Your skin heats up again, but this time from the feeling of turning out to be the asshole, which doesn't happen very often (it probably should.)

The sound of your heels clicking against the concrete bounces off the buildings as you move to the end of the alley, peaking around the corner to find his police car still sitting at the curb. You spot his head resting back on the seat and put your hands behind your back as you walk slowly towards the passenger side. You lean over and glance in the window, finding his eyes closed and his hands on the wheel as he breathes in and out, in and out, in and out.

You glance up and down the street before you knock on the window, “Can I get in?”

“No.”

You click your tongue and let your shoulders slump, “Come on, sheriff.”

You watch as he exhales hard and you have to drop your head so that he can’t see the smile that forms on your lips. He reaches over and pops open the door before he straightens up in the seat, keeping his eyes forward as you slide in next to him. You chew on your lip as you blink over at him, your eyes trailing down his bicep and forearm before you start playing with your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly, your voice small and slightly playful.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He answers quick, holding up his hand.

You laugh a little but cover your mouth quickly with your thin fingers as he cuts his eyes towards you. He huffs again and you start to whine, closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the roof, “Sheriff, look at me.”

“No.”

“Come on,” You laugh, “I said I was sorry.”

“And that’s just supposed to make this all better? Right? Just because you said you’re sorry?” he asks softly, turning to face you.

You shrug, dropping your eyes to your fingers again, “Yeah?”

He laughs earnestly at your sheer audacity. You smile, biting down into your bottom lip as you send your eyes toward him, your smile softening at the sight of him. The crinkles are back. His nose is scrunched, his eyes turned into slits as he laughs. You glance down between the two of you and see a bouquet of flowers on the floorboard.

His laughter dies down and he shakes his head as he lets out a sigh, “You are such a stubborn ass.”

“But that’s why you like me, right?”

He looks over at you, his eyes moving around your face, “Maybe.” He answers softly.

You grab his hand and place it in your lap, your thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles. You blink at each other, all of the anger and agitation bleeding out of you both like it wasn’t even there to begin with. He squeezes your hand and rubs the tips of your fingers with his thumb before he leans over to kiss you softly.

You moan, your eyes closing instinctively as his pillow soft lips hit yours for the first time that day. Relief and calm washes through you as he massages your lips with his and loops his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You're soon pressed up against his wide chest and body, your hands sliding over his shoulders and to his back. You hug him tightly to you as the intensity builds quickly, his stomach pushing over his belt and pressing into yours. You hum as his thick fingers skip up your thigh, palming your flesh softly.

His lips fall to your neck, his head nudging yours upward to gain full access to your sensitive skin. He sucks lightly, making you tense and moan as a jolt of sensation shoots straight to your sex. You grip his shoulder softly as that wandering hand moves further up your thigh - right into your dress, where his fingertips brush against your warm, tingly sex.

“Sheriff,” You breathe, spreading your legs and pushing your hips forward as you rub his shoulder.

“Yes ma’am?” He answers, his voice low and heady.

“Take me home and take advantage of me, please.”

His chuckle vibrates through your flesh. He nips at your neck, his teeth dragging along your skin, “As much as I’d love to darlin’, I’m on duty.” You groan in dissatisfaction, making him laugh again, “You shouldn’t have blown me off earlier, I could have taken care of you then.”

He pushes your panties to the side and brushes his fingers over your soft skin, where you shiver instantly. He pulls back so that he can watch your face as he pushes between your folds, stroking your slit gently, teasing you with just the tips of his fingers. You hiss and squeeze your legs together, jutting your hips forward to try and coax him inside.

He doesn’t take the bait.

But he wants to.

He glances over his shoulder behind the car and then out in front, finding the streets bare. He can hear the muffled sounds of Ruby’s band still going strong inside the small club. There’s been no calls over the radio in over an hour. He’s got time. He kisses your mouth quickly and pulls his hand from out of your dress to turn the key, bringing the loud engine to life, filling the silent night air with noise.

You push up onto your knees as he pulls away from the curb and throw your arms around his neck, your tongue sneaking out to lick just under his ear. You smile when you feel him shiver from the contact. You plant kisses on the side of his face and along his jaw before you blow softly into his ear, making him jump in his seat. You grab his earlobe with your teeth and pull softly as you drag your hand down his chest and over his soft stomach where you start to fumble with his belt.

The car speeds up suddenly as he jams his foot on the accelerator when your hand slithers into his pants. You laugh when expletives fall from his lips, the car swerving as he struggles to keep his eyes open and on the road in front of you. Pumping him slowly, you grab your bottom lip between your teeth again and rest your forehead against his temple. You breathe heavily into his ear, humming and moaning as you stroke him quickly, your thumb brushing over his sensitive tip.

Bucky weaves you through the empty town and finally pulls up behind the police station, blending in with the small fleet of exactly two other police cars. He loops his arm around your waist again, pulling you closer - sitting you down on the seat. He grabs your calves and throws them over his thighs and rucks your dress up around your waist. He slips his fingers underneath the band of your panties and pulls roughly, slipping them right down your legs and over your heels to throw them into the backseat.

You squeak when his thick digits push into you, his thumb flattening against your clit. He starts to pump, slow and deep, his blue eyes scanning your face as he drags in air through his open mouth. You roll your hips into his hand as he strokes your walls and teases your clit, you hooking your arm around his neck. You sit up straighter and push your chest into his side, keeping one leg thrown over his thigh, and placing the other on the floorboard - leaving you spread open.

He kisses you quickly, moaning and then hissing as your hand continues to push along his shaft. He brushes his nose against yours, his warm breath washing over your face as you nuzzle right back into him, your mouth falling open as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“God, sheriff,” You rasp, your hand halting as he strokes your insides.

“What was that, darlin’?” He whispers, his words full but languid, “What’s my name, sweetheart?”

You tense, pushing your body up the back of the seat as you squeak again, his fingers pushing deeper and harder. You buck your hips into his hand, throwing your head back, your hair tickling the exposed skin of your back, “Oh, sheriff.” you pant.

“That’s right, you sweet little thing,” He coos, “You fuck my fingers, sweetheart.”

You hum before licking your lips slowly, “I want more than your fingers, sheriff,” you say, your words rushed and hot. You lean forward and kiss him hard, placing your hands on either side of his full face, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks.

You pull away after only a few seconds, dragging in ragged breaths, your chest heaving hard. Reaching behind your back, you pull on the zipper of your dress, the material falling away from your body - leaving you naked.

Bucky inhales sharply.

You lay back on the seat, wrapping your legs around his waist as he twists and leans over you. He reaches out and places his hand in the center of your chest, right between your breasts and just leaves it there for a second as he blinks. You arch your back, rolling your shoulders and head when he sweeps his fingers down your sternum, stopping at your belly button. You grab his hand and bring it to your right breast, cupping your supple flesh as you force your back away from the seat again and suck the tip of his index finger into your mouth.

He pulls his hand away reluctantly - but keeps his eyes on you as he shrugs out of his leather jacket. He blinks slowly, pulling his eyes down your smooth, brown skin as his fingers work out the knot of his tie. He loosens it quickly and pulls off the thin clip before he yanks the tie over his head and discards it to the floor. He flattens his palm on the inside of your thigh and pushes it down to your sex, massaging you again as his free hand pops the buttons of his shirt.

Your mouth drops open as you purr at the sensations rippling through you as he touches you, his fingers soft and slow, “Bucky,” you keen.

He hears the desperation - the ache - the trembling need in your voice. He wants to satisfy it. All of it. All of you. He pushes his pants low on his hips, down to his knees before he adjusts his position between your legs, leaning over you further. You grip his sides as his stomach rests against yours, his cock pushing at your entrance.

His eyes wander again, away from your face and down your virtuous body, knowing he and he alone has been the only man to boast its yield, “You’re beautiful.” The words slip off his tongue like silk. He means it.

“You’re beautiful.” You return quickly, running your hands down his soft, wide chest.

You know he doesn’t believe it when you say it. Out loud, in this vulnerable position. All of him on display. Every little roll and crevasse for you to see - he isn’t Tic. He isn’t six foot something, with cannons for arms and a washboard stomach. He’s just a man, a simple man, in love with a beautiful, bold, mischievous woman.

You dig your fingers into his flesh as he enters you, spreading you. You thrust your chest towards his as you slam your eyes closed, gasping at the fullness - the completeness - you feel. Your body starts to lunge upward, your breasts pushing with the movement. His weight leaves you as he sits back on his knees, his hips still prodding as he draws your leg up onto his chest and shoulder, dropping kisses on your ankle.

There’s fingers around your throat, squeezing gently before they venture up your chin and into your mouth. You accept them willingly as he flattens his free hand to your chest again. You stretch your arm forward, slinking your thin digits up his arm to his bicep as his hips push, push, push into yours. Soft. Deliberate. Slow. Ravishing you in the only way you know - the only way you want.  

The pressure builds in your stomach, steady and purposed. He knows it - he knows you. So, he grabs your hips, pulls them closer, your legs falling over his thighs, your feet sliding along the old leather seat as he fucks you. He leans over you again, knowing you like his weight on you. He digs his hips into yours - his cock plunging into your soft, accepting cunt as he watches you. Mouth hanging. Lips red. Breath heavy.

It’s a rhythm. An intricate dance the two of you have perfected over time. Pushing and pulling. Giving and taking. The windows are foggy with the heat your bodies have created - your skin damp; balmy. Little droplets of sweat beading between your breasts. His tongue is quick to rid you of them, the droplets, pushing out from behind his lips to lap at your skin. He’d do anything to please you.

Fingers tweak your thick nipples. Rough palms grip your hips. Deep groans, low hisses fill your ears. Soft words, pretty designations falling from his lips. Affirmations of love.

“I love you,” you pant, your words shuddering with each breath, “Bucky, I-”

“I know it, doll. I know it.”

You choke suddenly as the fire spreads without warning. Your orgasm rushes through you, burning a familiar path through your wilderness. Bucky fucks harder as you come - the sound of his skin slapping against yours growing louder, his grip on your hips harder.

He loves to hear you. Crying, screeching, mewling, howling as his body peels you apart, layer by layer. He loves to watch you - shuddering and trembling, hips jerking, toes curling. It’s all he needs, all he wants. He wraps his fingers loosely around your throat again and lets himself go, strained grunts accompanying your ungodly sounds as he starts to spurt over and over.

You flatten your feet against the seat and push your hips upward - still gasping, still jerking uncontrolled as the synapses continue to fire. The additional warmth he provides as he spills into you electrifies you. No other man will know the depths of you, will fill you with his seed. You’re ruined - and you like it that way.

He collapses on top of you when he can’t hold himself up any longer. Soft skin against soft skin. You instantly corral him in your arms, pushing your dainty fingers into his soft, brown hair as he nuzzles into your neck. Breath still hard and hot. You're sticky and he’s sticky, a satisfied haze drifting into your eyes and brain, lulling you.

He pulls you up with him seconds later, his eyes darting around the empty, quiet parking lot, glancing out the back before he scans through the windshield. He pulls his pants back up over his hips and reaches into the backseat to grab the blanket he keeps stowed away, wrapping it around you. He pulls you close, slinking that long arm around your shoulder and pushing his nose against yours as a lazy smile covers his face.

You hum happily as you rest your hand on his stomach, rubbing his full tummy softly with your finger tips, “Tell me about that big ol’ bed again,” you whisper, nuzzling into his face and nose with yours.

“Mmm,” he hums, smiling softly, “It’s called a California King. They make ‘em for all those stars out there in Hollywood.” You giggle, and his smile broadens, “I’m gonna get you one of those beds, I promise you.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I do. Although,”

“Although, what?”

“I don’t want you drivin’ Dottie anywhere anymore.”

He chuckles. The tips of his fingers brush over your naked shoulder and then dance down your arm, “She just wants what she can’t have. She’s jealous a’ you.”

“I know it.”

“Then don’t pay her no mind, girl. I mean it.” A silence drops over the two of you for a few minutes before he says, “I won’t drive her anywhere without tellin’ you. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m sorry.”

You smile as you rest your head against his, letting your eyes close as sleep starts to pull you in. You feel him grab your fingers, pulling them away from his body as he starts to fumble around, slipping his arms back into his uniform. Once he’s dressed, you fall back into him. He wraps his arm around your neck. You place your hand back on his soft, round stomach. He rolls down the window, allowing the warm breeze to caress your skin. Nights like this are the best. You don’t know how you could be so stupid. You know he loves you.

You’ve always known.

“I’ma get you that little house over there on Pleasant drive, you know it?” he asks, daydreaming again, “We’ll get married -” You scoff, “What?”

“Married?” You ask skeptically, rolling your head on his shoulder as you keep your eyes closed.

“Yes. Married.”

“How are you going to be the law in this town if you’re steady breaking it?”

He chuckles, “You don’t listen to the news?”

“No,” You say softly, squeezing him tighter as you let out a breath, “Too depressin’.”

“Well,” He starts, dropping kisses to the top of your head, “Richard and Mildred Loving are fighting hard for people like you and me.” You open your eyes and blink slowly, watching as the wind plays the branches of the trees across the street as he continues, “They’ll overturn those bullshit laws - just you watch. I’ll marry you the very next day, right here in the middle of town.”

“You think?”

“I think, what?”

“They’ll overturn ‘em?”

“They have to. The world’s too big for that small minded, backwoods bullshit now.”

“And then you’ll buy me that house over there on Pleasant Drive?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And then get me one of those big old beds, what you call it?”

“A California King.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sure will.”

“And then?”

He takes a breath before he sweeps his nose along yours again, brushing the tips together, “And then we’ll be together until we grow old and grey. I’ll probably be four hundred pounds by then, but.”

He chuckles as you pinch him, making him squirm from the sharp pain, “Stop it.” You warn.

“Look at me now! I’m well on my way.”

“I like you just how you are.” You say simply.

“I suppose you do.”

“I do.”

You barely have to push in to grab his lips as the two of you are already so close. You moan softly when they meet. That arm around your neck tightens, keeping you close - oh so close. You don’t tell him right away, but you like those daydreams of his. The house on Pleasant Drive, the big old bed, the wedding in the middle of town. You dream about them every night and wake up with them every morning. You don’t ever tell him though, because you’re the practical one. He’s the dreamer - and you like it that way.

You still don’t even tell him on the day he makes them all come true. How much you like those dreams of his.

[unethical-gender]

For context, I wanted it to be that the start of every chapter would be George and Dream talking in prison and eventually it would be just one big chapter of every chapter starter plus more and then george leaves the prison but I never got that far so. Enjoy👍

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

"Why are you really here?"

George barely registered the question. He was still drowsy, the events of the day failing to sufficiently wake him. He didn't even look up to acknowledge Dream; he knew exactly where he was, sat a few feet away, slumped against the wall, dressed in torn, faded, and burned orange fabric that marked him prison property. It was a comfort to George, but also made him sick to look at.

"I told you why I'm here," George finally replied, voice as tired as he was and barely heard over the roar and crackling of the molten lava feet away, burning his skin. It was a familiar feeling at this point, nearly comforting, reminding him of the times that prisons didn't exist here, times when the only worry was temporary pain.

"I don't believe that you just suddenly want to see me," Dream said, the audible frown in his voice hurting George more than he expected. "You don't love me anymore. Why are you here?" 

"I still-" George started, voice caught in his throat. He forced himself to look up, to meet Dream's gaze, unfamiliarly unobstructed. His grey-green eyes shone wet in the orange light. George sighed.

"I still love you, Dream. I can't just stop loving you. That doesn't mean I like the person you've become."

Dream scoffed, breaking eye contact and instead gazing at his few belongings next to him. "The person I've become?" He almost laughed. "George, I've always been like this. You just chose not to see it."

George tightened his grip on nothing, un-cut nails digging into his palms until his joints ached from the pressure. He let his hands go slack by his sides.

"You're lying," George said meekly, trying to lace his words with a confidence he couldn't muster. Dream cocked his head, smirking with venom that George used to feel protected by. Venom that usually wasn't for him; now it was. Dream scooted closer, George forced in place by the deadly heat behind him. Now Dream was only a foot away, so close that George could smell him. He didn't smell very nice, dirt and sweat replacing his usual scent of wood and smoke.

"I'm lying?" Dream asked. "Since when do I lie to you?" George swallowed, words forming and passing through his lips before he could think.

"He said you weren't supposed to be like this," George's voice leaked the kind of anger only found in a deep love, the kind of anger that burns white hot because your heart has been broken. Dream's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. Almost instantly he was staring into George's soul and searching for an answer.

"Who's he, George?"

✳✳✳

George stretched, a newfound liveliness in his limbs. He could wander for hours without tiring, he felt. He brushed a hand through his hair, dried stems and grass falling out, he had been lying on the ground. He temporarily removed his glasses to quickly rub his eyes of all remaining sleep, keeping them shut tight until he replaced them. Bright, eternally summer days made his head ache without the dark filter of his sunglasses.

He quickly rose, searching for something to do. Conflict quickly rose around him every day, and he only wished to live like he did before there were worries and wars and death. He just wanted to run through fields and forests, to inhale moist, woodsy air and sleep in shady mushroom patches. So, he decided that's what he would do.

He walked until he fell under the shade of a forest (a natural one, not one that had been planted by someone), embracing the sweet and heavy air. He hadn't taken time to enjoy himself like this in a while. He walked until the trees were so thick he was nearly blind. He removed his sunglasses, face light from the lack of plastic. He still squinted, light occasionally squeezing through gaps in the thick oak branches.

He sat, leaned against a tree, and brushed his hands over the ground. He looked at the thick carpet of moss, the rotting, broken logs nearby, the red and white spotted mushrooms that grew around him. He felt at peace, like nothing and no one could find him or hurt him here. It was a pleasant distraction from his normally prison-themed thoughts. He decided he needed to do this more often.

He wasn't tired at all, he even felt energized, but the thick air was like a blanket urging him to melt into the tree and the moss and close his eyes once more. Who was he to deny the forests whims, to resist letting his eyes rest for a moment and let his other senses take over?

The forest air, of course, had a different plan, filling his lungs like a drug and quickly luring him into an undesired sleep amongst the thick flora. The forest almost seemed to want to claim him as it's own. It wouldn't be the first to try.

His awakening was rude, sudden golden light flooding in and burning his retinas through his shut eyelids. He quickly covered his eyes, head already threatening to burst. He groaned. Why was there suddenly a light source in the once blackened forest?

"Hello there."

A voice suddenly made George jump. The voice was familiar in a way that made his stomach turn and his heart drop. It was a voice he knew was impossible to be hearing.

"Dream?" He asked, hoping to be wrong. There wasn't a reply for a moment, swaying trees and distant water filling the silence.

"Is something wrong with your eyes?" The voice asked. George swore it echoed, but that must have been a trick of his aching brain, surely.

"Yes, you know that there is just- where are my glasses?" George groaned, reaching one hand around to feel blindly at the surrounding ground. Dream's possible escape from prison was second to him in his list of priorities, regaining vision being a clear winner for first place.

Suddenly, cool plastic tapped the hand covering George's eyes, making him jump. He quickly grabbed them and put them on, opening his eyes slowly to adjust and looking forward, expecting to see a disheveled Dream standing before him. The sight there, however, made him jump and try to slide backwards, a small yelp escaping him.

That wasn't Dream.

Instead of Dream as George had predicted stood, no, floated, what looked like an older version of Dream, if George had to guess. He domineered in size, twice the size of a human proportionally, large gold rings floating and crossed in an x surrounding his torso, spinning slowly. His face was obstructed by a nearly familiar mask, a large "XD" replacing the usual smile. George knew who this was, of course. Anyone did. He just never thought he would ever be face to face with DreamXD, with God, in any of his lifetimes.

He wore little clothing, a skirt-like wrap around his waist, emerald green and falling to his knees. He wore a hooded cape, a matching green, buckled at his bare chest with an eye of ender, or at least a replica of one. He stared menacingly down at George, curiosity visible on the lower, uncovered half of his face.

"DreamXD?" George asked, half hoping his eyes were deceiving him, that this was some headache fueled delusion. XD cocked his head, an action George found familiar to Dream.

"Yes. That's me." He replied, voice echoing by itself and eerily similar to Dream's. George was still stunned, hands gripping at the forest floor.

"What is wrong with your eyes?" XD asked, drifting forward and leaning down a bit. George couldn't back up, forced against the tree, so he sat still and stiff, contemplating how to answer.

"I, uh, don't know exactly," George started. "Its just they're super sensitive to light. I need the sunglasses to see." He gestured to the obvious glasses on his face. XD looked curious at every word George said.

"So if its dark you can take them off?" He asked. George nodded slowly, somewhat worried about what XD would do. XD was moving his hands, George watching as he waved through air with a determination George couldn't understand. When his hands stopped he held them out, an item materializing in his hands.

He held out to George a large sun hat, brim wide enough to go past his shoulders and colored bright red, uneven white splotches decorating it. It was a mushroom hat, resembling the ones George was sat amongst. George took it cautiously, leaning forward to make room and gently placing it on his head. It fit perfectly.

"You can take off the glasses," XD said. George's hands moved a bit, but hesitated. Sure, the hat blocked a lot of light, but if it wasn't enough it would be painful. Then again, how was he supposed to refuse the requests of God?

Slowly he removed the glasses, squinting his eyes in expectation, waiting for the spikes of pain to shatter his skull. It never came. He blinked, able to see the forest clearly now, untinted and beautiful. XD moved in closer; he would have been looking George straight in the eyes of his weren't covered by a mask. George had a feeling he could see him anyways.

"Your eyes are different," XD remarked. George darted his eyes around, trying not to look directly at XD.

"Yeah, they're different colors. Always have been." George muttered. XD looked like he might reach his hands out to touch his eyes, but instead kept his hands to himself, still levitating.

"You have pretty eyes, George," XD said in a way that made Georges stomach flip. He now sounded almost exactly like Dream. The echo in XD's voice had faded, yet was still audible, a small reminder that he still wasn't human. He had sounded like Dream before, sure, but the reverb had muddled it to a point of no effect. With the voice changed, though, George couldn't ignore the familiarity.

George didn't respond, just sat in a stunned silence, searching for coherent words. XD didn't seem to mind, seemingly content with staring into George's eyes, transfixed in amber and blue.

"Are you okay, George?" XD asked after a minute of George's nervous gaze. George blinked back.

"Yeah, Dream, I'm fine," he replied before he could think about it. XD didn't falter. It was his name, somewhat, even if it was apparent that George didn't mean it to address him.

"Why are you here," George asked, hoping to move the subject off of himself.

"Because you're here, George," XD said. He kept the echo out of his voice the best he could, watching the way something in George's eyes shifted. "You invited me here."

"Invited you?" George searched his memory for anything he did that could have summoned God. Nothing came to mind. "How did I invite you?"

"You're very welcoming, George. You seemed like you wanted to see me."

George bit his tongue. How did he seem like he wanted to see DreamXD? Wait, he thought, I was thinking about Dream and the prison, wasn't I? Is that enough to draw God's attention to you?

He forced himself out of his thoughts and slowly tried to rise without moving forward. XD followed him up as he rose, maintaining "eye contact" (since George couldn't see the others eyes, he wasn't sure it could qualify).

"I think I need to go now," George said, searching for an out. XD stayed still.

"Why? You have nowhere to be. You're asleep." XD stated like it was a known fact between the two. It was not.

"Im not sleeping," George corrected. "I woke up. You woke me up." XD shrugged as if to say "If you think so, sure."

"If you think you're awake, prove it to me," XD said. The echo in his voice had returned. George almost mourned the loss.

"How am I supposed to prove im awake, I mean, I just am," doubt began seeping into George's statements. He was awake, he was sure of it.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" XD asked. "Why would I lie to you, George. What would I gain from that?" George opened his mouth and shut it just as quickly.

"I guess that's fair," he muttered. "But how can I prove im awake? Like, pinch myself?" He tried without request, hissing at the sting.

"Do you doubt the power of your dreams, George?" XD asked. George faltered for a moment. You aren't supposed to feel pain in dreams, right? Then again, you aren't exactly supposed to have casual interactions with God either, but here he was.

"So what, I'm lucid dreaming?" George asked, still disbelieving that a dream could feel this real. XD shook his head.

"You're still underestimating your mind, George," he said, echo slowly fading until it was nearly gone. "You're powerful."

George tilted his head down, the brim of his hat sufficiently blocking his face from view. Why must he sound so much like Dream when complicating me? He thought. Does he know the effect he has?

"So," George started carefully. "If im sleeping right now, does that mean im just imagining you?" XD shook his head again.

"I'm just as real as you are," he said, startling George as he reached a large hand to brush fingertips against Georges cheek, making his face flush pink. "Probably even more real."

"More real?" George asked, not moving away from XD's touch. "What does that mean? How can you be more real than me?"

"You ask a lot of questions," XD remarked, bringing his hand back and away from George. "You're smart. You can figure things out." George frowned.

"Why can't you just tell me things?" He asked. XD shook his head.

"You're asking questions again," he scolded. George was about to retaliate when XD held a hand up.

"I think it's time you woke up, George," he said. George felt a part of him panic. This was the closest thing he had gotten to a conversation with Dream in ages. Well, a conversation that wasn't a tearful and angry goodbye.

"Wake up?" George asked, now incredibly self conscious about the questions he asked. "Will you still be here?"

XD smiled, lowering himself to the ground finally. He towered over George, over twice his height and powerful enough to probably crush George's head between his hands without trying. He was closer, though, close enough that George could see slight strands of dirty blonde hair poke out from under XD's hood when he looked far up enough.

"I'm always here," XD said. "If you want to see me again, you just need to want to see me. I'll know." George shook his head slightly.

"That doesn't make sense," he criticized. "So can I see you when im awake, too?" XD's smile didn't change, but the energy of it shifted noticeably.

"You'll just have to see, won't you George?" George wanted to protest again, but his eyelids suddenly were overtaken with weight and his mind was slowing.

"Wake up, George. You can't sleep forever."

George was awake, the forest dark as it was when he fell asleep, glasses sat beside him and-

Holy shit.

The mushroom hat XD had made him in his dream was sat upon his legs in front of him. It was real.

"Probably even more real," the God's words ringing in George's head. He was more confused than ever now, unsure if he had actually been asleep or not. Other than the hat there was no sign of XD, the hole in the forest roof nonexistent now.

He already felt himself longing to hear that voice again. XD had told George that if he wanted to see him, he'd be there. XD wasn't there. Of course, this only lead to one thought for George:

He can only visit me in my dreams.

George now hated his energy, his lack of tiredness, and wished for sleep once again. He wished to hear the voice that tied his stomach in knots because it was once a voice that whispered sweet nothings into his ear at night. He wished to see the closest thing he had to the arms that held him tight and lips that declared George to be claimed by Dream in one way or another. This was the closest thing to loving Dream again, being loved by Dream again, that he probably would ever get. 

DreamXD had told him that he couldn't sleep forever, but in that moment he had fully prepared to fall into a coma with no regrets.

[mikkomacko]

Bloodsucker I

She loves him.

Loves the way he laughs with all his chest, even if something isn't that funny. Loves the way his emerald green eyes seem to shine. Loves the way his nose twitches when he speaks. She loves everything about him, and she really can't imagine ever not loving him. Harry's just one of the people that linger, always in your heart or mind no matter what. She's certain he'll be someone that's around for eternity.

Eternity. She sighs softly, stroking her fingers through the tangle of curled baby hairs by his temple, imagining a life with Harry. They've been together for almost a year, their anniversary being tomorrow and while it hasn't been very long, y/n hates the thought of not having another year with him. And another after that, and after that, and after that. Morning after morning of seeing his face squished into the pillow, light snores escaping his parted lips.

She's caught up in dreaming up a life with him, one in which she moves into this big house of his and maybe they adopt a little kitty and Harry writes children's stories inspired by their own babies, a beautiful haze that prevents her from noticing the lack of snores coming out of her boyfriend. It's not until his eyes have fluttered open, brilliant in the morning glow, does she realize he's awake.

"S'early dove." Harry croaks, accent thick and voice scratchy. His hand moves out from under the pillow, digging a knuckle into his eye. "Sleep with me again, got all weekend to ourselves."

A smile stretches her mouth, fingers still carding through his hair and he practically purrs at the feeling as he nuzzles back into the pillow. It's true, Harry insisted they spend the whole weekend at his place, just the two of them loving on each other until their anniversary dinner tomorrow night. She didn't hesitate to agree, happily packing up a few necessities from her apartment to now occupy the side of the bed he always reserves for her.

"M'not tired H." Y/n mumbles back, willing away her droopy eyes. Her body feels tired, limbs warm and heavy under the multiple blankets on the bed, but her heart is wide awake and restless.

Scolding, Harry raises the one eyebrow that's not hidden by the pillow. "Know you're tired. Eyes are puffy and ya've got dark circles." Bones cracking like a glow stick, Harry pushes himself up with a slight wince and urges her onto her back so he can fit his large frame between her thighs. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, so light her eyes close allowing him to kiss her eyelids with the touch of a butterfly wing. "Sleepy baby."

"Kissy, baby?"

Harry chuckles, breath fanning across the lower half of her face before he connects their mouths at her request, and his enjoyment. Lips still kissing, hers now parted to give him the opportunity to explore, Harry shuffles further up her body to press the bulge in his underwear against her crotch. The blankets fall down to the crooks of his knees, exposing them to the morning air but neither care as he breaks from her mouth to press kisses across her jawbone, up to her ear.

"S'have a morning shag baby," Harry pleads, as if they don't always have a morning shag, and his teeth teasingly nibble on her ear lobe. A bubbly giggle leaves her mouth, nails scratching at his bare shoulder blades. "What are ya laughing for?? M'serious."

Oh she knows he's serious. She can feel just how serious he is against her thigh. "You just told me to go back to sleep!"

Harry pulls back, lifting himself to his hands and frowning down at her. "Well yeah but I think you'd rest better after I've fucked ya good."

He looks like a petulant child, eyebrows pinched together and lips pursed in a grumpy pout. How he can go from being a 28 year old man to a 4 year old boy is unknown to her but she doesn't care because he's her man to love and her boy to baby when he needs it.

"You want to?"

Scoffing, Harry nods rapidly. "Really really want to." As if proving his point he ruts his hips forward just once, allowing her to feel his eagerness. Y/n seals their lips together again, hooking a leg around his hip and using her foot to push his briefs down.

"Go on then, tire me out H."

That's all he really needs before he's removing her pajama shirt, leaving her naked beneath him. His fingertips leave dots of electricity across her skin, gripping her hip in one hand and her thigh in the other. Their mouths part after a sloppy peck, Harry dragging his lips down the column of her throat and nudging the head of his prick between her folds. Like always, when he sinks all the way between her walls, y/n is mush of dazed moans and clingy hands. Harry's quick with his thrusts, fucking her somewhat sloppily but perfectly, and the haze that settles around them is otherworldly. Y/n thinks Harry must be some other being with the way he's always able to pull her apart without much effort. Little does she know, her thoughts aren't far off because after she's reached her peak, whimpering and clenching around his cock, and Harry's emptied inside her as well, he stays awake until she's fully asleep again, tired enough to not even stir when he sinks two sharp teeth into her jugular.

Harry thinks her blood is otherworldly.

<|>

The mid-day sun filters through the yellow and red leaves, scattering into beams of tinged light on the kitchen floor. A pan of tofu sizzles on the stove, the chicken seasoning on it overpowering the smell of pumpkin guts that had filled his kitchen an hour ago when they had carved the vegetable. Harry's wearing the apron he stole from her apartment a few months ago, a blue and white flannel pattern that makes his eyes appear baby blue as well.

They've always enjoyed cooking together, Harry doing more of the cooking and her more of the tasting because he's got magic senses in the kitchen. Everything he makes is delicious, always impressing her whether it's a brand-new recipe or a repeated favorite dish, and she once again longs for forever with him.

"A lifetime gone by,

more years than men need,

a gift of another was bestowed upon me,

and yet time with you will always be..."

The pause in the air is palpable, y/n waiting eagerly for him to continue while she drains their ramen noodles. When the moments passed and Harry is still hunched over the counter, peering down at his journal in deep thought, she speaks. "Always be what babe?"

The scrunch of his nose tightens, sighing in frustration and dropping his black pen to the counter. "Don't know. S'just too many words I could put there but I don't like the way they sound." Shutting the journal, he shoves it aside on the counter until it's resting next to his laptop and other plot lines. While Harry's written many books under a different name, he's starting his first ever poetry book and it's proven to be even more of a struggle than writing romance or horror novels (they're his two favorite).

Shuffling around the counter top, he moves to stir the tofu around in the pan with a disgruntled frown on his face. Placing the noodles back on the stove, y/n drapes herself against his back, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. "You'll get it H," she promises, "you're amazing with words and you've got such a beautiful mind. Wise beyond your years, you know that?"

She doesn't see his smile nor the nervous bob of his Adams apple. If only she knew just how many years he's had.

<|>

In the back corner of the restaurant, a candle flickering between the two of them, y/n watches with hearts in her eyes as he slices through his steak. Her own plate of pasta and sautéed veggies is half eaten in front of her, but there’s no room for any more food in her belly due to the amount of butterflies swirling in there.

“Was thinking of a new story today.” Harry says after swallowing the bite in his mouth and rinsing it down with a gulp of wine. “‘Nother romance one.”

“You’ve been writing a lot of romance lately,” she comments, “not in a horror mood right now?”

His lips quirk up bashfully, popping a bite of medium rare meat between in his teeth. Chest expanding with a deep inhale, he chews with suspense, fists resting on the dining table with his knife and fork in each palm. He looks handsome, powerful and regal with his hair curling down his shoulders perfectly and his button up shirt being more shirt than buttoned up. She wants to reach over the table and trace her fingers over his soft collarbones but she refrains. For now.

“S’fun to write romance when you’ve got a muse.”

The blood that rises to her cheeks is warm and beautiful, catching Harry's eye immediately. He hadn't intended to fluster her with the comment, but now that he's done it he can't help but drool. Which is why they spend the rest of dinner praising each other, Harry's mouth filling with venom every time he hears or smells her blood warm under his words.

And he enjoys her soft spoken words too. It's been a while since he's felt like more than just a monster, and hearing his girl tell him how much she loves and adores him, how she'll never get enough of him, is almost heartwarming.

He's starry eyed when they leave the restaurant, barely catching the keys that the valet hands him followed by the words "get home safe."

Gets home safe. It's ironic Harry thinks right now, with his hand stretched over the center console to hold hers. She looks exhausted, head slumped against the window but watching him with a fond smile. He can feel the thumping of her heart, the pure adoration radiating off of her being. It's the exact way he feels about her. It's the exact reason their blood runs through each other. It's the exact reason why he wants her with him forever. And, unfortunately, it's the exact reason her choice of life is taken from her.

"If you could, would you be mine forever?" He asks, stomach twisting nervously. She doesn't know the extent of the question but he still would like to know. His words cause her to perk up, eyes widening in happiness and a smile pulling at her lips.

Too caught up in her bright eyes, Harry fails to notice the deer crossing the street directly in front of them. Even with his heightened senses, she takes up all of him. It's at the last moment that he catches it out of the corner of his eye, slamming on the brakes and jerking out of the path of the animal. The tires skid and Harry loses all control of the car as it runs off the side of the road. Instinctively, his hands leave the wheel, one coming up to shield his face while the other reaches over for y/n. He's going to grab her, has to grab her. He has to keep her safe. Unfortunately he's not fast enough before the car slams into the tree, glass shattering around them. But over the sound of it all, Harry can only hear her heart take it's last beat.

<|>

Y/n is convinced that she's just waking up. Her day with Harry, their anniversary dinner, the car ride home, the deer....it was all a dream. She'd been up earlier than usual, maybe she fell into such a deep sleep it seemed real.

She's back at Harry's, that she's certain of because it's practically her room as well. The smell of him is stronger, stinging her nostrils and the back of her throat. This does nothing but make the pounding in her skull even worse, eyes squeezing shut to block out the dim room. The action is futile however, because nothing could possibly block out the pain in her body. Her insides feel cold and heavy, weighing down on her muscles and bones. It's then that she realizes the hollowness of her chest.

Her heart's not beating.

The organ that gave her life, fueled her body has gone still, turned to stone in her chest. She's dead. She's died and the afterlife has brought her to Harry's house, to her home.

She doesn't remember what happened, not really. Their anniversary dinner stands out in the fog of her memory, Harry sat under the warm lights in his baby blue button up and suit jacket, the swallows on his chest joining them for dinner. Holding his hand in the car, admiring the way their matching rings look when they're side-by-side. The last thing she can pick out of the night is Harry looking over at her, stoplight gleaming in his eyes as he softly and longingly whispered "if you could, would you be mine forever?"

If he'd been with her in the last place she remembers, perhaps he's here with her too. Pushing herself up from his bed and onto her elbows causes a sharp sting on the bend of her elbow, and when she opens her eyes to investigate, the sight makes her dizzy.

A tube has been stuck into her veins, thick red blood turning the plastic a deep maroon color. It's as if she's simply giving blood if it weren't for the fact that the blood bag attached to the tube is emptying, not filling. And resting on the floor next to the draining one is another empty bag. Her mind swirls with confusion and panic, wondering why she'd need blood in the afterlife and why so much of it. Dead people don't need blood.

"Y/n?"

His voice catches her off guard, snapping her attention away from the blood and turning it towards the doorway of his bedroom. Harry stands in the shadows, face dark with the hallway light illuminating his silhouette.

"Harry?" She whimpers, tears welling in her eyes in relief. He's here which means she'll be ok. He'll take care of her. He inches forward at the sound of her trembling voice but doesn't approach the bed much to her disliking. "Harry please-"

"Are you in pain?" He cuts her off, voice void of any of the usual warmth he carries when speaking to her. His gruffness makes her pause, tears stilling in her eyes. That's not her Harry, she's not safe with whoever is standing in the doorway right now. Cautious, she stays silent. "Does anything hurt y/n? You have to tell me if it does."

As if triggered by his words, a sharp pains seizes in her chest and she's unable to stop the wince that curls her shoulders forward. Harry moves at that, now perching himself on the end of the bed next to her. Before she can make any move away from him, he reaches out, pressing his palm over the throbbing area of her chest and urging her back into the pillows. His touch dulls the pain, leaving her pliant and teary as she watches his shadow.

"S'your organs hardening," Harry says solemnly, not offering another explanation. Y/n thinks she could throw up, her stomach churning and bubbling uncomfortably. Hardening?

"My heart's not beating."

Harry nods, just once. The band that's on her chest moves up to cup her cheek, thumb swiping over her cheek to remove the tear that had fallen. "I know dove, and s'all my fault." His voice cracks, a sniffle breaking through the dark and she wants to sit up and hug him, feel his comfortable arms around her. She refrains, not wanting that sharp pain to spread throughout her body again.

"What's your fault Harry? What's going on?"

Finally, he reaches over and flicks on the lamp on the bedside table. The bulb bathes the room in a soft light, illuminating Harry's sullen face. For the first time since she's met him, his eyes are red rimmed and glazed with tears of anguish. Inhaling shakily, Harry threads his fingers through her hair.

"It's my fault s'not beating darling. I'm your Maker."

"Maker?" She asks, confused.

"You're a vampire now y/n. I turned you."

[butterflies-dragons]

Sansa feeling bat wings inside her tummy ? Could that mean kids with some Targ heritage in her belly ? Sansa carrying the child of a Targ ?

Are you talking about my tags on this post Cracking / Breaking a Gigantic Egg?

It’s an old idea that is in my drafts since 2017.  Let me elaborate:

Sansa's Wedding:  

"A bride at her wedding should be more than well." His voice was not unkind. "You seemed close to tears."

"Tears of joy, ser."

"Your eyes give the lie to your tongue." Ser Garlan turned her, drew her close to his side. "My lady, I have seen how you look at my brother. Loras is valiant and handsome, and we all love him dearly . . . but your Imp will make a better husband. He is a bigger man than he seems, I think."

The music spun them apart before Sansa could think of a reply. It was Mace Tyrell opposite her, red-faced and sweaty, and then Lord Merryweather, and then Prince Tommen. "I want to be married too," said the plump little princeling, who was all of nine. "I'm taller than my uncle!"

"I know you are," said Sansa, before the partners changed again. Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

Sansa stiffened as his hand touched hers, but the king tightened his grip and drew her closer. "You shouldn't look so sad. My uncle is an ugly little thing, but you'll still have me."

"You're to marry Margaery!"

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it."

Sansa shook her head. "He won't."

"He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Thankfully, it was time to change again. Her legs had turned to wood, though, and Lord Rowan, Ser Tallad, and Elinor's squire all must have thought her a very clumsy dancer. And then she was back with Ser Garlan once more, and soon, blessedly, the dance was over.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

In summary,

That time when Joffrey said to Sansa: “I will put a bastard on you just like that King Aegon". 

This is yet one more JoJo thing, JoJo is what I call all the things that make Jon and Joffrey foils. The main one being: Jon is a Prince disguised as a Bastard while Joffrey is a Bastard disguised as a Prince.

So, while Jon is all: “Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom”. —A Game of Thrones - Jon I

Here is Joffrey comparing himself with Aegon IV “the Unworthy”, the King that fathered numerous bastards...    

And this is the second time Joffrey is compared with ‘an Aegon’.  The first time was this:

The morning of King Joffrey's name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. "What do you think it means?" she asked him.

"Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. "See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace's name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey's Comet."

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. "I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."

"King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son," Ser Arys said. "He is the dragon's heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey's ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

And who is the real “dragon’s heir”??? In the Show Jon’s Targaryen name was Aegon but I still hope it will be Aemon...

So every time that Joffrey is compared with ‘an Aegon’ in Sansa’s Chapters we can find allusions to Jon Snow??? Uhmmm.......... Curiouser and curiouser!  

Onto the next Sansa's chapter:

Joffrey's Wedding:

Tyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

In summary, 

That time when Sansa felt very uncomfortable imagining Joffrey putting a bastard on her and she felt like a bat was inside her tummy.

It’s interesting that Sansa describes the idea of carrying Joffrey's bastard as though she'd swallowed a bat.

Sansa usually says that her tummy flutters when she feels uncomfortable, distressed, scared, etc, but this is the only time that she links that “fluttering” feeling with bat wings. 

One of the meanings of the verb flutter is the “beating of wings.” And George has used the image of bat wings as a symbol of dragon wings several times in the Books.

“Tell me how my child died.”

“He never lived, my princess. The women say …”

(…)

“They say the child was …”

(…)

“Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. “Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.

—A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

Viserion launched himself from the ceiling, pale leather wings unfolding, spreading wide. The broken chain dangling from his neck swung wildly. His flame lit the pit, pale gold shot through with red and orange, and the stale air exploded in a cloud of hot ash and sulfur as the white wings beat and beat again.

—A Dance with Dragons - The Dragontamer

As you can see, dragon wings are usually described similar to bat wings or leather wings, as it also happens in this passage in reference to Sansa:

“What wife?”

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.”

That’s stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she’d never marry the Imp.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

As I said before, the fascinating image of Sansa as a wolf with big leather wings makes me think of Sansa wearing a Targaryen Cloak/ Marrying a Targaryen in the future.  

And there are even more Targaryen allusions in the Joffrey’s wedding passage: 

FIRE: For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth = Eggs (dragon eggs) + Burned her mouth (dragon fire). 

BLOOD: Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat = Carrying Joffrey’s bastard / carrying Aegon’s IV bastard / carrying a dragon���s heir (the blood of the dragon). 

This two events happened in two consecutive Sansa’s Chapters from the same Book (ASOS), during two weddings, the couples that married didn’t love each other, the marriages were unconsummated, the discussion of bastards was involved, Targaryen allusions were present... there is a pattern: Weddings / Aegons / Bastards / dragon's heirs / Kings / Joffrey / Sansa / Jon / Fire & Blood... 

So maybe in Sansa's future she will wed, for love, to a real Aegon descendant, and due her fertility, during her wedding night she will conceived a baby dragon, a king; just like Cat conceived a king during her wedding night.

And that’s all.......... I never wrote properly about it until this summarized version here.

[thewritingstar]

Beautiful Revelations

Pairing: Gruvia (I know its been a hot ass min)

Fandom: Fairy Tail 

tags: @shellielyzabeth @be-dazzled @nostalgicxslumber @unvalley @tigerfire54

Note: It has happened. I have written 200 fanfics and idk if I should be proud or slightly scared. (feel free to skip this omg why is it so long) 

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged or interacted with me in any way. I have always had a feeling that no matter what I write, I wouldn’t matter. But every comment and sweet note left made me realize that even if its just a smile or enough to make someone hit the like button, I made a small difference or added something to the fandom. Most of my fics are quick drabbles full of spelling mistakes, random thoughts and love for the characters. I know I don’t write very long stories or finish my wips (why are we surprised) but even though Im not someone people look to as a big author, each of you have made me feel special. There have been many times, this year especially that I had decided to give up writing. “Im not good enough and no one will even notice” Thats what I told myself if I decided to just back away. But every so often I would look and see that someone new or old had read my work. Every time someone reads something I wrote, I go back and read it too. I look at all the tags and see every comment and I stop and smile and remember how much joy it brought me when I first posted. 

When I first started writing, I thought that I wouldn’t have a place. Yet in a very short span of time, I was welcomed with open arms and people started to tune in regularly for my fics. I had been given many nicknames such as Gruvia goddess, angst queen, satan (yes I know the fic0 and well even Star. 

During my darkest moments, my mind lingered to my writing and to my internet friends. without hesitation I could message someone and feel better and be given the reassure I need. I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that people actually enjoy my writing and even me as a person. 

I thank each of you for giving me a joy that was considered a luxury at one point and allowing me to write whatever I wanted and you took it with love and made me happier than I have been in years. To all the people who made art or wrote me something, it means so much to me. 

Im not saying that this fic is my greatest but I think it has a special place because It shows the growth over time. 200 fics is a lot and whether or not they were all good, it doesn't matter because I did that and I can say that im proud. Im sorry for all that sappy shit but I wouldn't be where I am without you all. 

-Star <3 

ps: im not dying or stop writing fics im just happy lol 

---

  “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a               heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”

― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

---

It was the nights like these that she hated most. The cold would creep through the blankets and make her shiver as her eyelids hung heavy. She could be ready to rest, let the sweet dreams guide her but instead those dark intrusive thoughts toyed with her like a fly on a freshly woven web. They would sprout out of nowhere, tangled with thorns and hold her mind hostage as it injected its sickly venomized thoughts for the night.

She always wondered how she got this far. She was one of the highest members of Phantom Lord, her abilities had rarely been matched. If she desperately craved, she could walk down the hallways and strike fear into the other members, no one could touch her. Hierarchies became a custom here. Once you made it to the top after clawing your way with blood, sweat and probably more blood, you were a god. Yet she walked in and in the next few minutes she was at the table with the master, already receiving a promise that she was special, a delicate and useful ally for the guild.

Special. What a swollen lie that turned out to be.

Maybe that's why she never bothered to search for a light, something to cure the rain. For every life she had bruised or ended, she wanted to feel the pain that followed. She needed to know the consequence of her actions, to be held accountable for ruining another family or taking something from the innocent. Instead she was celebrated.

The days turned to months and she found herself years later not knowing what anything meant anymore. Life used to be black and white. She would walk the side of the kind and good and now she was treading through a swarm of a morally gray compound.

These restless nights, she loathed them but then again, suffering was something that came naturally to her. The only person to ever knock her down was herself.

She climbed out of bed, fuzzy slippers over her feet as she walked to the bathroom. Her headache had worsened and she stared into the mirror. She had looked at herself a thousand times but… have her eyes always been that blue? No, she was tired and her vision was fuzzy, she was fine. Cold water came to her hands as she turned on the facet and splashed her face. Everything was the same as it always was. Expect for today.

Her order was simple. Defeat whoever stood in her way and make sure the Phantom Lord got Lucy Heratfilia. Why did they want some mage? She didn’t know but she was never one to second guess her orders. To go against what she was told was a waste of time, she would have been dead by the end of the day if she did. She had once believed that they accepted her with open arms, that Phantom Lord truly cared about her well being. It was a lie. A bitter sweet lie she allowed to remain in her head.

Hundreds of opponents had come before her. She was accustomed to the way of a battle and had harnessed her skill at a young age. The pure power of the rain pushed her further. She had an unlimited amount of power around her, unlike others, they would run out of fuel. She began to crave that god-like power. Allow the storm to rage on, all she had was herself and the droplets that followed. She understood she was an outcast. Love was never an option, not for someone who brought gloom everywhere.

But this afternoon, fate was a funny thing. She walked onto that rooftop, winning was the only thing on her mind, but he was there. A man who didn’t back down, a man who saw her as an equal.

Her heart began to race. It was forgien and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She had felt attraction before but this, this was different. Something as small as a single glance had already spun her mind into a muddled mess. It would have been better if she turned around, if he didn’t engage in the fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t be thinking of him like this.

Love at first sight. That wasn’t real. No one could possibly have that happen. What could drive someone's emotion so wild that they become attached to a person in such a short time? And yet it happened. He stood there waiting for the next move and she could only gaze at him with rose colored glasses.

An enemy. A traitor. That's what she would be if she dared to let him escape. She couldn’t hestatite, she never did and now she was frozen in her spot as ice magic danced around her. Peoples magic and abilities never intrigued her, but this, this was beyond anything she had seen.

The light reflecting off of the ice as her droplets froze before her eyes was breathtaking and she hardly noticed that she was losing the battle. She never thought rain could look, dare she say, beautiful? But in this state of its frozen glory, it was all she could think about. She envied those who never had to stay in the rain, a jealousy she didn’t want to admit had festered over the years and she gave up trying to despise the element. But before her was something much more than the state she was accustomed to. Ice. The solid purity of her own and she had wondered what it would be like to hold it in her hands.

She had water locked him, pulled out all of the stops and even with that, he stood again and again. He had screamed that the water was boiling, burning his skin but never before had the water gone above warm. It was usually ice cold on the tipping point of freezing but she could feel the warmth surrounding her.

It shocked her just the same. She had heard people talk about feeling the sun kiss their skin, the warmth spreading as they walked, this was the closest she had felt to that. This warm rush of water was beyond what she had known and yet even as it tinged her hands it felt good, it felt freeing, it felt right.

It burned in a way she had craved for so long. Something other than the fridgeness she had grown used too.

She stared at her reflection in her mirror, tears brimming her eyes. How could one person she just met bring her something she had never felt before? She shut the light out in the bathroom and walked back to her bed, passing her window, she stopped and turned.

Above in the sky was the moon. A soft white glow surrounded the orb that she had never seen before. It was breathtaking. A cosmic power the normal people of the world didn’t dare to worship now became a luxury. The sky was clear and she could see the stars, she could sense them all. How could she have lived her entire life never once seeing the moon and the sun? She had been cursed to live in the rain forever.

But he-he made it stop.

When he grabbed her arm, it was like time had stopped. As if everything she had ever known was washed away and all she could see was a bright light encasing him. She was content knowing her death was coming, there was hardly a reason for her to live. Perhaps she wasn't even living, just surviving day after gloomy day.

He pulled her to safety, her back against the roof as she panted heavily. Those clouds above her moved like a curtain for a show, parting just so that she could see the enchanting mystery she had always craved.  

She had never known a blue sky till then. The brightness was almost unbearable as she stared into a sky she had never known. So many emotions flooded her head but it was clear as those ice crystals that her heart was beating for him. She was his enemy, they made that clear from the start but he hadn’t hesitated to save her. He showed a mercy she had never come across.

Another tear fell as she sat on her bed.

“He saved Juvia.” She whispered to herself. A horrific thought came to her. Would she have saved him? She didn’t want to know the outcome because deep down she believed she was good. Beneath the surface of unremosle power, there was that scared little girl who never had anyone to care for her.

The amount of days she sat in that orphanage alone sewing her dolls and praying that the rain stopped one way or another, it was as if she couldn’t remember it. He had done the impossible. He showed her the sky she hadn’t seen. He had shown her kindness.

A thought came to mind as she stood and packed her things. No more would she be known as “the rain woman”. No more would gloom be her only trait. She was determined to find something much more appealing than those bowing by fear. She wanted love. She wanted that warmth of the water constantly and the feeling of the sun on her skin. She understood it now. There was a power strong than her, stronger than any wizard that surrounded the other guild.

She had vowed to be done with love. Promised herself that no man could hurt her again. She was trembling at the thought of being vulnerable once more. The only time she felt warmth was the scorching burn of a fiery rejection and words that burned like lava. It was too much for someone to handle. So she pushed it down, locked the key and threw it as far as she could. The temptation though. The idea of letting her guard down for someone, someone she barely knew? How she fantasized of that moment. She had once believed that someone of her past had done that, but they were all the same. Ashamed of the rain, the rain she caused, the pain she brought.

And after their fight when she collected herself and tried to run back towards her guild, he stopped her.

“For what it's worth I think you’re an incredible wizard. You may not want to believe that your guild is dark and bad but, Fairy Tail is always open.” He had said it with such sincerity that she wasn’t sure if it were true.

“Juvia thinks your magic is just as powerful.” She had said before he gave her a smile and turned away to go back to his other guild mates.

And here she stood, a suitcases packed in the night and a note left on the desk. This guild didn’t deserve any words. Not when they feasted on her ability. Harvested those negative emotions and almost made her fall into the deep end.

She knew what they would say. They would call her a coward. A traitor and a worthless wizard, at first it was enough to stop her. Make her stay and perhaps bring back the clouds. However what he said stuck in her mind.

“I would rather die fighting than let your guild have Lucy! She is one of us and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

Without hesitation he made it clear that every member of the guild was valued no matter how long they had been there, they were a family. If something like that would have happened, if she were threatened, her guild would let her die without a second thought.

Never again would she allow someone to have a hold over her. She spent too many years sheltered by pain and deviation to go on like that.

She grabbed her bag and closed her door.

--

Juvia stood in front of the door. The morning would be better to do this but it was beyond dark outside and she didn’t want her intrusive thoughts pulling her back to her old guild. Softly she knocked, maybe hoping that he wouldn’t hear it and force her back to the isolation of fear.

The open clicked open and her eyes widened slightly as a sleepy Gray leaned against the door frame, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

“Juvia?” He blinked and watched as her cheek puffed out in red. He looked down to see that he was only in his underwear and let out a yelp as he grabbed a blanket off the chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Um Juvia thought.” She paused and looked towards the ground. “Actually Juvia apologies for disturbing you.” Her back was to him and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” His hand caught hers and he pulled slightly. A jolt of warmth spread through her, burning her like a thousand suns as well as the chill of ice from his own temperature. She looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Juvia, please just tell me.”

“Such kindness.” She whispered to herself. Her heart rate sped up just like it did earlier and she swallowed a breath. “Juvia was wondering…why did you save her?”

His hand dropped her as if he were shocked that she would dare question his action.

“I wasn’t going to let you die. Enemies or not, I don’t think you deserved that fate. I don’t believe that you are this evil person your guild made you out to be. To be honest when you fell, you look like you didn’t care what happened and I guess I saw myself in you.”

“You saved Juvia because you know what it's like?”

“To feel lost and hopeless I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sometimes it's hard thinking you deserve to live, that it would be better to harbor all the pain of your past. I don’t know everything about you but that look in your eyes. I couldn’t let you go knowing that there was a brighter future ahead.”

A tear dripped from her eye. Her smile was soft as hugged her arms to her body. “You knew Juvia would join the guild.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew, but I was hoping that you would. If you still want to, that is.”

“Juvia would be honored.” She bowed respectfully towards him.

Gray smiled and bowed back. His eyes faced the sky looking towards the moon. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Tonight would be the first. Juvia thinks the stars are remarkable.”

“Lucy knows alot about them, I think you two would be good friends.”

Juvia shook her head as regret twisted in her stomach. “Juvia accepts your kindness and compassion but she doesn’t know if the rest will. Juvia was her rival, she understands if everyone doesn’t see her as a friend.” She frowned slightly.

A laugh came from the ice mage's mouth. “That's the thing about Fairy Tail, no matter where you come from or what your past may have held, there's always going to be a friend waiting.”

Juvia nodded. “Thank you Gray. Juvia will talk to your guild master tomorrow.”

“Like I said before. You’re an incredible wizard, you’ll be just fine.” He winked.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She watched as he entered his house before turning around and walking towards her hotel. Her shoulders felt lighter and she held her head high for the first time. This was her step in the right direction, this was where her new life began.

Time had slowed and allowed her to pause. A beautiful revelation she never knew could exist came to mind as she just realized that she was in love.

---

She looked down at her leg in the mirror. The voices behind her had faded to the background as she became entranced with the mark of Fairy Tail.

“The blue suits you.” She turned to see Gray standing there with a smile as he was focused on her guild mark.

To say that she was grateful was an understatement. Her mask she wore like a crown had shattered. It unravels in his hands as the months went on and all that was left was the person she wanted to be. She could finally let go of her ghosts, her darkness and begin to forgive herself.  

---

“What do you think?” He asked her as the white sky fell with snow.

Gray had told her of a special spot he used to go to when the first snow came. Past the forest was a clearing of grassy hills that would soon become a winter wonderland. Laid out on one of the hills was a blanket and a few lanterns.

She held her hand out and felt the tiny snowflakes collect on her hand. He sat behind her, one arm snaked around her waist while the other hand rose above hers and created a small flurry of snowflakes.

“Breathtaking.” She gushed. This was the first time she had seen snow fall. Her eyes followed the ice magic as it formed a heart and blew into the sky joining the other flurries. She turned so she could meet his eyes and his normal content face was replaced with a smile.

He leaned forward until their noses touched briefly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He said and she only had a moment to process his words as his lips landed on hers and her eyes fluttered close.

Her hand went to his cheek as she leaned towards him, her energy matching his and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart. She would be embarrassed to say that she might have dreamt of this moment a little too much but it didn’t matter now. All she knew was that her beloved felt the same.

---

For once she was happy to hear a cry. That little whimper bubbling from the baby's mouth, her baby, she was in disbelief. Perfection was a rarity. No one was perfect, but the being with a tuft of dark blue hair and grey eyes would beg to differ. A child was never in her future. The thought came up randomly but the idea of raising a family wasn’t even a question.

During her missions in her old guild, she would walk past a family. She would see happy faces on everyone and would only be filled with envy and hatred. Disgusting was what it was. How could you love someone else when there was no love for you?

But times change. She would see others holding their child's hand and feel a warmth in her heart at how the children beamed up at their parents. She could sense the love all around them and would smile herself, hoping that it might become a reality for herself.

She would wake in the middle of the night, not from her demons but for her new reason to live. He would babble and tug at the locks of her hair and giggle when water magic danced before his young eyes.

---

It was nights like these that loved the most. The soft rays of moonlight casting shadows through her window as silk sheets wrapped around her bare form. She used to spend nights alone, only her pillow to catch her tears and now delicate fingers trail her backside as she listens to the thumping of his heart. His chest rises and falls as her own follows the rhythm. Her eyes flutter close as her tiredness grows untils it's interrupted by a cool press of lips under her ear.

A peaceful sigh leaves her lips as she tilts her head up to meet dark eyes gazing at her. Flushed cheeks was something she wore often and she lifted off of him to move further up and meet his lips with hers. He pulls her back to him, hating the emptiness between them and adores the way she shivers when his thumb traces her guild mark.

Their love was honest and raw. She had learned that nights like those in the past would haunt him as well. They would keep him up and plague his thoughts with images of death and destruction. But now, they lingered in the shadows, always there but something brighter and beautiful guarded them to peace and she focused on the way he breathed her name then the tears that dropped.

There was an overwhelming amount of happiness that she had gathered after all the years she spent in Fairy Tail. She found friendship and family bonds. Love in all forms that she cherished deeply. Her powers were seen as a gift to help others and lend a hand, not twisted into medled lies that she had spent so long untangling.

Her lips pulled from his slowly and their breaths settled between them. When she looked at Gray she found something more. She had freedom and rebirth. Forgiveness and lust wrapped into something more than love. Their bond was stronger than she could have ever dreamed and when he left kisses over her skin she wanted nothing more in life than to stay frozen in this moment.

He did the impossible. He opened a door, shined a light through her darkness and allowed her to accept the fact that she did deserve to live. She could cherish moments and keep them as her own without the threat of corruption. Her life was now her own to command and she did it with such grace and beauty that Gray couldn’t imagine her being any different. 

“I love you.” He promised and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it.

“I love you too.” She responded.

The beautiful truth was that she was finally at peace and loved herself. 

---

I hope that you all enjoyed and thank you for being so lovely <3

[lutbys]

Gift Wrapping

MIND YOU THIS IS VERY UNEDITED IT IS REALLY JUST A BRAIN DUMP OF A FIC ILL EDIT IT ONE DAY JUST NOT TODAY TQVM 

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader

Summary: Thinking you were going to be alone in the common room, Draco sits in the corner by himself, struggling to wrap his gifts for Christmas

You hear the last doors close and the hallways were finally quiet. 

“Wher’you going?” you hear your dormmate mumble, seconds to slumber. “I’m going to go read, clear my head a bit” but you didn’t hear a response, only the small whistled breaths to indicate the they were fast asleep.

Your feet tapped on the stone stairs lightly, book in hand as you led the way to the common room.

There were always candles lit throughout the night in but that didn’t contrast with the fireplace as its brightness roared through the room, lighting up even the smallest crevices.

The fireplace was the best part of the common room, it always amazes you with the blazing fire it brings and the crackling that bring peace, almost like white noise.

Your feet tapped on the stone stairs quietly, book in hand as you made a bee line to the common room. it was dark, any surface the light of the fireplace didn’t touch was dark enough to be considered non-existent.

The fireplace was your favourite part of the dungeon. It blazing fire glowed beautifully, and the crackling of wood provided you white noise for nights like these, nights were your mind is awake and unwilling to let yourself into deep slumber.

“For fucks sake.” You heard someone whisper-grunt. You jumped out of your shoes, who could still be up this late?

Your head snapped towards the voice and it led you to the table on the farthest corner of the room, a small lantern being the only source of light that illuminated the voices features.

“Malfoy?” 

The boys head snapped up and his face glowed orange, accentuating the small bags under his eyes.

“What you do want y/l/n?”

“That’s not how you greet a fellow sixth year.” You chuckled. Its only been the fifth time you’ve talked to the boy, having only had to create conversation whenever you were with pansy. You weren’t as close as one would think, what with having the same group of friends and all. “Whatcha doin’?”

The table he occupied was covered with layers upon layers of wrapping paper and gifts, to the far corner sat three messily wrapped gifts, wrapped was an understatement. “Wrapping?”

“Seems like you’ve answered yourself y/l/n”

“d’you need any help?”

“Wouldn’t need it if mother didn’t have a no giftbag rule.” He rolled his eyes, struggling to peel of the tape that had miraculously stuck itself together. “This is bullshit!” in anger, he balled up a the piece of wrapping paper he used and tossed it behind him.

“Let me help you. Good thing, I know how to and don’t possess anger management issues.” To that, Draco glared but nevertheless pushed the gifts towards you.

With elegance, you wrapped a book, its edges crisp and the ends tucked neatly with a single piece of tape. “See! It’s like folding clothes, but not so much.” “Atypical for you to know how to wrap” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You moved on to the next gift “I mean, all these years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you fold anything.” He leaned back in his seat; his eyes glued to your hands as they reach out for the tape.

“Technically, there should be no room for you to comment since you know so little of me.”

To your surprise, the conversation flowed well. Considering his witty remarks and rude sarcasm, Draco was actually good company. With your book long forgotten, the only story you acknowledged were the ones coming out of the blonde boys mouth.

“How about animals. What d’you like?” he asked, fingering with the crisp corners of a cylindrical wrapped gift.

“Snakes. Typical for a Slytherin but there’s just something about them that’s intriguing.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Like, the flowerpot snake which are made up solely off of females and doesn’t need a mate to reproduce yet, they are the most widespread terrestrial snake in the world or- or the fact that a decapitated head of a snake can still bite and hold more venom than usual.”

Draco eyed you as your eyes gleamed from the thought of snakes, subconsciously gesturing with your hands passionately. 

“But I guess the real reason I like snakes is because we used to own one when I was little. Scales. The sweetest little thing that changed my mind completely about them.”

The boy let out a small chuckle, “Scales? Come on y/l/n, there are better names.”

“Hey! I was young and the privilege to get to name her got to me okay.”

“So where’s Scales now?”

Your head ducked, the biggest secret of your life close to slipping from your tongue. “I. It’s- it’s complicated.”

Taking it as a sign, Draco quickly averted the subject knowing he himself wasn’t comfortable with death, -if that was- the case.

The night went on until event he fireplace couldn’t keep up with their company, the fire slowly dimming to a faint, faint glow.

“I should start packing I doubt I can bring much home with all this occupying the space.” He lifted the big bag of presents neatly wrapped because of you. “Will I be seeing you again at the train?”

“No, not this year. I’ll be celebrating it with the elves and most possibly Almost Headless Nick. He pretty good company once you get used to his same performance.” You both giggled at the thought of the ghost boring the students with his same act, only satisfied at the inexperienced first years.

Draco’s heart sank. He tried to push the thought away but after the past couple hours, he regretted not talking to you sooner and now, he had no excuse to use the long ride back home to get to know you better.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll see you after break. Goodnight.”

“Draco wait-“ he barely turned around before your arms encircled around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. For a while, your heart stammered from his lack of response but instantly relaxed when his hands finally found their way around you. “Thank you for tonight. Like snakes, my perspective changed about you.” 

“Glad to know y/l/n. I’d say the same.” You both pulled away with a smile, neither wanting to end the moment but the quiet whispers of dawn approaching did. You slept that morning with the same smile, completely ignoring the loud shuffling of your dormmates rushing to the station with the bliss you felt for your new acquaintance.

-

Christmas morning felt lonelier than usual, what with barely seven people staying back at Hogwarts, the only sounds coming form the great hall being the quiet clatter of utensils and the elves sweeping the floors.

You sat alone at the table, book in hand. The same book you had that night with Draco, the same book you could never finish because you got distracted every few sentences thinking of the same boy.

Finding it useless to finish the chapter among the small distractions, your feet padded back towards your bedroom, the mound of pillows and blankets ready to sink you in the plush. 

Instead, your eyes caught on your once vacant bedside table that now occupied an envelope with your name neatly written on top.

Your hands quickly fiddled with the seal and a small box dropped onto your lap. Opening the letter you read:

The thought of you spending Christmas alone gutted me so here’s my gift to you. It’s not much but I think you’d like it. It symbolizes how I feel about you. Like snakes, you intrigue me. Looking forward to see you again. Draco. p.s. Tell Nick that his jokes aren’t funny for me. That’s my gift for him.

Your fingers found their way to the box. Sleek with the company’s name engraved on top in gold emboss. As you opened it, the sight of the necklace took your breath away.

Accompanying the silver chain was a delicate snake pendant, its details giving texture as you grazed your thumb around it, completely mesmerized by the thing like it was treasure. You sat there for what could have been hours just staring at the beautiful piece of jewellery before you had the nerve to put it on, the snake sitting beautifully on your chest. 

Like it belonged there.

a/n: anyone else made big writing goals prior to the month and burnt out early + didn’t consider the other responsibilities they have so their whole project just complete failed :( bc IT DO BE ME DOE. 

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

[backdraft-bimbo]

beyond

(fix-it script for my storyboard)

SCENE 1 – DEAN’S BEDROOM – NOON

Dean dreams of Castiel. He wakes up at noon, and despite this, looks utterly exhausted. In his arms he clutches the jacket stained with Cas’ bloody handprint. 

He slowly sits up. On his bedside table, there is an uncompleted job application. He considers the paper, then looks back to his jacket. Dean seems torn between the two. He sighs deeply and looks up, searching. 

“Jack? I know you’re, uh, probably busy. But I’ve been praying for days, and I–I need your help. You know I’m not used to... y’know, all this. So I guess I’m apologizing in advance. Just… if you can stop by. Please.”

When there is no response, Dean sighs again and whispers, “Damn it.” He buries his face in his hands, the strength in his voice fading fast. “Damn it, Cas.”

A short beat passes, and Jack appears suddenly in front of Dean. He holds up a hand and greets the hunter with a characteristic “Hello.”

Dean looks up in awe, hopeful, blinking away the welling tears in his eyes. Jack smiles back. Dean almost wants to hug him. 

“Jack? Thank God–” Dean cuts himself off, huffing sardonically. “Well, you know what I mean.” 

Jack looks at him apologetically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner. The universe is... a lot to handle, to say the least. But we are here now.” 

Dean remembers, struck out of his stupor. “Oh, right… Amara’s with you.”

Jack nods. The atmosphere changes swiftly, and said goddess emerges. 

“We know why you’ve been praying, Dean. Truth is, Jack and I have been contemplating this for quite some time.” Amara nods meaningfully at Cas’ bloody handprint. 

Dean looks slightly betrayed, but mostly tired. He can’t bring himself to be angry. “Then why not just answer me sooner?” 

Jack takes over again. “Because of Castiel.” 

Dean’s expression is broken, confused. His silence prompts Jack to continue. 

“Nothing made sense at first. My dad’s deal with the Empty… his true happiness.” Jack stares Dean in the eyes, hoping his message gets across. “But I understand now.” 

“You’ll bring him back?” Dean asks, nearing desperation. At that, Jack fades and Amara returns. She steps closer to Dean and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“No,” she says softly. Dean looks up at her, hurt, confused. “But you will.” 

Amara and Jack snap their fingers, and a portal to the Empty appears in the room. 

“Is that…?” Dean asks slowly.

“A portal to the Empty. Mortals can’t survive there for long. You won’t have much time, I’m afraid.”

Dean stares longingly at the glowing rift, like he can’t tear his eyes away. Jack continues steadily. 

“It needs to be you, Dean. You’re the only one who can do this.”

Dean is eager now, hope brightening his eyes. “How?” 

Amara looks thoughtfully to the portal, then back at Dean. She speaks the heavy truth. 

“Castiel must abandon his grace. If he wishes to return to you, then he must become human. As you know, humanity means eating, sleeping, growing old–all things good and bad that come with it. And, when he dies, he’ll go to Heaven. Just like you,” she nods at Dean. 

Dean is immediately conflicted. He doesn’t want Cas to remain in the Empty, but he’s not sure if the angel wants to be human, either. Amara approaches the portal. 

“Now, the Empty can’t keep mortals... something about ‘disrupting the order of things.’ So, if Castiel were to become human, it would be forced to let him go.”

Jack emerges, his face brimming with trust and determination. Dean’s heart lifts. 

“Right now, Cas is asleep. And it needs to be you, Dean, who wakes him up.”

Dean stares pensively at Jack before shifting his eyes to the floating rift with a growing resolve. 

SCENE 2 – BUNKER KITCHEN – EVENING

Sam and Eileen return from a dinner date and find Dean in the kitchen, looking to be in deep thought. The tea beside him on the table has gone cold. The beer fridge remains stubbornly untouched. 

“Dean?” Sam approaches, concerned. “What are you doing?” 

Eileen glances between the brothers, curiously reading them. Dean blinks the exhaustion out of his eyes and glances up at Sam, clearly holding something big back. “I, uh...” he trails off, preparing a lie. Before Dean says anything further, he looks from Eileen to Sam; considers them, their shared history. Dean decides that he doesn’t want to lie anymore. 

“I’m gonna get Cas back,” Dean replies, rising up from his chair. 

Sam visibly brightens, a smile growing on his face. “Did Jack finally return your prayers? Did you get to talk with him?” 

“Yeah, while you two were out. There’s a portal upstairs and everything.” 

Eileen signs with her hands: How? 

Dean gulps, gaze dropping to the floor. “Jack said I have to wake him up. That I’m the only one who can.” 

Sam catches on quickly. He’s known about Dean and Cas for a very long time, and silently agrees with Jack’s decision to nudge his older brother in the right direction. 

“Do you want to maybe... elaborate?”

Dean ardently avoids Sam’s gaze, struggling with himself. Eileen steps closer to Dean and says aloud (while signing), “You can do this.” 

Beside them, Sam nods in agreement. “She’s right, Dean. And so is Jack. If anyone can get Cas back, it’s you.”

Dean’s shoulders straighten out–he is slowly gaining confidence. Sam smiles fondly at Eileen, who catches his gaze and smiles back. Dean raises his eyebrows knowingly and grins, his prior nervousness fading. 

“Well ain’t you two just the cutest.”  

Sam almost pouts at the friendly jab. Dean stands up tall and moves with purpose from the kitchen, slapping his brother’s back on the way out. 

“Hey,” Sam stops him. “You want me to come with, or...?” 

Dean considers this carefully. Decides. “Thanks, Sammy. Eileen. But I’ve got this one covered.” 

Sam and Dean grin at each other. 

SCENE 3 – DEAN’S BEDROOM / THE EMPTY – NIGHT

Dean closes his bedroom door behind him. The rift glows steadily in the darkness. Castiel is asleep, and Dean must wake him up. The conversation with Sam and Eileen made him encouraged, hopeful. Dean no longer feels as terrified of failing as he was before. It’s almost exhilarating–the excitement of seeing Cas again. Dean is accustomed to managing hope, but now his emotions run wild. Free. The hunter feels young, naive, and exposed; yet opening himself up doesn’t bother Dean anymore, because this is for Cas. 

Dean sucks in a large breath and approaches the portal. 

“Okay, Cas. I’m here.” 

Dean steps through the portal to a black void, the Empty. He needs to take a stuttered few breaths before fully taking in his surroundings–or lack thereof. It’s freezing cold, he’s getting goosebumps, and his lips are turning blue. Dean can feel that he doesn’t belong in this place. 

“Cas? Where are you?” Dean asks, then shouts, “I’m ready to bust your ass out of here!” 

Dean is avoiding the obvious. He knows this. The darkness is silent, unresponsive. Images of Cas dying flash through Dean’s mind. Cas smiling sweetly at him, saying I love you, and Goodbye, Dean.

“Castiel, show yourself!” Dean yells, feeling his body grow weaker. The Empty seems to be gradually sucking the life out of him. “I’m not leaving here without you! I’m gonna stay right here until you wake up. Either you’re coming with me or we’re both stuck here forever!” 

The Empty hisses like a serpent from the darkness. You humans are so noisy. Castiel is mine, boy. My terms, his death. 

“Screw you!” Dean yells indignantly. 

Eloquent as always, Dean Winchester. 

“Bring him here now,” he grits out, frustration and grief swelling. “Cas doesn’t deserve this.” 

The Empty laughs venomously. “Cas” doesn’t want to be saved. 

“Bullshit, he doesn’t want to be saved. Now give him back.” 

It’s tragic, really. Just how far your angel has fallen, the Empty mocks. 

Dean bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean? No–actually, shut the hell up!” 

The Empty takes on a paternal, pitying tone. Anything to get Dean to stop yelling.

You don’t belong here, Winchester. You will soon be dead. As for the angel, Castiel... he wants someone he can’t have. He wants you. Just ask him yourself. When you finally understand the truth, it will be too late to save yourself. What a fitting end, don’t you think? 

Dean scowls. “Why don’t you stick it where the sun don’t–”

A black swarm of goo erupts from the floor to reveal a figure. It’s Cas, emerging from his long slumber. Dean turns to look at him, gaping in shock, and runs to catch the angel before he collapses. 

“Cas!” 

Cas blinks slowly up at Dean, who has him in his arms on the ground. 

“Dean?” 

“You wanna get out of here?” Dean smiles, tearful. 

“I don’t understand...” Cas trails off, perturbed. “Why are you here? Oh, no...”

“No, no, hey... I didn’t make a deal or anything. Jack and, uh, Amara helped me out.”

Cas squints his eyes, looking hilariously confused. “Jack... and Amara?”

“Yeah. Look, Cas, we don’t have a lot of time. If I stay here too long, I’m not getting out. But I sure as Hell ain’t leaving without you.”

Cas looks ready to hesitate, doubt blooming in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but Dean grabs his hand and squeezes it. Cas looks up from his hand to Dean in shock. Dean smiles softly. 

“I’ll explain everything later. Just, please... come back.”

The Empty steps in. You know the price, Castiel. The price of leaving your slumber to pursue a mortal life. All that awaits you is suffering, heartbreak, and death. There is nothing for you back there. 

Cas looks up at Dean, who is growing weaker by the second. Dean, who is looking at him with love and trust in his eyes. The angel makes a decision. 

“You’re wrong. I have everything I want right here,” Cas says, gripping Dean tight. 

They stand up and face the portal. Cas starts to glow, bright as a star. Dean cringes away, his eyes hurting, but the beauty of the sight draws him back. Cas’ eyes glow white and fade into a very human, mortal blue. He and Dean are still holding hands. The Empty is silent. 

“Whoa,” Dean mutters. 

Cas smiles softly as Dean pulls him through the rift. The two stumble back into Dean’s bedroom, and the portal closes behind them. Back in the Empty, it is silent for a moment before....

That backfired.

SCENE 4 – DEAN’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

“That–wow, that... that just happened.” Dean stutters, rambling on nervously. “You had to sleep in that black goo stuff? Talk about poor accommodations, man...” 

He doesn’t notice Cas smiling softly at him until he trails off. Dean’s face scrunches up in a mixture of heartache and hope. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. 

Dean smiles shakily, quiet tears surfacing. The emotions of the past week are coming back full-force. “I’m the guy who should be saying that.” 

Cas catches sight of the bloody handprint on Dean’s jacket, which is still bundled up on his messy bed. “And I’m sorry. For leaving the way I did.” 

Dean gulps hard. He wants to say it, he wants to do something instead of just stand there. He wants to do everything he’s been dreaming about since Cas said goodbye for what he thought was the last time. 

“You ain’t gotta apologize, Cas. Least of all to me. You just caught me off guard, an–and I’ve lost you so many times, y’know?” Dean’s voice is lachrymose and quickly crumbling. He tries to piece himself back together, failing. Cas steps closer, eyes piercing, and Dean rambles on, nervous and desperate and needing.

“I don’t want to lose you ever again. Not in a million damn years, Cas. Before you left, I just wish you heard it clearly from me. After saying those things–all those things I don’t think anybody has ever said to me before, they’ve been replaying in my head nonstop... I don’t deserve you, Cas, but I want you so damn much. I love you. You hear me? I love you, too.” 

Cas nods, on the verge of tears; Dean is crying, and the air is clear. Finally, they can both breathe. Dean lunges forward in the heat of the moment and envelops Cas in a tight embrace. They hold each other for a long while, silent, joyful, until Dean starts laughing in relief. He doesn’t pull away. 

“We got a lot to catch up on, huh? Chuck is mortal, Jack and Amara are ‘in harmony’ apparently, and Sam and Eileen go on vegan dinner dates now. Charlie, Kevin, Bobby, Jody... everybody’s happy. Because we’re free. We’re finally free, Cas.” 

Dean’s words strike Cas in the heart. Freedom. Something he can experience in full now. It feels surreal, being here, with Dean, like this. Dean and Cas pull apart, but only so they can look at each other. They smile, joy bursting at the seams. Slowly, but surely, they lean closer. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. Dean lifts a hand to Cas’ face. Cas grips his arm. They melt and fold into each other. 

Outside the door, Sam and Eileen eavesdrop intently. In the foreground, Jack and Amara stand close by. The conclusion is clear–they smile widely, stand up straight, and walk away together. 

THE FUTURE, AND BEYOND

Time passes gently from now on; the world is peaceful. Monsters no longer roam the planet, and everyone is free to be as they are. Dean and Cas live together alongside Sam, Eileen, and their daughter. Both couples get married soon after Jack’s promotion to God. Charlie and Stevie visit the bunker occasionally, as do Bobby, Jody, and others. They all get therapy and solve their problems in a healthy and comprehensive manner. 

Dean runs an auto mechanic shop with Cas, who has taken up interest in human rights activism. He single handedly destroys all homophobia. Everything is good. Dean, Cas, Sam, Eileen, and all the best characters reunite in Heaven after growing old and living long, where they spend in inextricable joy for all eternity. 

The end.

[rae-arts777]

Who are you?

Summary: welcome, meet ultimate despair Dorothy and Makoto

Notes: what’s this? Rae wrote her Danganronpa X GrePre crossover that’s not as dark as the last one that will never see the light of day? :000

TW: death/blood/world destruction

Again it’s Danganronpa inspire.

~~~~~~~~

Makoto stop mid monologue about how TC were hypocrites. His expression went from a face full of anger, to boredom.

Lowering the sword he yawned and looked up at the ceiling, “Jesus Christ I told you this be boring. Let’s just get on with it already. Their expressions are so plain.”

Everyone in the room looked confused. Akemi looked at Laurent thinking this was part of TC’s plan, Laurent looking at the director thinking it was some act she made Makoto do.

“Hey, bitch I know you can hear me” Makoto continued “Get on with it, or I might just throw myself out the window from boredom”

Familiar laugh to half of TC echo through the room. Laurent’s eye widen, scanning the area fractionally looking. It wasn’t in his head, everyone heard it, even Oz was looking.

The doors swung open and out she step. Flipping her white hair over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkling, her iconic pink lip stick vibrante as ever. But something was off. The way she smiled didnt set off any brightness or joy, it sent a chilling feeling down everyone’s spine.

“Gheez Makoto! Did you have to stop half way? I was actually enjoying your performance!!” Dorothy walked to him and threw her arms around the Japanese man smiling “ah! I could just tell every word you spoke plunge even more despair into all their hearts!! You’re such a good actor! Oh you’ve come such a long way from that kid I found on the streets!” She pulled at his cheeks cooing him.

Annoyed, Makoto pushed her off “It was boring. Their reactions were so predictable.”

Everyone stared in confusion. No one knew what was going on, how did they know each other? Dorothy was alive?

Laurent took a step towards her “Dorothy.? Is it really you?”

“Yup! In the flesh Laurie!” She smiled and grabbed Makoto’s shoulder “and you’ve all meet my little successor Makoto Edamura. Such a talented young man, is he not?”

Oz looked at his son “so this whole time...you-“

“Yes I knew.” Makoto cut him off “I’ve worked under her since you left”

“That long?!” Oz spoke in shock

“Better to teach them when they’re young right?” Dorothy laughed “again, such a talented young man. You have to admit, his performance was phenomenal!!”

Akemi spoke up “I do not understand. Who are you? What is going on?”

The one thing Laurent could agree on with this woman “what is going on.? How do you two know each other.?”

“Right I should probably reintroduce myself” Dorothy pulled out little hair pin, it was the head of a cartoon bear, the left white and the right black. She pinned it in her hair and took a bow

“Dorothy, I’m the ultimate despair. And this!” She gestured to Makoto “it’s Makoto Edmaura, my partner, and the second ultimate despair.” She patted his cheek smiling proudly.

Makoto’s expression remain blank. Everyone looking at the two like they’ve lost their minds.

Abby growled “ok virgin, enough with the games. Did you hit your head or something? Stop this.”

“You’re annoying.” Makoto snapped at her “when you were a suicidal manic you didn’t fear death. So boring. You couldn’t even appreciate the despair that came with death. People like you annoy me”

“I’m going to knock the sense into you!” Abby tried to get up was was still restrain.

However someone did take action.

“ENOUGH OF THIS.” Yao grabbed Makoto by the collar raising his fist “I don’t know what game you’re playing but I have enough.”

Makoto remained unpashed, sighing “shame, you would have been a good blacken for the game”

Dorothy nodded in agreement “well, looks like nothing can be done now.” She pulled out a remote and pressed a button.

A loud buzz was heard through the room. Before anyone knew it, spears came flying, shooting into Yao. He let go of Makoto who step back, a slight smile dancing upon his face.

Everyone looked in horror, as blood ran down the spears, Yao’s body twitching.

“T-the hell...?” He muttered “I don’t....how did you even....? You....damn....bastards...” The spears retracted, and Yao fell to the floor dead.

Ishigami let out of blood curling scream and threw an arm up to shield Akemi, who had her mouth covered in horror.

Laurent knelt down and checked for a pulse, praying this was some elaborate con Makoto set up to get even. There was no pulse. Yao was dead.

Laurent looked up at Dorothy with a pain expression “but...we don’t-“

“We don’t kill people? Old news. Old life. I can’t believe I stuck to those morals, how boring, death is so wonderful” an insane smile danced upon her lips “did you see it Laurie? That expression before he died? Such despair...ahhh!” She hugged herself laughing “such a wonderful feeling! I remember how amazing it felt when I thought I was going to die! The thrill! The excitement! Despair is truly such a wonderful thing!”

Liu step forward, his face stonecold “tell me what is your motivate here? What do you two so call ultimate despairs want?”

“It’s simple really” Makoto explained “as we speak right now, the whole world is falling apart.” He took the remote Dorothy had, making a TV appear. Switching on the channel, everyone’s face snuck into deeper despair.

The world was literally burning. People were rioting, there was death on every corner.

“No that’s not real...” Cythina spoke “there’s no way that’s real.”

“But it is.” Makoto said. “Of course we didn’t do it alone. We had some help.” He switch the board cast again.

Salazar walked away from Casano’s burning mansion, the sounds of gunfire behind him, people of LA rushing to kill each other for the name of despair.

Clark stood in front of his people giving a speech. The crowd erupted of cheers, as everyone took to the city. Fire roar, soaring as high as the planes that flew overhead dropping bombs. Clark watched with a smile as his kingdom fell into despair.

Thomas walked through an art gallery, covered in blood. He walked over to a painting, and smeared the blood on him onto the painting. He smiled recreating the painting in his image. Smiling at his proud work, he took the painting down, and walked out of the gallery. He sat on the bench waiting, and watch as the gallery exploded. People on fire running screaming. He pulled out his paintbrush and started to paint the beautiful despair that London had caught.

Cythina cried and shook her head “no! That can’t be real! Thomas would never do that! Never!”

“But Cythina” Dorothy grabbed her chin smiling “he did. Everything you see is live.”

“We almost forgot” makoto switched the channel “are special little warriors of hope”

Cohen along with the others who were sold the trading company, sat on top of piled of rumble, smiling and watching the adults demise. From their safe haven, they threw water balloons full of gasoline to spread fire below.

“If it was true why hasn’t someone come up to warn us?” Akemi said “I think we hear everything going on, and-“

“That’s cause you’re on an island.” Makoto pulled back the shades to reveal the ocean “that’s a whole other thing but it’s too boring to explain”

Akemi’s face dropped again. She covered her mouth thinking of her son back in Japan. Was he alive?

Oz growled, snatching the sword from Makoto; and pointed it to Dorothy.

“Enough! I don’t know what you’re playing but this is enough!”

“Careful Ozzy” Dorothy’s voice dropped “you don’t want to end up like Yao do you?” She gestured to his dead body.

Oz shook at the venom that dropped from her lips. Slowly lowering the sword he tried to keep a stonecold face.

“Please this isn’t real..” Laurent said stepping towards Makoto “edamame please. You got me ok? We’re even. You can drop the act.”

“If only it was an act” Makoto said “I assure you, this is all true, Laurie.” Makoto pulled out a picture and showed Laurent.

Dorothy with one hand upon a teen Makoto shoulder, and another on Miki Edmaura’s back, they were in the hospital. All of them smiling. There was a get well soon ballon along with flowers by Miki’s bedside.

Laurent wanted to believe it was photoshopped, but, something told him it was very much real.

“She was so nice” Makoto said “the one person I really cared for. But I knew in order for thing to move along, she had to go”

Everyone felt another harsh chill run through their bodies.

“Makoto....” Oz spoke “did you.....kill your mother...?”

“In a way I guess I did. The despair finished the job really. When you’re only child gets taken away to prison while you’re bedridden, it must leave a big empty hole in your heart. I think the despair killed her, not the sickness”

Abby felt herself shaking, in fear, this was not their Makoto.

“Who are you?!” Abby yelled “who the hell are you?!”

Makoto looked at her “My name is Makoto Edmaura, ultimate despair, successor of ultimate despair Dorothy.” A big smile spread across his face.

The first time they seen a smile on this despair Makoto. Makoto’s smile use to bring such brightness, and now...such darkness.

“Welcome contests!!!!” Dorothy spread out her arms smiling “to the very first killing game!!!! Broadcast live across the world!!”

Makoto laughed smiling “will you find that shining hope you think still exist? Or shall you plunge into the claws of despair?”

Anguished filled the room. Everyone stared hopelessly, their lives at the mercy of the ultimate despairs.

[randombtsprincessa]

By the Book

All Rights Reserved. Canon Rights go to @pasteljeon​

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Venom! Kim Namjoon x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 3.3k

Genre: Smut and maybe fluffy? Derivative Work for  Shadows by @pasteljeon​! 

Summary: You may have grown as cold as your work environment. Wierdly enough, it takes an Alien Symbiote to thaw you out.

Warning: Venom AU!; Covert Government Labs, Alien Symbiosis, Arson, fire, smoke, alien heat cycles, not too explicit sexual content, basically sex with Venom! Namjoon.

A/N: This is a small birthday present for my beautiful Kura over at @pasteljeon​. She’s amazing and she’s the creator of the Venom AU which is featured in the following work. I’m sorry this took so long love! I hope you like it! Love you!!

The walls were bright white, reflecting lights so harshly you had to squint. The tight lip of your skirt was uncomfortable around your knees and the heels dug into the back of your ankles but you kept on, pushing your body like you had been doing for so long.

The work you were a part of had no room for luxuries such as comfort and while you would sometimes dearly just like to sit, you learned early on that sitters were losers and the ones who were willing to keep walking or even running actually ran the operations.

Of course, nobody really told you that the sitters would be getting most of the credit.

You took a deep breath before you were pushing on the handle of the Experiment Containment chambers. Separated into seven glass enclosed rooms or chambers per se, you found the person you were looking for at the far back, near the youngest experiment.

You slowed, your eyes taking in the posture of your boss.

She was leaning completely over safety railing, something strictly prohibited – even if she was the lead scientist. Her forehead and palm was pressed to the fogged glass and on the other side, a black, glutinous mass attached to where her palm was splayed.

Jungkook…or better known as 19970901…

You knew you weren’t supposed to give the masses of black substance originated in outer space Human names but it seems your boss and the Head couldn’t help herself. She had given the seven surviving subjects humanity, training…names.

She was a mother to them, and to the youngest of the lot…it always seemed to you, she was much more.

You caught the quick jerk of the black substance, an acknowledgement to your presence just as you called for your Head’s attention.

“The next trial begins in ten minutes. Should I bring the volunteer in?” You asked politely.

She glanced back at the mass that had retreated to the far back of the room, motionless before nodding her head, leading you out.

You followed quietly, sounds of your steps already echoing in the room, attracting attention from the ones that were far less shy.

Symbiosis; a little hidden project funded by the government, returning from the outer space with symbiotes that had alien characteristics but would be able to merge with humans and live off them, enhance them.

The government wanted soldiers obviously but as you looked at the very front, trying hard not to feel emotional for the seven last remaining organisms that had survived the failures of establishing symbiosis with various contenders, you knew they were not meant for a life of war.

The mass at the very front, 19940912, sitting in a pool in front of Jane Eyre definitely wasn’t going to be of much help in a battle field.

You had worked in the Symbiosis laboratory for over three years now, your life as much secret to the outside world as the outside world was a secret to them. Which is why, you had made up your mind early on that feeling any form of emotion for the…alien components that resided in the lab would not only be detrimental…it would be disastrous.

Yet, you couldn’t help but follow along with your boss as she cooed and crooned…and you managed a wry smile at each glop of masses that preened to her praise.

You watched 19921204 cook up delicacies that he and your boss indulged in, 19930309 was given sound cancelling headphones that you handpicked because of his…its extra sensitivity. 19940218, 19951013 and 19951230 were the most humane, bouncing around like teenagers on a power boost.

Among them, 19970901 or as your Head liked to call him, Jungkook – was the closest to her…while 19940912 was the most intriguing.

You had brought more books for this one black mass than you had yourself read over your own life of study and research. Dictionaries, Encyclopedias, nonfiction, fiction, and poetry…Namjoon the Symbiote was probably better read than the most accomplished human scholar.

So when your Head called you in to discuss a very sensitive and urgent matter…you weren’t sure if you were more impressed or less surprised.

Your work as a scientists’ assistant had shown you a lot. You had seen men and women painfully contorting their bodies as black shadows wrapped around them before flickering and dying out within the lifeless eyes of the volunteers. You had personally switched on the incinerators in some of these cases but you had never seen human zeal to liberate alien substances.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” You said, “but you cannot be serious.”

Your boss had her hands deep into the pockets of her white coat.

“It’s a failing endeavor because the symbiotes have come to rely on us. We will have to protect them.”

“They are aliens for god’s sake, ma’am. We cannot just break them out just because we don’t approve what use they’re going to be serving.”

She turned at that. “So, you don’t approve as well.” She shot out immediately.

Your eyes widened as she took hurried steps towards you. “I want you to help me, Y/N. Help me break them out. After me, you are the most close to the symbiotes, even if you don’t want to show it. Help me find better substitutes, people who can hide with them, so no one will ever find them.”

Aside from taking them yourselves, you had no other ways to let them go. You said so.

There was a brief crestfallen look to her eyes before she nodded, dismissing you.

Seven years of hard work, labour, putting up with so much crap…all down the gutter. You watched your boss press the emergency button as the arson spread.

Contrary to what you had previously believed and shrieked about…the Head scientist wasn’t responsible for the fire breaking out. Government insurgencies were something you all had been trained for…but to see one in action.

It scared you to bits.

Your secret plan to smuggle the symbiotes out had somehow worked. You had started with Jin...bound to a woman, a chef teacher is a culinary academy. He had seemed happy enough, wrapping around her as you left the chambers to give them privacy.

Yoongi and Hoseok found homes in what they loved. Music and Dance, both of them attaching themselves to a duo who were hard pressed for money. With their talent, intermingling with theirs, you knew they’d make it big.

Jimin and Taehyung were more complicated. Try as you and your boss may, they flat refused to be seperated. You had no choice but to let them go together. It had taken weeks, nearly a month before a woman strong enough had managed to bond with the entwined set successfully. You had been on edge for all the prospects, withdrawing the half bonded twins from the half dead human before sending them to the infirmary to heal. As broody as they had been on the unsuccessful trials, they had been elated to finally find a perfect match.

That left the last two…still holed up in containment…nowhere to go.

You could feel the smoke puncture through your lungs as both you and your boss fumbled through the see through maze. Your hands seperated, your body too heavy to make through as she found what she was looking for…

Jungkook.

You smiled tearily, stumbling to the last cell left…and collapsing right in front of it.

Y/N

You shuddered, unable to lift your head through the fiery ash flying about.

Y/N…wake up

You managed to look at the glob at last, stretched thin, painted across the glass. It had no face, no aspects but the disembodied voice that floated down to you was concerned.

You’re dying.

“Yeah, no shit.” You coughed, managing to rise up to your hands and knees as the black mass pulsated and pricked, trying to get away from the fire. It made you blink.

For a heat sensitive organism, typical to be afraid of even a lick of fire, it had actually reached out towards you, making sure you were ok.

It was strangely touching.

“I’m rescuing you.” You got to your feet shakily. For something that had shown you enough sympathy to fight through what it was afraid of, you could forward the same courtesy.

Fire Y/N, bad for us.

“I won’t let it touch you.”

What about Jungkook?

You tried not to shiver at the way the name came so easily to it. “He’s safe with the boss. Come on!” You yelled finally but it only cowered away from the blistering haze you exposed it to.

I…can’t.

“Namjoon, please.” You whispered at last. The smoke was making it difficult to breathe. Very soon, you’d have no strength at all.

You’re dying. It said again.

You reached out for the mass again, trying to physically pry it off of the glass walls but you had no clue what gesture it would take it for.

19940912 shot towards you, sharp and fast as a cobra. A jagged edge of black gluton curled around your wrist, the outstretched limb running with black veins as it attempted to sink within you. A surprised groan fell from your lips, feeling the symbiote rush up your body, too fast, too sudden. The veins subsided, the tenril of black settling deep within you that thrummed with life, providing clarity.

“What did you do?” You queried, as with renewed vigor, the symbiote used your body to escape from the burning ruins.

We saved each other.

The plane carried you away, far from your life, far from your career. You symbiosis with 19940912, had been painless, but not without it’s complications.

As you lay on the cool grass, the strength of the alien party had withered, flickered and you wondered if the bond was unsuccessful, and if you two were going to die no matter what happened.

It was quick to put you at ease.

Bond seems strong enough. We will be fine once you expel the smoke from your body, it’s making me antsy.

You rolled over, taking in deeper gulps of the cold night air as you grasped what had happened.

You were now a host to an alien symbiote. You had something…living inside of you.

“Um, 1994 -,”

Namjoon

“What?”

Namjoon; that’s my name.

“Right…Namjoon, how do we go about this?”

What do you mean? We’re bonded now, Y/N. we’re one. You can do anything you want. Be anything you want. You’re free.

“What about you?”

We’re one. Where you go, I go. What you’ll be, I’ll be. I’m free too.

You had left it at that, quietly taking the escape route you had planned well ahead. A small trip to a far off place, somewhere rainy…and foggy. It made sense.

Namjoon…added a definite sense of mystery to your life now. You tried to avoid him and leave him to his business as best as you could but well…he’d been right. You were one.

You could feel him moving up organs inside you when you poured over registers as a librarian. He watched through your eyes as you worked as an assisstant to a Vet. He was insanely protective, bubbling up to the surface of your skin if anything irked him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to say something would glitter in your eyes, some sheen to your skin that was worrisome to you. people that Namjoon of course found, not wholesome to be around his host.

He kept you safe just as much as you provided shelter to him. He read through you, he explored through you.

He also explored you but that was a complete different ball game.

You had somehow forgotten about their heat cycles completely. You had woken to a feverish weight upon you, pressing you into the mattress of your bed. The first sudden scare had vanished completely when a groan, in an all too familiar voice echoed through the room.

“1994?”

“Fuck baby, it’s Namjoon,” He whined, his mouth hot against your ear. He had materialized somehow and while black tendrils over lapped his humanoid form, you could still feel him grinding something against your pelvis that was hilariously human.

“Namjoon…what are you doing?” You were alarmed, least of all, finding it curious that he could just hold form outside of your body and then amused when he dug into your pajamas, finding your heat with first his fingers and then those long vines of shadows attached to him.

It was too dark to make him out but you could tell every human feature. Lips, peppering adoration to your exposed skin as he sunk, in more way that one, into you, his new formed hips bucking without any further ado.

Your alien had put you through two orgasms before reaching his own and dissipated, silence falling over the two of you as you panted loudly.

“Heat…damn, I forgot.”

All you got back was a lazy ghostly chuckle from the being which had dissolved into you again, a simple entwining of black around your fingers his only evidence.

Well, that and the thick mass of his pleasure on your skin.

You didn’t know what had persuaded Namjoon to go looking for his own self. He had become your home more than you were – literally – his. Maybe your boss had been right, wherever she and Jungkook were.

It was easy to fall in love with them. It had been slow for you, too taken with your previous aversion to feeling for them but Namjoon had overcome that. He shared his experiences, well, his version of your experiences and most of your pillow talks were about how you could be better in your works, meeting new people…his old friends.

So when he was suddenly not there when you woke up, you nearly shrieked.

Namjoon had felt your discomfort from the next room. A black mass crawled into the room before his voice echoed back, calming you down.

I’m right here. it’s all good. I was just trying new things.

You had been so relieved you didn’t address that he had been in another room – away from you.

“How did you even do that?”

I was reading and I think…with enough nourishment…and of course close proximity to my Host…I could materialize. You know, outside of my heat.

It had been tricky but you and he were both patient. It started with Namjoon knitting strands of his being together as he would during his heat cycles. A tendril always remained at your wrist, holding onto you as he gained form by himself.

It was hard work but it paid off.

2 YEARS LATER

You kept a steady look down at your wrist, watching the second hand tick down to a minute before standing; eyes fixed across the small bedroom to the bathroom, hearing the lock give way.

A man stepped out, tall, broad, with thick limbs and light gold hair that fell right down to his nose. The simple black tee and sweatpants looked big on him somehow as if he wasn’t used to filling them and life yours had been, his eyes were on his feet and hands as well.

You took a careful step forward.

“1994…I mean, Namjoon?” you chanced, your long habit of referring to them by their codenames having faded into the long time you’d been away from your workplace.

The man looked up, blinking and whipping hair out of his face. His head moved too fast, bouncing off of the doorway painfully that cause the man’s form to haze out, come away black for more than a few seconds before freezing and slowly dissolving back into human.

You blew out a huff, taking another step.

“Y/N,” he grated out, voice whispery and hoarse.

“Yes,” You took another step, hand outreached and his fingers moved, clasping around your pulse, physical contact established after ages of experimentation, research and explorations.

Dimples appeared in tanned cheeks as Namjoon gave you a small smile. “I can do it. I can actually hold form outside of my heat.” He whispered.

“That’s great,” you whispered back, looking up at him, not used to actually talking to him while looking at another body.

He let go of your hand, moving further into the room, arms outstretched to catch him if he fell. You followed closely behind.

“I…I’m big, aren’t I?”

Instead of out loud, you heard him inside your head.

“Yes, Namjoon, you’re big. You’re a person now.” You said.

He turned, still slow before impishly moving in to wrap his arms – carefully – around you. “Sex is going to be easier and more fun now.”

This time, he spoke out loud, his voice still scratchy but adorably shy as he leaned in to press small hesitant kisses down your neck. Of course, this time it being the first time he was in a human body of his very own, he had to bend over quite a bit.

You tried not to roll your eyes, barely masking a moan when Namjoon’s tongue lapped across your collarbone.

“Are you sure, you can…?” You lead him to the bed, just in case he fell over in his excitement and took you down with him.

His eyes glazed, he sat down from your touch, looking up at you in confusion before following your gaze to where his legs were gone, replaced with black huge stumps, clawed toes visible. He closed his eyes, the stump reducing back to human nails, wiggling them at you.

I might explode a few times but that just means I’m enjoying it. He leaned in to give you a hearty kiss.

His hands explored, gripping at your breast through the shirt, his fingers reflexively clenching the fabric before going under the skirt, finding the crotch of your panties.

Without his heat, Namjoon was much more controlled and you waiting patiently as he explored you with his own body, letting him familiarize himself with touch and sensation.

Maybe you were selfish, maybe you wanted him to get used to control so he could hold himself in his newly gained human form long enough to blow your mind, but hey, you had seen firsthand what the man who’d attached himself to you could do and you were hopeful.

So you lay back, enjoying Namjoon’s hands, and then his mouth on your skin.

Once attached to you, he didn’t seem to want to let go as he kept kneading at your flesh with his large palms. He found your breasts, freeing them from your shirt and letting his fingers pull at your nipples, all with an expression of curiosity on his face.

All he wanted to see was how far he could push it before he wavered, he told you, and shedding more of his own clothes then yours, staring at your naked, spread form in front of him.

Not akin to his heats, when he pounced ravenously on you, he was slower, gentler. Every stroke of his fingertips was calculated.

It was at the juncture of your thighs, his fingers dipping to find arousal seeping from you when he first moaned…and simultaneously dissolved into a puddle of black.

“Joon,” You called apprehensively before the strands of black were knitting together again, gaining skin, or whatever comprised of their skin before giving you another impish grin.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself anymore.” He revealed, lowering himself, almost reverently into you.

You let him.

Namjoon bucked, huffed; thrust himself into you with iron hold, precise in his movements, losing form only twice, once when he entered you and then when he was close.

Finally when he exploded, there was nothing over you, even as you felt his climax splash across you.

By the time he collected himself again, ready for cuddles, you’d cleaned up and changed the sheets, snuggling closer to him.

“I’ll practice, I promise.” He whispered.

“I believe in you.” You whispered back.

You did, seeing what you’d seen with Namjoon over the years, you knew that going rogue had been the best decision of your life. Maybe you were never meant for something ordinary.

[vikingsagine]

The Sacrifices I Have Made (Ivar x Reader)

I don’t know how I feel about this one. It’s darker and more dramatic and Idk if I like the way its written, but yeah. This one is a bit, weow okay, that got real....Anyways, yeahh. Ivar is sexy. Alex is an amazing actor and so fkn sexy like bruh...that’s not even fair. And I just realised, I called Ubbe, Ubba, oops.

Summary: You and Ubbe end up fighting because you discover where Ivar is and you decide to return to his side. But you also find out, Hvitserk has a big mouth...

Warnings: Okay, this is a darker chapter. RAPE. FIGHTING. BLOOD. MORE BLOOD. You have been warned. Mind you, its Vikings sooo, yeh.

(I just realized Lagertha raped King Harald, huh...)

“You can’t leave.” Ubbe demanded, his staunch figure standing in the doorway of your home. You were packing your gears, weapons, clothes, food and what was left of your coin. You knew this was going to happen but made no move to fight Ubbe. “You said you would come with me and Torvi to Iceland. You promised.” 

“I don’t have time for this Ubbe.” You avoided his eye contact, strapping the bag over your shoulder and gripped the fur coat made of animal skin. It was already winter and where you were headed was far but also dangerous. If you played your cards right and left in time, you would be fine. But for that, Ubbe had to leave you alone. 

“I can’t let you go.” Ubbe clamped his hand over your forearm, preventing your calm exit as you tried to stay civil. If things continued this way, you knew it wouldn’t end well. Both of your eyes locked, his filled with determination and yours were the same. “If you leave, Bjorn will send men to find you. He will kill you.” You ripped your arm from his and stepped back.

“Even so, I need to find Ivar and you know that.” 

“You promised you’d come with me and Torvi, you said-” 

“Yes, I promised you that. I promised I would go if Ivar’s whereabouts remained unknown. But, I know he is alive and in Russ.” Ubbe was surprised by your response, staring into the sole of your eyes like, ‘How do you know that?’ You already knew Ubbe had this information, you knew he lied to you, he kept the information locked away. After you told him that one day you would return to Ivar’s side, Ubbe didn’t take it so kindly. “Hvitserk told me. Now move.” You pushed passed Ubbe and stepped out of your house, heading towards the mountain side exit. 

“I can’t let you escape Y/N. Your position remains here.” Ubbe called from behind you, the sound of his blade grazing the ground and his breathing grew heavy. You turned around and placed your bag to the side, knowing well you wouldn’t leave here unless you’d somehow deal with the tall, blonde and blue eyed man. 

“If you want me to stay, you better plan on killing me.” You held your axe in hand and the long metal blade in the other. He chuckled lightly and took slow steps towards you. You couldn’t help but get excited and quickly darted to the male, swinging both weapons instinctively. 

“Always the first one to attack, so impatient.” He mocked. Both staring each other in the eye, weapons pushed against each other, holding your ground. Ubbe dropped his axe and swung it under your right foot, knocking you down. Before his weapon dug into your chest, you rolled to the side, swiveled on the balls of your knees and went for a strike to the rib. 

“That’s because you’re a bitch.” 

“And who is the one on their knees?” He knocked your long edged sword from your hand and you quickly jumped to your feet, taking in deep breaths. Ubbe spat on the ground, challenging you to attack once again. 

“You wish horsetail.” Ubbe stepped forward, body lunging in a long extension and went for the obvious attack to your stomach but you swatted the metal blade, kicked his side and stopped your axe just before his throat. “How many times do I have to tell you? You have to be faster than that.” Ubbe growled and batted the axe away, turning on his heel to decapitate your head but you quickly ducked. 

Your sudden decision to leave wasn’t just because you found out where Ivar was. It was because of the constant dream-like visions. You saw ice and snow. A village built tall and strong but miles and miles of white. Inside was your crippled friend, laying in bed with healthy sighs and sturdy breathing. You could tell, he needed you though he might not know it. And you made a final decision to return to his side where you belonged. You just hoped that it didn’t have to end in you spilling any more blood then there already was, not when you didn’t have to. 

“I can’t let you go. I don’t care if your fate is to be beside Ivar, I won’t let you go.” Ubbe spoke through shallow breaths and a bleeding temple. You were in no better shape. Your lip was busted and your jaw ached, if it weren’t for the bolting adrenaline the pain would have taken more effect. Both of you had no axe or sword or anything in hand, all scattered too far away to actually reach and use. Your heart was torn. Ubbe has always been there for you, he was just as much as family as Ivar was to you. And no matter how a part of you wanted to stay, leave with him to Iceland or rather ‘paradise’ and depart from this life of fighting and survival, your heart screamed to be beside Ivar once again. After everything, you still wanted him. 

“I’m sorry Ubbe. Truly, I am.” Spitting out saliva, you raised your wrist to your face and wiped away the dripping blood. “But you know very well, I don’t belong here. You have to let me go.” His hissed at the words like he had been stabbed with a knife coated in snake venom. Then without hesitation, he threw a punch to your head, you blocked and returned the favor. He tackled you to the ground and wrapped his legs around your waist from your back, while his arms suffocated your neck. He prevented movement from your legs and restricted the flow of your body, squeezing the air out of your lungs. 

“Do you have no dignity?” Ubbe whispered in your ear, grip around your body firm as steel. You tried to pry the lock of his long arms, off but it was difficult. Your lungs began to burn and blood rushed to your face. “After everything he has done to you, you go back.” Ubbe was trying to reason with you, make you see the fault in your need to return to Ivar. He knew everything and he hated how you were so tied to his little brother, how his hooks were so deep in you. He wanted you to stay by his side because you were like blood. “Hvitserk told me everything.” Something sparked within you, a newfound determination and the gears inside your head kicked in. Like wheels, they spun and whizzed, analyzing the situation in a snap of fingers. You pulled Ubbe's mane from the bottom of his hair, yanking it to the point where his grip loosened and you popped your elbow into his stomach. Ubbe reluctantly let go and you rolled yourself free to finally catch air. 

Hvitserk told me everything.

Hvitserk told me everything.

Everything.

Told me.

Everything.

~~~

“You called for me?” You entered the room with no windows, a room solid and cold but with a cripple sitting and waiting. It was odd. He usually sits in the hall where everyone can be seen and lacks privacy. Perhaps because of his win over the great heathen army it had given him paranoia. Or perhaps it was because he humiliated his older brother Ubbe. Or perhaps because Hvitserk stayed by his side. You did not know. “What is it cripple? You want to fuck?” You joked, resting your bow and arrows to the side.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I’d be better off fucking a pig.” Ivar joked and made you roll your eyes. You two had a complicated relationship. Right now, you were fuck buddies. Well, you were his fuck buddy while he was the man you were madly in love with. You couldn’t confess your feelings, since you promised him you wouldn’t fall for him. In the beginning, he specifically wanted to fuck. He said he couldn’t see himself with a woman like you. “You remember White Hair and his men?” Ivar motioned to the men at his side, eyes focused somewhere other than your form. You nodded towards them in acknowledgment.. One tall and quite big but old. The other two were young. You remembered White Hair. He fought nobly and bravely. “They have earned my trust and my allegiance.”

“Okay?” You were confused about your place here. You won the battle, great. Ivar gained new allegiances, good for him. He won the great heathen army, spectacular. But did you really need to be here? No, not really. “If you don’t have anything important to discuss with me, I will return to training your army. So please, save your boasting for your brother.” You turned on your heel and went to head back.

“You promised you’d do anything for me..” Ivar stopped you in your tracks and he gained your attention. “Do you still feel the same way?”

“Yes, of course. I don’t understand-”

“Don’t fight.” He finally pierced into your skeptical orbs, bright and blue. So beautiful. Annoyingly stunning. On the surface you appeared to be calm and collected, on the inside your heart melted at how they reminded you of jewelry. Eyes like Sapphire.

“Excuse me?” You were brought back into reality when the men suddenly took closer and predatory strolls to you. Looking at you like a piece of meat. Something they could take and claim. It pushed your buttons and immediately you drew out your sword from its scabbard, threatening them. 

“What is this Ivar? You said we could have the girl.” Something inside dropped. An overwhelming feeling that shook your bones. Not fear or anxiety. No. It was disappointment and disbelief. The older  peered over to their new leader, annoyed and growing impatient. Ivar reached for his crutch's and approached your figure, not daring to look into your eyes.

“I gave my word to these men.” Ivar touched your shoulder, eyes filled with guilt and displeasure. He did not dare to even see your reaction. He knew it would break him. He knew if he’d take another look at you, he would break the alliance. But the fire inside for his ambitions and his dream overthrew such emotions. And he straightened his back and held his gaze tight on the space in front. “Their loyalty and men for wealth and, and-”

“Me.” You finally pieced the puzzle together. It was an unfortunate truth. One that caused great pain but did not waver your fidelity. You felt a sharp pain travel to your heart, throat becoming dry as tears clouded your clear vision. “I understand.” You simply stated then threw your weapon to the side, shrugging Ivar’s hand off your shoulder in disgust. His touch still filled you with warmth and joy and swarming nerves. You weren’t disgusted in Ivar, you were disgusted in yourself. You were a strong woman. Everyone knew that and were intimidated by it. Every man that has met your path, every enemy is now cold and dead. Each one cut down and beaten bloody or slaughtered mercilessly from your hands. You were a woman of pride and no one could take that away. Or so you thought. Ivar was gone without a second word, his figure disappearing with a click of the door. He left you with sharks looking for a quick fix of your sweetness. The part of you that no one could take. You pushed the tears away, slowing the beat of your heart and wore the dutiful mask you used when committing your responsibilities. The man no older than you stepped in first, hesitant yet excited. He reached for your armor in a rush but you quickly stopped him, swatting his hands away. “I will take my armor off. That is mine.” They nodded in agreement. If they could take your virtue, the gift between your legs that you once had the choice over. You would not let them take your armour. Not like this. Fingers shaking, you stripped the tight leather of your clothes and it dropped. 

Shame.

The fighting part of you  screamed and struggled. Wanting so badly to rip their heads off. Wanting to feel the wetness and warmth of their blood. To hear their cries. Yearning for the satisfaction of their lifeless corpses. You threw the remaining material of your long shirt to the ground. Cool and fresh air hitting the miles of free skin. White Hair and his sons looked at one another, lust filled and proud. There were many men who pined to be in their position, not because you were the most beautiful but because you were an untamed bitch. A wild horse they would ravish and ride. “I will very much enjoy this.” White hair spoke loudly and pulled the strong woman to his body, squeezing and groping areas he had been dreaming of.  

Dishonor.

Tristian, the youngest of the men, had yet to lose his virginity. He is the son of White Hair. Tristian inhaled your sight, impressed by the marvelous sight of your imperfect skin. The body of a true shield-maiden. Not smooth or ragged, just the right thing. Scars and slight muscular arms and legs, but not thin like other women. He noticed you had meat in certain areas and his prick grew hard. “I can’t believe the cripple had all this to himself.” He muttered under his breath, curious hands gripping the back of your ass and slapped. His Father was already leaving his mouth wide open and wet kisses down your body, sucking harshly and biting down with force normal women would have yelped. But you remain stiff and frozen, daring not for them to hear your voice. 

Weak.

Leif, a meaty man,  older brother to Tristian. He wasn’t fond of raping women but he was very eager to fuck a girl worthy of his cock. A strong-willed woman. One like fire. He watched your face, saw the growing anger but also pain. He ogled how you remained cold and emotionless, just like how he discussed with his men. He and his friends joked once during the big feast to victory. He cupped your sex and eagerly pumped his finger, waiting for a reaction which he earned. You gasped and glared down at him. 

Betrayal.

Hvitserk stood outside the door, finding himself in an odd predicament. He tumbled upon the screams and shrieks of a woman coming from a small room. He also heard the sound of skin slapping skin, the groans of men and their vulgar language. Hvitserk was searching for his brother, wanting to know their plan to invade York and instead came across an intense sex session. With a sudden wave of curiosity, he decided to peek through the keyhole. The brown haired man was left stunned, opening his mouth wide as he saw yourself. Three men taking their share turn of fucking you. White Hair and his sons. At first he was mind blown and silently congratulated you for having fun, until he noticed the difference in your screams and the relentlessness of their thrusts. They were merciless and hard. Laughing with one another and mocked the way you were crying and begging. He was ready to knock the door down and slaughter the men for raping you like that. Of course he would, you were like family. A friend. A sister. That’s until he noticed the sword placed centimetres away from you, it was easy to grab and you could have killed the men like nothing. 

Rape.

You were left alone. Body scarred with new bruises, pride and ego taking most of the pain. They left you naked, dirty with their cum and limp. You felt like a corpse. Dead on the inside and a part of you wished it to be true. Wished that they had slaughtered you instead of taking your womanhood from you. Not only did your body burn from agony, but your sex burned like your body had been ripped apart. 

“Y/N?” You snapped your attention towards Hvitserk who stood at the door frame, looking at you with pity but also anger. You quickly pulled your naked self up and ignored the burning pain between your legs, hands aiming for your clothes. With an attempt to stand to your feet, you hissed loudly and fell. Thankfully Hvitserk caught you and wrapped you in his cloak. 

“What are you doing here? Get out!” You demanded and grew ashamed. You felt weak. You felt as if the Gods were looking down at you in such disappointment. You feared the Valkyrie would no longer take you to the gates of Valhalla. 

“Why did you let them rape you? Why did you dishonor yourself like that?” His words cut deep. Dishonor. Was it dishonorable if you did it for the sake of your people and the man you loved? You did not know and instead, pulled yourself away from Hvitserk and gripped the coat closer to your being.

“Tell Ivar the allegiance is a success and that I will not be able to train his army.” 

~~~

A shriek shrill tore through the summer morning, the birds awoke and flew far away. In the small cottage where the sound came and the women rushed, there was panic and pain. All you saw was specs of black and white, dots zooming passed like flies as every fiber of your being tore open. Another wave of pain dismissed and you relaxed for a second. Your Mother was beside you, holding your hand and ordering the frantic woman to stay calm. 

“Almost done, one more push. Just one more.” Your Mother soothed into your ear but it flew out the other. Your body felt like it was splitting in half. You rather be shot by an arrow or scorched by fire or stabbed in the stomach, not once or twice, multiple times. 

“Please, please. I can’t. I can’t.” You begged, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and your breath hitched again. Another wave of scorching pain taking over. You threw your head back and dung your nails into the sheets and the flesh of your Mother. “Ahhh! Fuck.” Giving the last bit of strength left, you pushed with all your might. The living thing between your legs slipping out and its sudden cry cursed your ears. Relief hit you like a bullet, dropping onto the sweaty and bloody sheet of the mattress you could finally relax. Without a second to spare, your Mother had left your side and was now cooing at the thing that was your child. The thing you dreaded all your life. Children weren’t a part of your plan. You knew having children would be a hassle because of the road you chose, the journey you had to take. But here you were, a Mother to a raped-born baby. An abomination.

“It’s a girl. A sweet little girl.” Your Mother adored the body of fat and new life in her arms, admiring such a little creature. You were very curious and had an instant need to hold the child, but you remembered Ivar. The great heathen army. The attack on Kattegat that was only moons away. Where you belonged. “Here.” Illiah, your Mother attempted to hand your child to you upon meeting your gaze but you declined.

“No, no. Get it away from me. Please.”

“Y/N, it’s your baby-”

“I don’t care, take it away. Just get it away from me. Please.” The older woman looked at you, her daughter, with sorrow and pity. Understanding your choice but also hating it. She knew your position, your dedication to a man she didn’t even know. And instead insisted that she, the baby and the nurses leave your tired figure alone. 

As soon as there was no one around, you let out a loud sob. Here you were, again, suffering. Alone and in pain. Your heart didn’t break, but it felt fragile and weak. So much that perhaps a simple poke to the chest could cause it to cave and shatter. Curling your body into the sheets, you let out a loud cry and sobbed into the pillows. 

~~~

“Hvitserk told me everything, Y/N.” Ubbe repeated once again, staring at you with those light and blue eyes. His words brought back the pain of the past. The past you were so desperately trying to escape. You leaned over and punched Ubbe in the mouth. “He told me about White Hair and your baby.”

“Shut up, just shut up.” Crying out with little too much emotion, your fist came back up and pummeled into his face. Desperately searching for something that wasn’t there. Perhaps it was forgiveness. Ubbe pushed you off of him and climbed on top of you, knocking his forehead into yours with a rush of force. But you wouldn’t let him win, instead you kneed him in the balls and pushed his body into the dirt. “You don’t understand Ubbe, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My brother had you raped and made you leave your child. Why do you crawl back to him like a directionless bitch? Do you not have honor or self-dignity?” He kicked you as you came hurling onto his body, rolling over to reach for his axe. 

“And why do you care so much? I’m starting to think you might be in love with me.” You couldn’t help yourself. There was no lid to your mouth nor will there ever be. You laid on your back, eyes closed as you felt the sting of his kick. “Say, are you in love with me pretty boy. Truly I’m honored but you have a wife and a child coming alone, I don’t know how that would work.” You yelped as his figure came out of nowhere and swing his axe like a sledgehammer onto your body.

“Why do you give so many things up for my brother?” He took another thrust of his weapon. “Why do you sacrifice yourself for him when he treats you like nothing?” He was on top of you, pushing the blade into your throat as you pushed back. This is not how you were supposed to die. “Tell me!” Ubbe screamed and one last time attempted to cut into your skull. You quickly punched his throat which made him choke and crumble beside you.

“Because he is my destiny.”

 You yelled back and smashed a rock onto his head. Hard enough for him to grow unconscious and stop fighting. His head pooled with blood but you knew he wouldn’t die. After a few seconds of catching your breath, you kissed the sweet man on the cheek and whispered. 

“And because I have to kill him.”

@soleil-dor @youbloodymadgenius @cececolber @heavenly1927

[lucas-lowe]

TASK 2: IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

July 2010.

Luke idly glared at the retreating dark of the dawn. His stomach let out a pathetic growl, or more accurately, a dying squeak. There comes a point in starvation where you can’t even sleep because of the hunger, and Luke was far too familiar with that pang.

The earth beneath his back was stiff and cold like a cadaver, and he could not think of a reason to get up. His head knew he should go look for food, something to eat-- like one of those small rat like creatures he saw in the woods, a fish swimming in the stream, the berries he ate a few days ago that made him threw up all night. Anything. If he couldn’t find anything to eat, he at least needed to get water. But no, his body didn’t want to move.

Luke coughed off a weak laughter, wheezing at this madness. He was stranded in some kind of an island, like that guy Crusoe in the book, with a group of lunatics who were probably in some cult-- something about elements and the First and not aging. As soon as his ankle healed, he slipped out of the camp and made his way to the west edge of the land. 

The trouble was, Luke didn’t know a thing about surviving in the nature. He was a city boy through and through. Even when he was without a home, he could have dumpster-dived and scavenged for food in the city. No such option on this godforsaken island. He didn’t know how to hunt or fish, didn’t know what berries are edible or not. He couldn’t even start fire for fuck’s sake.

Perhaps he should have stayed with the cultists, learn a thing or two about the island living. But no, his tendency to isolate himself got to him again, and he would probably die out here.

December 1997.

The night descended on the open road, breathing down the chilled air on his neck. The cold crept up to his blistered feet, seeped into his shivering bones, and he feared that he was marked for life. The ghost of a white breath danced before his eyes before vanishing without a trace. A raggedy backpack, a half-empty water bottle and a few pieces of clothing were all he had.

Empty-handed and alone, yet he had persisted for almost a year on his own. But for how long? He ran out of his saving months ago. He doubted that his family was looking for him-- if they ever bothered to, that is-- but he couldn’t be too careful with the Lopes. He couldn’t live on the streets forever, either. That’s why he was bound westward, to find a better life for himself. Start anew.

No car had passed by for hours, so he had given up any hope of hitchhiking to the closest town, and had started walking. He was under no illusion that he would get anywhere like this. It was just that he had nothing but his own two legs, and walking was all he could do.

He stopped to catch his breath as his bad leg started to ache. “What the fuck...” he said out loud just to remember his own voice. What the fuck am I doing? Since he couldn’t afford a bus ticket, he reasoned his options were either hitchhiking or walking. But this was his only pair of shoes and it had already started to show wear and tear. He didn’t even own a map so he just had a vague idea that he was heading west. He was, absolutely and completely, un-fucking-prepared for this journey.

A shaky sigh escaped from his cold, empty stomach as he dropped his backpack and flopped down next to the empty road. Up above his head was the cruelly brilliant sky full of stars, and the vast wilderness stretched as far as he could see, but his eyes lingered on the cracks of the asphalt. He knew there was nothing for him out there-- no star watched over him, no light guided his path, and no one was coming to save him.

He had nowhere else to turn but himself.

He should feel sad, or scared, but all he could do was laughing at himself. The truth of the matter was, he was far too talented at isolating himself in a self-destructive way. He knew that. He could have easily asked for a help, but he didn’t. He could have picked a safer, less strenuous journey, but he didn’t. He simply didn’t know how to exist any other way.

The stars burned bright above. He just didn’t look up. There were lights in the distance. He just closed his eyes. Maybe, and just maybe, someone was out there waiting for him-- he just refused to believe that. That very thought scared the life out of him. It was so much easier to hide alone in the dark, not found, not missed, not needed and wanted and loved. No one could hurt him if they couldn’t found him.

So how could he not laugh at himself? This was his own fault, no one else’s.

He breathed in the frigid, forlorn air, let it filled his lungs, and got back up to his own two feet. He stretched his creaking legs, cracked his neck, and turned his eyes forward.

He dug himself into this grave and laid himself down. So it was his job to claw his own way out.

May 1995.

[tw: gun, death]

The sun came up nevertheless, even after a sinful night.

Almost everyday, he watched the frozen colors of daybreak painting the sky. Waking up in the morning, on his way to the training or on the track, he had seen it until it became a part of his routine. But until today, he didn’t realize how painstakingly beautiful it was.

A man just died by the hands of another, yet the dawn was terribly radiant.

“You okay there, kid?” asked Pablo as he lit a cigarette. Pablo was a tall guy with the unkempt, bushy beard, and always smelled like a mix of smoke and horribly musky cologne. He was one of Father’s henchmen, the trusted kind.

Leaning against the hood of the car, he fixed his dry eyes on the sunrise without words. He didn’t know how he was, to be honest. He could still taste the last night’s dinner in his throat after throwing it all up. His body was sore and he could use a shower or ten. So no, he wasn’t okay. 

They had arrived at this riverbank a few hours ago as three. Now they were only two. ‘Take care of it’. That was Father’s order. 

He quietly ran a thumb on his blistered, dirt-covered palm.

-----

“You know how to use this?” Pablo asked, holding out a grip of a loaded gun. They stood over the brand new grave in the field, both of them covered in sweat and dirt. He never liked guns. Having the weight that could end someone’s life in his hands wasn’t exactly pleasant.

And then Pablo dragged out the third man from the trunk of the car. Blindfolded, tied and gagged. Pablo forced them down on them knees. Their bloodied head and shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. They reeked of desperation and piss, squeezing out a muffled, incomprehensible plead.

He unlocked the safety and cocked the gun just like his brother taught him. ‘Man, your aim’s terrible.’ He remembered Leandro’s crooked laughter when he had managed to hit none of the beer bottles set up as practice targets. He brought the gunpoint up to the back of the captive’s skull. The shudder crawled up the barrel and grasped at his hand like barbed vines.

The cry morphed into a terrible howl, held back only by the spit-soaked gag. It begged and begged and begged for mercy, while spewing fear and rage and curse.

And he wondered, do any other animal beg for their life? Do they experience the same primal hatred that burns in your chest, the ashy black smoke of grudge you exhale at the one who holds your noose? Not just the instinct of self-preservation expressed in aggression, but the acute malice humans carry like a venom.

Because he wished he couldn’t understand what was buried underneath the scream.

Please, I’ll do anything.

He wished he couldn’t feel a thing.

I don’t wanna die.

His finger wrapped around that trigger and--

He lowered the gun, only to realize that he was covered in cold sweat. He couldn’t pull it. It wouldn’t take much force to squeeze that trigger. Just a tiny movement of the finger, and the gun would roar, and all this would be over. That was the impossibly thin line he couldn’t cross, the infinitesimal difference between a man and a killer.

He fumbled at the safety, shivering. His hand was locked in place and couldn’t let go of the gun.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” said Pablo, approaching him gingerly. A much bigger hand gently peeled his off the gun.

He stumbled backward as his knees gave in. The captive was now sobbing. From relief or panic, he couldn’t tell. But before he could process it, he heard the mechanical click, followed by a gunshot. With his ears ringing, he stared blankly as the headless body fell into the grave with a thud.

-----

“For what it’s worth,” Pablo started, polluting the fresh morning air with his cloud of smoke. “I thought this whole thing was fucked up.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the sunlight shattering against the surface of the murky river. No speck of cloud wandered in the sky above, and it would be the perfect sunny day of May. The air smelled of cigarette and late night rain. Three or so ducks swam about in the water, quacking without a care in the world. No care at all.

“Hey, don’t worry about your father,” Pablo blurted out. “I’m not gonna rat you out.”

“...okay.” He wasn’t particularly worried about Father. He thought whatever would happen would happen. What he didn’t understand was why would Pablo take a risk like that. He was just too tired to question it. “Thanks.”

The weight shifted as Pablo walked over to his side and sat down on the hood of the car. “Want some?” He extended a stick of cigarette.

He stared at the wrinkled packet in Pablo’s big hand, and then back toward the river. “I can’t.”

“What? You’re old enough.”

“No,” he said, “I run tracks. Can’t fuck up my lungs with that cancer sticks.”

“Oh,” Pablo thought for a second before putting out the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Pablo fished out a pack of gum instead. Without asking, the older man handed one over to him. Instead of unwrapping it, he just stared at it in silence. It was mint. 

Disgustingly, his empty stomach demanded food with a grumbling. He recognized in a sick sense of detachment, that nothing had changed. The morning still came. The sky didn’t collapse. They could still talk about insignificant things. He still wanted a breakfast. Maybe no red meat, not at least for a few days, but he was still hungry.

And that moment, he realized that absolutely nothing would change if he were to die. The world would continue regardless.

July 2010.

Luke jolted out of his sleep. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t have been out longer than a few minutes. The sun was still rising toward the east, and the sky was ablaze with cold amber. He rose to his feet and dragged himself toward the western cliff of the island. Might as well watch the sunrise, he thought. 

Just when he reached the end of the land, it occurred to him that he should have gone toward the east for the sunrise. His brain must have gone on a hunger strike or something. 

Standing by the edge, he looked down into the mouth of the ocean, its jagged teeth and dark depth. That’s a long way down, he thought. The ocean collided into the land and shattered, crying out in the cacophony of waves. The light was yet to reach this side of the world, but gradually and surely, the boundless firmament was waking up. From the fading darkness emerged thin whisks of clouds. He sat down by the cliff, and aimlessly watched the clouds traveling westward, toward the horizon and beyond.

Even on this god-knows-where island, the world was as always infuriatingly and unabashedly beautiful. It taunted him, a tiny, meaningless blob of existence compared to its marvel, that it didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck my life,” he sighed to himself, laying back down and promptly finding the cliff to be the worst place to lie down. More clouds rushed by him toward the ocean, carried by the salty, lukewarm wind.

Death didn’t scare him-- not in the way it should, anyway. He knew it didn’t matter if he died here or not. He could starve himself to death, eat a poisonous berry, get eaten by a... whatever the fuck that lived in the Jungle, or jump off the cliff-- and the world would not care.

It’s just that, to him, death felt like admitting defeat.

Luke shot his final glare at the audaciously bright sky. He survived his family. He survived the streets-- hell, he was thrown into the ocean with bricks tied to his leg, and that didn’t kill him. Surely, it would take more than an island away from the civilization (and with possible cultists) to kill him.

So he got back up to his feet, as he always did, ready for another day of hunger.

[metaphysical-human-being]

Switcheroo

Pt1

Pt2

A/N- Okay so you all remember this headcanon, right? Well, anyway, I loved it so much that I decided to make it a series? I don’t know how long it’ll go but, yeah! Also, I’m not the best writer so sorry in advance!

Warnings- death mention, abandonment mention, guilt mention, nightmare mention, swearing. Tell me if I missed any others!

Summary- Roman and Remus reunite after four years…

It doesn’t go well

Remus zoomed down the hallway, smile on his face and madness in his eyes. He could hear the voices of a few of those dipshits chasing him but he didn’t really care. He knew they’d never catch him and if they did..

Well, let’s just say that he won’t be the one wobbling away with a busted lip and a broken nose. 

He turned the corner and looked around wildly. The voices were getting a bit closer and as much as Remus would willingly fight them, it was his first day and De would be really mad if he got expelled on his first day again-

“There he is! Get him!” He heard the “leader of the pack” yell. He snuck a glance behind him and shot them a crazed smile before taking off running once more. He ran up a flight of stairs and hopped over a few kids skipping class but they never caught him. They got close, but never got him. 

Turning onto a random hallway, he spot two large double doors. A sign saying Auditorium directly above them.

“Perfect!” He mumbled before opening them and closing them quietly. He waited a few seconds to catch his breath before pushing his ear to the door. 

“I think he went this way!” He heard one of the guys call from the end of the hallway. He listened to them run closer and closer to the doors. They stopped right outside the auditorium and Remus heard them discuss going inside. He backed away from the door and looked down the long rows of chairs. Velvety red and plush looking. Kinda comfy. Maybe he could come in here during free periods to nap…

He looked over to the stage before running through the aisles and hopping onto it. The doors opened and he heard the guys walk in. Remus ducked behind the curtains and crouched down as small as possible. 

Just then, someone walked onto the stage. 

“Garrett! And poise…what can I do for you fine gentleman on this beautiful January day!” The loud yet… familiar voice boomed. Something inside Remus seemed to stir but he didn’t pay attention. He only payed attention to the voices. 

“Roman, a pleasure as always.” The main guy, Garret, sneered. 

Remus felt all the air in his lungs leave his body and he had to uncurl from his crouched position to sit down instead. A dread filled his stomach and he kinda felt like throwing up.

Roman?! Roman?! Like, the twin he tricked, Roman? That one? Remus didn’t know he went to this school! Or…maybe he doesn’t? Yeah! Maybe he doesn’t and Remus is just overreacting!

He peaked his head out from behind the curtain, enough to look at the teen in the middle of the stage and…oh ever-fucking Zeus..

It was Roman. He hadn’t seen him since they were twelve and Remus…

At first Remus thought that it wasn’t him but then he saw that deep and prominent dimple on his right cheek and his fiery red hair. (“Just like the Weasley twins!” Ms. Malevolent would always say.  “I’m trouble!” Remus would say. “And I’m double!” Roman would always say after him and then they’d laugh and laugh. Hey…at least neither of them were dead).

Although the clothes were definitely strange to Remus. He had only ever seen Roman in rags and hand me downs, never anything new. Unlike the bright white t-shirt and…Remus guessed maroon pants and the bright Adidas, the only non-new looking thing was…was the sports jacket Remus found when they were ten. 

It was way too big for Roman but now that he was older it fit pretty well. Remus was surprised he still kept it 

“It usually is! Now, why are you here, exactly? I know none of you have drama as an elective and you all definitely aren’t trying out for the school play so…” Roman trailed off, a sense of confidence in his voice that Remus always admired. It didn’t surprise Remus that Roman was in drama either. His twin always loved being the center of attention and putting on little plays for Remus and all the other kids in the orphanage whenever the power went out or any of the kids were having a bad day. They always cheered everyone up and Roman, again, adored the attention. 

“Some new kid tripped my pal Ricky over here,” he heard, presumably Ricky, grunt out an agreement. Remus and Roman both rolled their eyes, although neither knew it. “ And we wanted to…. teach him a lesson! Yeah, teach him a lesson. We thought we saw him go in here.” All the other guys agreed and Roman huffed. 

“Well, I can assure you all, that no one ran in here. Virgil and I are the only ones in here and we didn’t hear anyone come in except you four.” He said, his voice almost song like but that was always Roman. Actually, the only thing Remus could pick out that was different was the deepness of the voice. It had definitely gotten deeper since they were twelve but…it suit him. Remus bet he sounded even better singing than when he did when he was young. Less whiny and more rich. 

Garrett huffed. “Yeah, okay. But if you see him, tell him that Garrett just wants to…talk. Yeah, a nice friendly little chat.”

“And if they don’t show up?” Roman asked, merely out of curiosity, Remus had to guess. 

“Oh, if he’s smart…he will.” Garrett answered before him and his gang walked out. Remus turned back around and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He got ready to go until a voice stopped him.

“Okay, they’re gone! You can come out now!” Roman announced, still standing on the stage. Remus froze. 

“Oh, come on! I promise I won’t bite~” Roman chuckled. “Well, if you’re cute then I might.” Roman said. Remus gagged. He would have not said that if he knew who was behind the curtain. Still, Remus stayed silent. 

“Y'know I can see your foot, right?” Roman asked. Remus quickly pulled his foot to his chest and cleared his throat. 

“I think I’m comfy right here.” Remus replied, making his voice sound as different as possible. It’s only been three years, it would not take Roman long to figure out who he was if he used his normal voice.

He heard Roman chuckle, it was melodious and he felt tears gather in his eyes. God he missed that sound. 

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you-”

“I doubt that,” Remus cut him off. He knew that Roman would probably beat the shit out of him for what he did and he really can’t blame the guy. He did kind of trick him and abandon him. 

“How are you so sure?” Roman asked. Remus let out a watery bark of laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said. He heard Roman walk closer to where he was. His footsteps were slow and light sounding. 

“Can I at least know your name?” Roman tried. Remus shook his head no but then realized that Roman couldn’t see him.

“Hey Roman, I’m heading out. Pat and I are going to lunch! You spending your free period here?” A new voice, presumably Virgil, said. Roman just let out a loud hum and then the doors opened and closed. 

“That was my friend, Virgil. Although, if you were listening, you already knew that. Can you please come out?” Roman asked once more. 

“I’m gay.”

“Haha. Very funny.” Roman responded, tone light. Remus chuckled slightly too. “I am too, if that makes you feel any better.” Roman said.

“It does, actually.” Remus whispered. A tear had streamed down his face but he kept his voice level. 

“If…if I show you who I am…do you promise not to get mad?” Remus asked after a few seconds of silence. He heard Roman back away to the center of the stage. 

“That depends…are you my long lost twin?” Roman joked, voice layered with a type of sadness that made Remus’ stomach twist with guilt. He rose to his feet and walked out from behind the curtain. 

“Actually,” he walked over to Roman who was now frozen to his spot, eyes wide and filled with a lot of emotions. “I am.” Remus said, spreading out his arms in a “here I am” type way. 

There wasn’t much to show though. They both had pretty much the same build. Except, Roman was a lot more muscular in the arms while Remus was more muscular in his legs( due to running a lot of track…and away from the cops sometimes)

Their wardrobe was a lot more different too. At first De had offered to buy Remus all new clothes but he liked the more raggedy and dirty clothes. (“They fit my ass-the-dick” young Remus had said. De chuckled. “You mean, aesthetic?” He had asked. “Yeah, that thing” Remus waved off, marching out of the random store.) His dirty and very ripped jeans and his old crop top that he found. The only decent thing he had was the army jacket De insisted he get when he first got adopted. 

The silence that dragged on through the air was as thick as Remus’ book of regrets and as sharp as his many knives.

The slap that rang out across the room easily broke that though. 

Remus fell to the ground, hands cradling his right cheek. He didn’t even realize Roman moved closer to him.

“I…I deserve that.” Remus winced, feeling the spot. Damn, how hard did Roman hit? There was definitely gonna be a bruise. 

“Damn right!” Roman yelled but Remus rose to his feet and held out his hand. 

“You said you wouldn’t get angry,” Remus reminded. 

“I said I wouldn’t get angry if you weren’t my long lost twin.” Roman corrected. Remus sighed. He did say that. 

“What are you doing here?!” Roman yelled. Remus winced at the loud noise and covered his ears. 

“Aye, quiet would ya? I don’t need the whole school knowing about this.” Remus muttered, fiddling with a loose piece of thread on his jacket. Roman quieted down his tone but it was still filled with the same venom as when he was yelling. 

“What. The hell! Are you doing here?! Roman seethed. Remus licked his lips before answering. 

“Well, I was on my way to second period but then I accidentally tripped one of those assholes and spent the next five or so minutes getting chased around the school.” Remus explained, attempting to ease the tension. Roman did not find it funny. 

“I’m serious, Re." 

Time seemed to stop. That nickname, the old nickname Roman used to call him. No one is allowed to call him that anymore, not even De! It made Remus feel something that he didn’t particularly like. 

"I-I mean, Remus." 

"Yeah..yeah I know uhm. I got expelled from my last school for….a certain incident and De and I moved up here, to NC, to be closer to his family…also because I got expelled from almost every school in a 100 mile radius.” Remus rushed through the last part but Roman still got it. 

“So…so what you just went to this school to-to- I don’t even know! Rub it in my face! Humiliate me more than you already did? Mock me for being tricked by my brother!”

“No! Of course not! I didn’t even know you went here!” Remus defended, although a bit weakly. It seemed to go unnoticed by Roman. 

“And then you show up here-of all places! You haven’t even bothered trying to get into contact with me once since I left!.” Roman said. It felt like a kick in the gut to Remus but Roman didn’t seem to see that. Or if he did, he didn’t care. 

“I know tha-" 

"Do you know how long I waited? Just waiting for you to contact me? Tell me that you missed me-that you regret what you did- that you loved me- that you were safe?! Cus I had no idea if you had died or anything!,” Roman continued. Remus looked across the large auditorium guiltily. The rows of seats and the box seats on top. They all looked almost brand new and very…regal.

Damn, this school was rich. 

“Oh, nothing to say? Well maybe you’ll say something when I tell you that I had to go to therapy because of what you fucking did to me!” Tears had started to stream down Romans cheeks but he kept going. “Think about it? How traumatizing that is? Knowing that my twin- my brother, my only family- had gotten rid of me and didn’t even feel bad enough to send me a fucking emai-”

“I do too,” Remus whispered. 

Romans paused. 

“What?” he sneered. 

“I do too.” Remus said, louder. “Go to therapy, I mean. The guilt I felt, the nightmares I got…I didn’t know if you were okay and your last name changed- I couldn't  find you- then I got adopted and we moved to Florida and I just-…I gave up. On everything, actually. De got me therapy not long after ….” Remus trailed off. 

A range of emotions swimmed through Romans dark brown eyes. The same eyes that Remus possessed but they looked…older. Like he’d seen the universe crumble and couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Remus probably looked much the same. 

“I-I…I have to go!" 

"Roman, wait!” but he had already jumped down from the stage and ran through the double doors and straight into the crowd of students.

Remus collapsed into a crying mess in the middle of the stage. Tears mixed with snot as they met at his chin and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He just pulled out his phone and clicked the first contact. He held it up to his ear and waited. 

“Remus? Wha-”

“C-c-can you p-pick me up…” Remus stuttered, voice low. 

“What? Why? And why are you crying? Remus what ha-” the concern seemed high in the man’s voice and Remus felt bad for putting it there. Not bad enough to continue through the rest of the day though. 

“I-I…I wan-wanna go h-…h-home!” He pleaded, curling into himself as tightly as possible. It almost felt like a comforting hug. Almost. 

“Of…of course, darling. We can go home. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes so gather your things.”

“O-okay….I love you D-De.” Remus whispered, wiping away a few tears. They kept coming but at least he tried. 

“Of course. I love you too, Rem.” De hung up with a click. Remus lifted himself up from his folded position, wiped a few more tears, and headed towards his locker to grab the few things he brought. 

God, he wished he kicked those kids asses after all.

[haljathefangirlcat]

MOR mozalieri angst and galadred jb 👀

OH MY GOD ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU’RE INTO MOR TOO SDFGHJKLSDFGHJKLK

... ahem. These are both really short because I jotted them down as a spur of the moment thing  and I have absolutely no idea when or if I’ll actually make something out of them. So I’m just gonna post everything I wrote for them since it counts as “a little snippet” anyway, lol.

The first one is angsty af and entirely the fault of that part of L'Assasymphonie where Salieri is playing with the knife while ranting about his impostor syndrome and his inferiority complex. Uh, and Le Bien Qui Fait Mal, too, but that goes without saying. If it ever went anywhere, it would probably include very pained love/professional admiration confessions, a idiots in love/mutual pining “wait, no, I’m pining for you but you wouldn’t even look at me!” “are you kidding me, I’m the one pining but I thought you hated me!” moment, and PLENTY of hurt/comfort. I have absolutely no idea about anything else, though, because I don’t even know where or when even the scene I came up with is set... which would be a pretty important thing to know, from a practical standpoint, tbh.

TW FOR SELF-HARM AND VIOLENT IMAGERY

He’d only ever thought of what it was like to love like that. To feel the bright-bladed knife plunge and twist and dig inside his chest, tenderly cut through quivering flesh and sinew, saw his ribcage open to open up his heart to the burning beauty and white-hot light streaming in from above. To seek that pain and hide away from that pleasure, and curse the man who was the cause of both while cursing himself for letting him hold such power over him, for loving him and for hating him, for always failing to live up to him, to be like him.

He’d never spared one thought to consider what it might be like to be loved like that. To be made aware that your very existence was a spring of endless suffering for one who claimed to feel an ever-growing affection for you, to be made into an obsession in the black of night and an ivory idol bathed in golden sunrises, to become an inescapable curse. To have that much power, and not rejoice in it or even want it. To not be cruel enough to stomach it.

Mozart didn’t need to mock him with his brash laugh or hurl cold words at him. It was the softness in his voice that made guilt well up in his gut like pouring venom into a bowl until it overflowed; it was the sadness in his gaze that cooled his heart until he shivered. It was his own shame at himself, washing over him once again in new, sudden, crashing waves for new, sudden, piercing reasons, that brought him down on his knees, brought his head in his hands.

And Mozart, he came down to him. He lowered himself and crouched on the floor to reach him. Put his arms around his shoulders for a moment, then drew back and took Salieri’s wrists in his hands, holding them gently, gingerly. Scared, or disgusted, or perhaps just careful not to stain himself with his blood. It was starting to cool. It felt sticky, dirty.

«Come with me,» Mozart said, and drew Salieri’s hands away from his face. Some distant part of Salieri’s mind felt he should not allow that so easily, but the rest of him just felt tired, so he did. How strange that even though he was the one shaking, his breath ragged and hitching, it should be Mozart to cry. He wanted to laugh at the sight, but found he couldn’t. He could only let himself be dragged up to his feet, and then into a chair when he started feeling lightheaded.

He even obediently raised his hand and stayed put as Mozart ran to fetch warm water, soap, and clean cloth.

The second one is, once again, inspired by one of your fics. ;) Remember when you wrote that artist!Jaime/tattoo artist!Brienne fic where they bonded over Arthurian characters and I was like, “someone should introduce both of them to the concept of Galahad/Mordred because they’d love it so much for their own different reasons?” Ideally, this should be the fic where they actually get introduced to it... if it ever went somewhere.

The basic plot would be: “Jaime was overjoyed when he found out he could pour his old love for all things Arthurian AND his passion for drawing into fandom. His first fanart were all very dramatic, very romantic Mists of Avalon -inspired Arthur/Morgana pieces because he identified with that due to his ‘fated’ relationship with C., but as that started to go sour, he branched out into edgy, purposefully badwrong Arthur/Morgause stuff. Eventually, he found out about Galahad/Mordred and got really into the whole ‘doomed man on the path to making all the wrong choices finds redemption through connecting with another misfit with a high moral drive and noble nature who may have his own issues but believes there’s something good in him for some reason’ aspect of it. That’s when Brienne, budding fanwriter mostly into gen stuff due to romance bringing back bad memories, found his art and unexpectedly got hooked to the whole ‘noble-hearted and justice-loving misfit can’t really connect with anyone on a deeper level until he meets snarky, sad not-so-doomed man who actually sees HIM beyond both the brave knight thing and the ‘will never fit in anyway’ thing’ aspect. Now, they regularly chat through comments and tags and the occasional message. But things get more complicated when Jaime, who actually lost a hand in an incident years ago and had to relearn to draw after that while suffering the ableism of the usual suspects, finds the courage to post selfies on his blog both with and without his prosthetic hand to show the world and himself that the hardships he had to overcome don’t mean he’s less of a person or less of an artist or less in any way. That’s when Brienne goes from finding him interesting and funny and actually pretty charming to finding him HOT. Which scares her a whole lot due to her past experiences. But that’s okay because they’ll never see each other irl anyway, right? Unless they find out they actually live in the same city and Jaime asks her to meet to work on a collaboration they’ve been thinking of for a while but never really got to work on until now...”

And here’s what I currently have:

But then Mordred is staring at him again with those too-green eyes of his, except that this time there’s no mockery or coldness in them, and Galahad’s been warned again and again not to get too close to him and he’s been told over and over that he can’t trust him, but now he thinks that maybe, maybe he really does understand –

 Brienne stares at her screen. She actually described Mordred’s eyes as gray. Didn’t she? Usually, she picks dark gray, or dark brown, or dark. And yet, in this one story, they’re suddenly green.

Okay, time to take a break from revising. She gets up from her chair, rolls back her shoulders, and goes to grab a snack and a glass of water. She tries not to wonder what’s gotten into her – but she doesn’t really need to anyway, because she has a feeling she already knows.

Not that there’s anything bad about it. In a way, it only makes sense. He’s the artist who got her into the ship in the first place, and they’ve had a few pleasant conversations in the notes to his posts and, eventually, in the comments to her fics. So, it’s not that big of a deal if she associates him with these characters. And… well, recently he’s started posting selfies on his tumblr. And fine, she might have some sort of pathetic little celebrity crush – is that even the right term? Is he a Tumblr celebrity? – on him. Truth to be told, it’s not even as pathetic as the crushes she’s had when she was still in school, because at least he’s never insulted her or made fun of her looks, and she’s reasonably sure he wouldn’t even if he ever had the chance to. Which he won’t get, but anyway…

Anyway.

Apparently, the lines might blur when she’s distracted. Big deal.

[obsidiancreates]

No Simple Walk In The Park

(Still on break but I had a sudden idea and I- I couldn’t just not write it.)

(Damien gets Actor out of the house for the first time since Celine left, and it doesn’t go well...)

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“Mark, please, it can’t be good for you to do this. You haven’t left the house since Celine-”

“Don’t!” Mark snapped, getting too close to Damien’s face for comfort. He opened his mouth to say more, but a fit of coughing interrupted him. He stumbled back from Damien, hacking into the sleeve of his robe, trembling from the force of the fit. Damien reached out to try and support him, but Mark pushed him away. 

He took a deep, wheezing breath, and Damien noted with concern that neared terror how labored his friend’s breathing was. 

“You’re making yourself sick, Mark. Isolation isn’t how to deal with what’s happened,” Damien said in his gentlest tone. He moved closer, putting a hand on Mark’s back and rubbing it in circles to try and help the shaking. “Just come with me to the park for a little while. It doesn’t even have to be for very long. You need fresh air, sunlight...”

“I can get that in the garden,” Mark mumbled, his eyes squeezed shut as he continued to struggle to draw breath.

“Mark...”

Mark grit his teeth. “I can’t! I can’t leave, it doesn’t wa-” he was cut off by another coughing fit.

“It doesn’t... want? What?”

“Nothing,” Mark said, breathless. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I can barely see right now, much less think.” He panted and wheezed between words. 

Damien caught sight of his friend’s sleeve. It was... drenched. Damien wrote it off as just saliva from the coughing, but... there was far too much. He watched drops run down his friend’s hand. Was it... water? From his lungs?

No, it couldn’t be. Mark would be drowned if he had water in his lungs.

“Mark I... I know I haven’t been able to be here for you like I should, and you have every right to resent me for that. But I’m trying to be here now, while I can, and I think a little bit of time back among the living will help you.”

Mark tried to push Damien away again, but he paused after a moment. “Life is for the living, Damien, and I... I hardly consider myself among them.”

“Mark,” Damien moved to look his friend in the eyes. “Mark, please open your eyes.”

Mark shook his head. Damien sighed.

“Very well, that’s fine. But listen. Don’t let this kill you, in any sense of the word. You have a bright, fun-loving, entertainer’s soul, and it doesn’t belong trapped in this manor forever. It belongs out in the world, where it can mend and heal from the wounds it’s been dealt. You must choose to live, Mark, or else you’ll end up rotting in your own misery in your own home.”

Mark’s wheezing was all that could be heard for a few moments.

Well...

Damien could have sworn he heard something else, some kind of... whispering. But he dismissed it. He and Mark were the only ones there. It must have been the wind, or perhaps the house settling...

Mark squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and took a deep breath. He gave a small gasp and stumbled forward, almost falling, kept from collapse only by Damien catching him. The barely audible noises seemed to grow... frantic. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Damien said, trying to drown out the unsettling noises around them. He didn’t know what was wrong with his friend, but he would damn well try and help him get better in any way he could.

“Okay,” Mark said, his voice strained. “I-I’ll come with you.”

Damien smiled. “It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“I’m not changing out of my robe though. Not- not here.”

Damien chose not to ask about the reason. “That’s fine, I think I have something that could fit you at my house. Shall we get going?”

He ignored the continually increasing background noises. ‘It’s just the house settling. It’s just the house settling.’

Mark nodded. Damien kept supporting him as they made their way to the door, Mark seeming more and more apprehensive the closer they got. Damien turned the handle.

It didn’t budge.

He used both his hands and pulled as hard as he could.

The door slowly creaked open. Damien felt like he was trying to move a mountain.

As soon as they stepped out Mark shuddered, his whole body trembling like all the warmth had been pulled out of him at once. Damien himself shivered, noticing for the first time how cold his friend felt even though the fabric of the plush robe.

They got to Damien’s car and drove away. Damien tried to focus on the road and not stare at the way Mark’s face drained of color as they got farther away from Markiplier Manor.

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“Isn’t it lovely out today?” Damien commented as they entered through the gates of the park.

Mark, dressed in a red suit that one of Damien’s politician friends had gotten him (red really wasn’t Damien’s color of choice, but Mark had always been fond of it), looked up at the sky. “I suppose so.”

Mark was nervous, shaky, his eyes darting around like he was afraid something would jump out and attack him. Since they’d left the manor his face had gone nearly white, like there was no blood flowing to it at all. He kept coughing into a handkerchief and quickly hiding it from Damien’s view when he was done.

“Oh, come on now old friend. The sun is shining, there’s a good breeze, and the few clouds in the sky are perfectly fluffy!”

Mark blinked. His eyes seemed unfocused. For a second the glaze over them cleared, and a small smile made its way onto his face. “Yes...it is quite nice.”

They strolled through the park, under the shade of trees they used to climb in their youth, through patches of warm sunlight that Damien hoped would bring color back to Mark’s face, by picnics of families and friends as they celebrated the beautiful day. 

Mark smiled as she walked. Not a big, dazzling smile like he normally did, but a small, close-lipped smile. Still, it was a smile nonetheless. “I told you this would help,” Damien said.”

Mark laughed a little. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this warm,” he said, almost absentmindedly. 

Damien wasn’t sure what to say to that. So he brushed past it. “Not to mention how delightful the birds sound.”

Mark nodded. “I’d forgotten how much I like hearing them.”

Damien opened his mouth, wanting to ask why there would be no birds chirping at the manor when surely the garden attracted all kinds, but he hesitated. The manor seemed... a poor topic of discussion. He felt a chill just thinking about the... “settling” noises from earlier.

They made small talk as they walked, Damien telling Mark about his recent acts as mayor, about how he’d really like to introduce Mark to the DA at some point, he really thought they’d get along, about how the movies and local theaters had grown dull without Mark to join in them. Perhaps he over-exaggerated with the last subject, but he just wanted to try and get Mark interested in his own passions again.

Mark talked with him about what he had planned to do before... before everything happened. How he wanted to go into writing and producing as well as continuing to act, how he had wanted to try and coax Damien into being in one of his plays once he got a few written. “You’d be a great star, Damien! One of the leading men!”

Damien laughed. “What role would I even play?”

“I had an idea for you being a wicked governor.”

“Oh Mark, I could hardly pull off a villainous role.”

“I believe you could, if you really tried. I’ve played one or two and it’s not as difficult as you might think.”

“Well, perhaps when you’ve written it I’ll take you up on the offer.”

Mark kept coughing into the handkerchief the whole time. Damien took another one out of his pocket. “Here, I think yours is long beyond usefulness by now.”

“Thanks,” Mark said, taking it. Damien’s blood ran cold when he saw a dark, wet spot on Mark’s hand. “What is it?”

“Mark,” Damien held onto Mark’s wrist, careful not to squeeze and make Mark feel threatened, “Is this blood?”

Mark looked at the spot. “On, no. No, I’ve been using a new teeth whitening method, it turns my spit black, that’s all. It’s very effective, see?” Mark grinned, but Damien wasn’t convinced.

“That is far too thick to be spit.”

Mark yanked his hand away. “Just drop it. It’s nothing to worry about.” He went to tuck the other handkerchief back in his pocket, but Damien grabbed it before he could. “Hey!”

Damien stared at it in horror. It had to be blood on it, it was a dark thick liquid that certainly was not water or spit, but it...

It was too dark, too think. Like some kind of... black sludge, as opposed to blood.

“We’re getting you to a doctor. Right now.” Damien took Mark’s hand and started leading him back towards the gate.

“No!” Mark pulled away. “Let’s just go back to the walk and forget this happened! It’s nothing, Damien, and there’s nothing any doctor can do about it!”

“You can’t stop coughing, wheezing, and now you’re hacking up blood or- or whatever this is! You’re sick, Mark, very sick, and I’m not letting you neglect yourself any longer!”

“Oh why, because you feel so bad about neglecting me when I needed you?!” Mark shot back, his voice venomous. Damien flinched away, shocked by the rage that had so quickly taken over his friend. 

That’s not fair, I- I tried, but I had other duties!” 

“I needed you! And you left me alone, in that manor, with only my own grief and the-” Mark stopped, a coughing fit even more violent than all the others wracking him, making him double over, and then fall to his knees.

Damien forgot the need to argue, forgot the question he was going to ask about what else Mark had been left with, and rushed to kneel by Mark. Mark had the clean handkerchief gripped in his fist, so Damien held the dirty one up to his mouth. Black... whatever it was, had already made a small puddle on the ground, and Mark just kept coughing up more.

After what seemed like forever the fit stopped. Mark stayed still, shaking, head drooped, as Damien threw the handkerchief aside. “Please, Mark, I don’t want you to die. We have to get you to a doctor.”

Mark laughed, bitter and weak. “It’s a little too late for that.” He struggled to his feet. “I’m going home. I shouldn’t have left.”

“That place is bad for you! Look at yourself, you’re a shell of who you used to be!”

“IT’S ALL I HAVE LEFT!” Mark screamed, screamed at Damien, at his best friend since childhood. He stepped away, wiping from his eye what looked a lot like a tear made of the same black substance that he was coughing up. “It- it’s-” He looked at his hand, at the tear. He shivered, looking almost fearful. “It’s...”

He set his jaw. “I need to go home.”

Damien didn’t know what to do. “No, you need help.”

Mark wiped his hand on the suit jacket. “I have help. Just not from you, and not the kind of help you think I need.”

Damien grabbed Mark’s arm as the actor tried to walk away. “Do you actually want to go back?”

Mark froze. “What?” He wasn’t facing Damien, and he made no move to change that.

“Do you actually want to go back? That manor is... something feels very wrong with it, and I’m afraid it’s clouding your judgement. I can arrange for a different house for you to stay in, you can get some help, stop being so isolated. Your rage is just festering within you, and if you don’t stop it it’s going to ruin you.”

Mark was quiet for a long while. Damien moved so that he could at least see the side of Mark’s face. The actor was staring at nothing, actual, real tears in his eyes. “I-I...”

And then that darkened glaze came over them again. “No.” He wrenched his arm away from Damien. 

“Thanks for the suit,” he said, half genuine and half sneeringly. And he walked away.

Damien watched him go. He wanted to run after him, to force him to get help, but he had a feeling Mark was done... entertaining his ideas.

He sighed and picked up the discarded handkerchief, not wanting to litter. He would try again when he got a chance. 

He could still save Mark from himself.

Damien looked at the black sludge staining the handkerchief. It seemed like it was spreading, slowly eating up all the fabric until none of it was left untainted.

He could still save Mark from himself.

Couldn’t he?