#we met at the end of eden fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doublekanble · 10 months ago

Text

sibling

Lucifer-reader (gnc)

platonic

word count: 3.5k

the reason i dont write for women is because i would die doing so, anyway, im celebrating my first non-al fic with sleeping on time.

You have a brother. Not by blood. No. Never. You’re not Adam, nor are you Lilith, with skin the tone of light ivory and body defined by the dust of earth and dirt. You two are not bound by blood, nor are you bound by the particles that encapsulate the vast universe beyond the haven you both resides in. Not even to the vessels you were born into, or the similar structure of your souls, the basis for all angels. None of those means will ever be enough to define the bond you have.

(“Hey! Over here!” He laugh and called out your name, you laugh and follow his voice.)

Lucifer is a dreamer, an idealist and a mischievous soul. All in heaven knows of his name, and almost all of them have less than beautiful word about the tiny Archangel. Looked down and frowned upon, Lucifer’s jokes and games are less than entertainment to most. No matter how many duty he filled out by hands, they will never look at him as anything more than a simple trouble-maker (let alone the fact the duty itself is utterly useless in your eyes, but you digressed).

His voice too loud, too grating on one’s ears. His jokes too immature and too brazen to another. His handwritten letters crinkled at the corner, his smiles too bright and wide. His footstep too loud, his eating too messy, his stand too proud and his ideals too dangerous and downright blasphemous.

At some point, your brother’s face, molded, heated, sculpted and paint by Father’s hands himself, once so bright and perfect, one that supposed to never aged, aged.

(He pulls you by the wrist and guide you both from Heaven, down and down to the Garden itself. Lucifer is the fastest angel (Archangel) you know, but you also know he like flying by your side, so you pull yourself forward a bit and take your time despite your own circumstance.

“What are you trying to show me brother?” you smile, pretending to be exasperated by his antics. “We’ve already seen the four corners of this endless place. What ever is there to be excited about?”

“Oh-ho-ho. You’ll see when we get there~!” )

In everyone else’s eyes, your brother is nothing but a blight at worst, an annoyance at best. But to you, he’s your older brother, who took you by the hand and shows you magic tricks and sing silly songs to you when you first met; determined to distract you from your crooked left wing bleeding gold (that too, he fixed for you). Ever since then, the once-dutiful you spent your free days floating by his side, and before anyone can say anything about it, you two were inseparable.

If someone finds you by a tree somewhere, they would find you with a lyre in your lap, strumming away a tune you knew by heart while your brother sang a song with no rhythm. If they were to find him by a once-white wall, they’ll find that you’re right there with him holding paint and brushes in your hand as he drew crude and unrecognized shapes. He walks and you follow. Where you can find one, it’ll never be without the other.

Those songs, the makeshift pieces of art, your good papers that he kept stealing and his paint that always stained the corner of each and every single one of your robes. Those are the happiest days you have and will ever live in your eternal life.

“Is this the surprise...?” You look around the breathtaking space you’re standing in, trying to sound as casual as you can while Lucifer blanched and turns from one end to the other. Sunlight streaming through the leaves as distant chirps of birds reverberate. Heaven is beautiful, but Eden is perfect. If only you can spend more time here right now, but you need to be back by Sera’s side in thirty minutes, like it or not. “I mean, this is always a welcoming sight, but-“

“Wait please hold on! This was NOT supposed to play out like this, she should’ve been here- Imeanuhhhhh nothing um I was not supposed to say that-“ he groaned and run his free hand over his face. “Just- Lemme go look for her- you hold on right there I promised it won’t be long I’ll-”

Patting the hand that was still holding onto your wrist gently, you smile. “Luci, it’s no problem to me, really.” It is, but you’re not going to let him know, “Whatever it is you want to show me, it’ll be perfect. You just tripped a little, that’s-oof!”

He all but crushed you in his arms, six wings encasing you in a hug so tight, you feel like being wedged in between the crust of the earth and the sea. But you still try to pat his back before he pulls away and fly off with a quick “Just a sec!” and then you’re left alone, still processing whatever he was saying. Whoever this “she” can be, you trusted Lucifer, if only he could be a bit faster. You pull a watch from your right front pocket and flip its casing open.

He have twenty-five minutes, you sigh, whatever the new surprise maybe, it’s surely giving him a run for his life. Just then, a bird suddenly came into view, it’s beautiful long feathers dance in the air as it pranced over to you, graceful and poised.

“Hello there friend…What a delightful little thing like you doing here?” lowering onto your knees, you hastily shove your watch back into its place and open your arms to the bird. The thing settled in your embrace, right at home as you rock it back and forth and sing it’s praises. “Such a friendly thing…”

He have about eighteen minutes to show you whatever he wants to. You really hope you can go back soon. But as you’re recounting a story to the bird about a problem the Elders were fighting over, some silly dispute about making another human for one of the first, you hear a faraway voice calling your name. Quickly, he closed the distance.

“There you are!” looking beyond disheveled, your brother re-emerges behind a bush at the twelve-minute mark – smiles akin to the sun as he collected his breath, “Ok, so before we do this, you’ll need to promise me something first. You have to keep this a secret. For now. I think…” you raised an eyebrow as you swept his hair back into place, he sputtered “-It’s not anything bad! I swear! Butttt I’m pretty sure we’ll get intotroubleifanyoneelsefoundoutsoplease-“

“Brother, I promise.” You laugh, bouncing the bird a bit, you hope whoever it is, they’ll get along well. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me so badly you pulled me from lunch break and then came back to me looking like this?”

He hissed with a slightly embarrassed smile, but quickly recovered. As he straighten up, Lucifer waves his hand over the tree next to the bush he just came from, calling out to it in a tone you’ve never heard from him before, calling out to her. The bird suddenly stir in your arms as it fling itself to the sky and pulled your attention from them, your eyes following the bird in dismayed. And when you turn back, you feel the air leaving your lungs as you stare at the most beautiful person you’ll ever see.

“Ta-da! Surprise! Wha-za!” Lucifer struck several ridiculous poses as she laugh gently, covering her mouth. But her attention quickly turns back to you, who stand frozen like a new born fawn with mouth half open. When she smile at you, you immediately understand just why Lilith the human was so beloved by Father despite her rebellious attitude, and wondered if Adam also is as breath-taking as her.

“…”

“Um, Heaven to you? You there~?” He knows what’s going on in your head. You know he knows, so you hit his arm and almost growl at him for the first time.

“Hello there. You must be Lucifer’s sibling.” Her voice like the wind. Her eyes the color of light violet. You immediately recalled the beautiful Chrysanthemums you took from the garden some days back, petals just as lovely, if not less, than hers.

“…Hi…” you breathe, and then jolted back awake. “I mean- uh- greetings. Miss Lilith. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”

Her expression change just a bit, and you kick yourself down for it. “Please don’t be so courteous. Lilith is fine!” She walks forward and held onto your hands; you feel faint. “Lucifer told me so much about you. I’m glad I finally get to put a face to the name.”

“I hoped I’m fitted to your expectations, miss-“ she glares at you, you’re convinced the beating of your own heart weakened your resolve. “Lilith. Lilith.”

At this, she gives you a pleasant smile. “That would take time for me to know, now wouldn’t it?”

Lilith was merciful enough to let go of your right hand as she calls to Lucifer, who was smiling with utter glee in his eyes. But you can’t properly register anything at the time, completely defenseless and left to the mercy of Lilith as your brother ignores your bewitched state. You wondered just why does people also look down on Lilith. Everything about her screams utter beauty and grace. That is, until you came to and realizing they were both grinning at each other.

Lilith expression, though still fair and utterly lovely, was foreign to you. Your brother’s, however, help you realizing there’s no way in Father’s name you can go back to Sera with the time you have left.

Only ever seeing her from afar, you now find yourself drawn to her in the same way your brother was. As beauty is to the beholder, you would be more than glad to say that Lilith is the pinnacle of beauty. No, not just that, she must be the definition.

“-I don’t know how long I can hold this-“

“You’ll be fine Luci~” he groaned as Lilith turns to you and whispered “How long did you say he can stay like that for?”

You know he can hear you both despite her effort, so you look at him in the eyes and pretend to ponders.

“Hm~ At least two hours is needed for me to made the paint-“ you can do it in seconds if you choose to, “and my hands are so unsteady…” you can draw a circle, not perfect, but you don’t need perfection in your work, until today that is, “So… my dearest, strongest, most wonderful and amazing brother can stay like that until we’re done.”

She pulls you into her arms, laughing and aggreging with you as Lucifer seethes and curse under his breath. It wouldn’t take as long as he dreaded, he gives up half way through and opted to show you two some trick he learned instead. But it certainly was enough for him to weaponized it for the next 6 days. Lilith distracted you two from your sibling rivalry all the while.

You would’ve love to gawk and hand-pick each and every trait she have to write songs and poems about, but were you to truly do that, you’ll have to pick all of dear Lilith apart. Father’s skills and love truly shines through her appearance in every way. And yet, so distinctly, she’s not the same as everything else Father made.

As you observed the way Lilith would dance with Lucifer, you realized just how similar their souls are, despite being made from different molds and materials. Lilith brough to Lucifer a certain charm, a place for him to hang about as he falls. Lucifer in turns, brought a wave of chaos to her, one that she handled with utter grace and would indulge in. Her towering figure holding onto him as she brings him from the river they fell into, her lyre playing the oddest of tunes that somehow compliments his terrible singing. The faces he painted on the rocks in the garden are followed right behind with her own piece of art, just as terrible as his and just as lovely. All a lovely and gentle and beloved kind of love, but one where you suddenly feels like the garden isn’t a place for you anymore, despite them always calling your name and laughing with you.

And in the midst of it, you soon realized you can’t find the trace of paint handmade by your brother on your robes anymore, and none of your good papers ever disappeared with a mischievous grin hiding behind it. But as always, you followed after him when he offers his hand. And then one day Sera gives you an off-handed praise about finally distancing yourself from Lucifer, and suddenly, it hit you that it’s been a month since he draped himself across your desk and pull you away to play some games he came up with that day. Time passes quickly for those who do not live, and it passed by even quicker for dreamers living in happy days.

Unbecoming of yourself, you would fallen ill for three days and two night, not the kind where you would lie in bed and barely move. It’s the kind where you move with a fervor, unable to think for anything except from tearing everything in your room open and breaking every other thing that can’t be torn. Immortal beings cannot handled the concept of non-eternal love. It hurts all the more that the two souls you want to direct this anger at is the two you will readily die for. You grappled with the possibility of feeling betrayed and abandoned by people who never leave in the first place by punching at the walls until your knuckles tore open to the bones. How do you mourn people who never die. You do not know. So for those three days and two nights, you learned how to.

But jealousy is an unsightly trait of an angel, and honestly is applauded. So afterward, you turn to Sera and asked her for guidance, seeking the inner peace and order she and the Elders have been preaching all this time before you can let yourself find out what happened to angels who let the unsightly takes them. So that you wouldn’t ever know what happened to angels who let the unsightly into their room, yours was cleaned of all the broken and torn.

But forever, your heart still turned towards your older brother and his new love. Every time you open your eyes after a restful sleep, your thoughts are filled with them. And despite Sera’s advices, you would still seek them out just to listen to their songs, and as they dance across the Garden, you learned and made peace with simply watching on. Soon, a small seed, like that of an apple tree was planted in your heart and it grows every time they smile, with or without you, and slowly you find in you a sense of tranquility. Because by Lilith side, your brother’s once tired visage soon grow a new life, one better than you can ever hope to give him. And by Lucifer side, she glows with something you can’t ever put a finger on, as if being born anew every moment. So one day, you held onto her hand while Lucifer flies off to catch a duck by the pond.

“Are you happy by Lucifer’s side?”

Her graceful and sharp expression broke with a smile, so bright and gentle, just like your brother.

“As happy as I can ever be.”

Your own face, reflecting in her light violet eyes, akin to beautiful blooming Chrysanthemums, is one filled to the brim with mirth. You would embrace her in your arms for the last time as you bid the two goodbye and leave. From then on, you forbid yourself from ever entering Eden, even as your brother would beg you at times. You only send Lilith gifts and letters you wrote by hand, afraid of encroaching onto their garden, it’s no longer a space that belongs to you.

Far until the day you woke up and wondering what you’ll have for dessert. It hits you that life have returns to its state of normalcy, one where you think about Lilith and Lucifer having fun and one where you hoped they're laughing as loud as they can; for Lucifer is your dearest older brother, and Lilith your beloved older sister, not bounded by blood, not tied by soul. You hope he can get Lilith and himself out of Heaven’s grasp one day. Such a rigid place can never be enough for them.

Their yelling was so, so loud. Half of you hope to be anywhere else at all, and the other half hope you can go back to being a speck of dust in the galaxy. But you’re standing in the court of the Elders as they fought over your life, unable to wish and pray yourself away from here (it’s unbecoming for an angel to wish) and unable to process a single word they’re saying as you poured over the details.

(“Surely it knows! You can’t see it by anyone else’s side except from him!” “You’re the closest to that vile snake! You must’ve plotted together with him?!”

“Throw it down too! We can’t risk another one!”)

Your eyes flitting across the documents and fucking transcripts that was made over the days of the event and what happened after. Although their every motion finally written in clear ink, you can’t help but focus on one thing.

They took from the apple tree and dare gave it to Eve, Adam’s new bride. More-or-less tricking her and causing the downfall of humanity, the papers all-but stated.

(“I begged of you, they surely do not. For all this time, they have been by my side! For the past week, they haven’t even saw him!”

“How are you so sure?!”

“Are you saying I’m blind, Elder?”

“How dare you talk back! You wretched-“

A hand reach out, silencing the court. A single Elder stand with their eyes watching your hunched form. You were a particularly hard-working angel, despite your association and your actions at time.)

It was unanimously agreed that Lucifer and Lilith will be cast down to Hell, a palace made of misery just for them. Their thought crimes might've turned to outright blasphemy, but there is mercy in the arms of Father. Eve’s fate however, remained unknown. They’ll have a court session about her tomorrow, to be entice or to let yourself be enticed, a rock and a hard place. There’s talk and whispers in the walls, of casting her to the same fate as your brother and his lover the moment her soul leave her newly-made body. Your grief is with Lucifer and Lilith, fully aware of the real punishment.

(“Then will you, Oh Honored Seraphim, swear with your eternal life that this one won’t fall like he did?”)

Being able to escaped Heaven and the judging eyes of others would’ve been a dream for them. Somewhere where white and black rules and golden rigid structures won’t tie down their dreams of freedom and love. What better ways to break them than to let them watch the consequences of their blasted dreams.

“…”

She held onto your hand, as you finally collapsed on the stand and weep openly for all to see. They turn and discussed amongst themselves as you feel your breath gets taken away all over again.

“Honored Seraphim?”

“I swear to our Father, and to my eternal life.”

Sera grips on you is strong and firm even as she leads you from the court and back to your room, all cozy and warm and so unlike your burning heart and freezing body. She sat on your bed and held onto your shivering form, wide-eye and as terrified as the day you were born.

“From now on, their eyes are on you.”

You catches the glimpse on her face, miserable and heavy, masked behind a tough front. You wondered whether she knew this would’ve happened. You wondered if she’s doubting herself for trusting you. Your life now tied to her hand.

“From now on, you have no brother. You must stay strong.”

From now on, you both have no sibling. As you cry yourself into the dark, you briefly remembers Lilith gentle hand holding onto yours when you doze off, Lucifer sing a lullaby you can’t recalled, his voice normal and lovely. Now so far away from them, you wondered if there’s any meaning at all to dreams.

You once had a brother and a sister, not by blood, if only you could be bound to them by blood. Unlike the blessed humans, your regrets and sorrow cannot end in a single night and nothing in the world can ever take your ghastly form away. Your soul is made by hand, plucked from the infinite of the world; body melts in mold, sculpted from stardust instead of dirt. If only you too, were made of dirt. Instead, you now watch over the misshapen sculpted clays and dirt that made it to the pearly gates and take care of them as best you could. Jealousy is unbecoming of an angel, but you no longer care about knowing what happened to the one that fell.

You once had a brother and a sister, once. And ever since you haven’t, you’ve been dutifully and restlessly waiting until they can come back home.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #luficer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #x reader #hazbin hotel oneshot #tumblr rlllly hates the banner on this one for some reason

61 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 3 months ago

Note

Hellooo!! Tysm for all the work you do mods this blog is acc amazing :)

I wondered if you know about anymore mcu (marvel/avengers) crossover fics cos I noticed there was only one post under the mcu tag and it’s rl hard to find good marvel crossover fics with GO lol

Thank you so much !!! <333

We have a couple of posts on our #marvel crossover tag. I don't read them, so don't know how "good" they are, but here are more that had interesting sounding summaries...

Shakespeare (Nerd) in the Park by ThePandaFangirl (G)

Aziraphale notices a certain actor in the park who suspiciously looks like a teen he met in the 1600s… and the man who tried to invade Earth 7 years ago OR a one-shot of the times when an angel of God (capital 'G') saw a particular Norse god (lowercase 'g')

Guardians of Alpha Centauri by I_llbedammned (G)

Set in the post Almost End of the World from Good Omens and the Post Infinity Wars from the MCU, Crowley and Aziraphale are living their lives as normal when suddenly they are summoned halfway across the galaxy to help deal with the pressing problem of one Galactus trying to consume everything in his path. However there is a small problem in the fact that the act of summoning cut them off from the source of their power. Will they gain their powers back in time to save the world yet again?

Angel of God, my Guardian dear by savorvrymoment (M)

Meanwhile, the angel sighs, soft hands brushing through Bucky’s hair. “Oh, don’t say such things about yourself. You are beautifully human. Dear boy, would you look up at me?” The angel has to encourage him further with his hands, but Bucky eventually does meet the other’s gaze. He has a cherubic face and soft, aqua blue eyes. His gentle smile is comforting and heartrending all at once. “Please forgive me,” Bucky begs. “Please, Lord, forgive me…” “Shh… You know something? You remind me of a friend of mine,” the angel tells him. “He was a great and righteous warrior. He stood for goodness and passion and devotion. But he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he fell from a great height…” “You’re so very funny, Angel,” Crowley interrupts. Though Bucky doesn’t look away from the kind face in front of him. “They tried to burn away his spirit and his light and his love. But they failed,” the angel continues. “He was too strong of heart to truly be broken.”

Iron Serpent by prettybirdy979 (T)

'What should I call you then?' 'Crowley. Anthony Crowley.' Tony has to beam at Mr Crowley. 'My name is Anthony too!' Mr Crowley smiles, a quick grin. ‘What a coincidence Kiddo.’ He stands, offering his hand to Tony. * Or four year old Tony means Anthony Crowley, demon of Hell and Serpent of Eden. It's the start of something that might, somehow, one day, be called a beautiful friendship. It may also save a life.

Guardian Demon by these_violet_delights (T)

“Think of me as a sort of… guardian demon.” “PFFFFTTT-HA!” Jessica did an actual spit-take and burst into laughter, first at Crowley, then at herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “Guardian demon! Leave it to me to have guardian demon! Did the angels just give up, or…?” “Jessica Jones, I can think of only one angel who might be qualified to be your celestial guardian,” the demon teased, “but he currently has his hands full shooing customers away from his bookshop. Face it, I’m the only being, celestial or infernal, who is not only capable but also willing and intrigued enough to put up with your bullshit.” “Fair enough,” Jessica smiled. *** Or, what happens when Crowley shows up after Jessica accidentally kills her third victim? Whether from Heaven or Hell, Jessica Jones could use all the help she can get. Disposing of a body is a bonding activity, right? Starts at the very beginning of S2 Ep11 AKA - Three Lives and Counting.

Is This Heaven? No, It's Brooklyn by heyjupiter, volunteerfd (T)

After supervising the wrong child for 11 years, Crowley and Aziraphale discover that the Antichrist is actually in Brooklyn, and they have one month to avert the Apocalypse. Although they still need to figure out a few minor details (like how to stop him, and what name he's using), they book an Airbnb and head across the pond. Meanwhile, Bruce Banner, the last living descendant of Agnes Nutter, is also figuring things out, like how can he best answer his curious mentee, Adam Young’s, many questions about the planet? Why couldn't his ancestor's prophecies have been less nice and more coherent? What role will Stark Industries play in causing the end of the world? If he took down his Airbnb listing months ago, how did two strange Englishmen rent it out? And is he really destined to live the rest of his life with the asshole who plowed him over with a Bentley? The combined forces of science, religion, and coincidences--plus the hyper-competent Pepper Potts--might just be enough to avert the Apocalypse and give everyone a happy ending.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #marvel crossover #mod d

21 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 1 year ago

Text

The Mission

Gen: Secondo & Family (600-ish words)

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Holidays, Children are extremely serious especially Secondo's, Secondo retired and moved away from the Ministry a decade ago, Secondo is disabled in my AU, Dad Secondo

Secondo's children enact the most important ritual of their entire year.

Blaming and tagging @riptide-kid for this

Ficlet below the cut!

“We all have to get up.” Eden stood by her parent's bed. Her eyes were enormous, blazing with determined intensity. Her round, pale face and lank hair gave her the appearance of some ghostly entity standing in the dark of the room. The littlest brother Sam was behind her, kneading his hands.

Secondo and Sandra were no strangers to their daughter’s habit of standing by their bedside with something cryptic to say. Maybe it was Secondo’s bloodline, or maybe the eight-year-old was just extra theatrical, it was hard to tell. Secondo didn't mind it all that much. Sometimes her mysterious statements became accurate portents.

Not this morning, though. They expected her here. In fact they were surprised it was this late. She was a very punctual child, with a strong sense of what was necessary.

No surprises there.

“Mommy, it's time. Everybody has got to get up.”

“Nope, this is your father's job,” Sandra muttered. She sleepily tapped his back. “Magician and man of the house and all that. I've got fifteen minutes until I'm getting up.”

“We need to hurry then,” Eden said solemnly. Sam nodded, still frowning.

“I'm getting up at the pace I'm getting up,” Secondo announced, pulling himself upright. He reached for his forearm crutch.”Go get Paul if you want somebody fast.”

“Paul! We forgot Paul!” Sam hissed. “We left him alone!”

“Well, go get him!” Eden ordered back. Sam slipped out the door to wake their older brother. Eden paced on the carpet.

Secondo snorted, shaking his head. “Serious business.”

“They take after you, dear,” Sandra replied from under the quilt.

The door opened and Sam dragged Paul in by the wrist. The teenager blinked slowly in the soft darkness, his hair looking like it was caught in a windstorm. “Whuh—”

“You and Daddy have to go check!” Eden insisted.

Paul tossed his head and he locked eyes with his father, his face now full of determination. Secondo watched his son struggle not to break character. “You're right. We need to make sure,” Paul announced in a hushed tone. Eden and little Sam hugged each other excitedly.

Secondo finally got the momentum to pull himself upright and onto his crutch. “You're the fastest of all of us,” Secondo told his oldest son. “You have to lead the mission this year. Good luck.”

“You can't let him see you,” Eden reminded him while Sam bobbed his head vigorously in agreement. “Not for even one second.”

“Godspeed,” muttered Sandra.

The four adventurers organized themselves at the end of the hallway. Down the hall was the living room, now slowly becoming awash with reddish light from the large curtained windows. “Go on, Paul,” whispered Secondo.

Paul nodded and crept down the hallway, dramatically stopping every few feet to look back at his younger siblings. Eden, the mission commander, glared as she observed his task.

At a pace that seemed like forever to the children under eight years old, Paul finally reached the end of the hall, peeking around the corner. He turned and tossed his hand at Secondo. “Now you,” ordered Eden in a whisper.

The old magician nodded solemnly and walked with as much authority and dark majesty as he could in pajamas. He met up with Paul at the end of the hall, craning his neck to observe the living room as cautiously as he could. He gave the younger children a satisfied nod. His mouth was a thin, firm line, his whitened eye gleaming in the dim light.

“All clear. Santa’s gone. And he left presents for you.”

----

My Fic List | My AO3

Fun fact, my dad would do this to us every Christmas Morning. And when he moved out, as the oldest sibling it was up to me to check. I don't know if you know this but apparently if Santa is down there by your tree and sees you EVEN FOR ONE SECOND, he vanishes and takes all your presents. (This fact had no bearing whatsoever on me, obviously.)

#ghost fandom #the band ghost #ao3 author #ghost scenes from the void #domestic december #domestic fluff #dad secondo #papa emeritus ii #secondo & family #ghost band headcanons

54 notes · View notes

simplegenius042 · 9 months ago

Text

Music Monday

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @softtidesworld @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @onehornedbeast @imogenkol @g0dspeeed @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @aceghosts @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe @turbo-virgins @inafieldofdaisies @afarcryfrommymain @starsandskies @derelictheretic @purplehairsecretlair @ladyoriza @minilev @wrathfulrook @yokobai @cloudofbutterflies92 @florbelles @skoll-sun-eater @sleepyconfusedpotato @snake-in-the-garden @thewanderer-000 @titiagls @strangefable @strafethesesinners @rhettsabbott @red-nightskies @voidika and @la-grosse-patate + anyone else who's interested.

Three songs for The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and an Original Work of minet. Also I'm putting my WIP Wednesdays on hold, as I'm working on my newest "Intro Post" and some Masterlists. Anyway, listen and read below the cut:

Silva and Azriel's mother-daughter relationship in Silva's Hope is one of the key turning points of the fic (the underlying themes of motherhood not withstanding); it causes Silva to reevaluate her standing with both Eden's Gate and the Resistance in Hope County and motivates her to take a much more proactive rogue approach, seeking to push both factions towards a peace without spilling anymore bloodshed as there had already been (before she was just trying taking out her grief, pain and her bottled up trauma onto the cult that was similar to the two that took everything from her, and hoping to get killed in the process, a roundabout way to end her own suffering without dishonoring/abandoning the sacrifices made to get her to safety). It also gives her the chance to acknowledge and accept the death of her daughter Persephone; something she's been guilt-ridden about throughout her grief, never allowing her to make peace with it. Silva's upbringing was shaky, her childhood spent with a man who's intentions towards her were anything but pure, and her adolescence spent with the father she wished she had before things went to hell. Silva sees herself in Azriel; a girl harmed by the zealotry of a cult and denied the affection she needed and craved for until later in her life. Silva hopes to be the mother Azriel can rely on, as well as a fiercer protector. This song is both a mix of Azriel and Silva's perspective (in a way), though it's also Silva echoing promises Paul had told her (when he was a better person) but directed to Azriel this time:

youtube

"There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes In a happy home, I was a king, I had a golden throne But those days are gone, now the memory's on the wall I hear the songs from the places where I was born

Up on the hill, across the blue lake That's where I had my first heartbreak I still remember how it all changed My father said

Don't you worry, don't you worry, child See Heaven's got a plan for you Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah

There was a time, I met a guy of a different kind And we ruled the world, I thought I'd never lose him out of sight We were so young, I think of him now and then I still hear the songs, reminding me of a friend, oh

Up on the hill, across the blue lake That's where I had my first heartbreak I still remember how it all changed My father said

Don't you worry, don't you worry, child See Heaven's got a plan for you Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah Don't you worry, don't you worry, child See Heaven's got a plan for you Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah."

Next song is for an Original WIP of mine called Mario: Mother's Boy, a kind of origin story for one of my OCs from The UnTitledverse, Mario Emmet, a quippy shapeshifting alien that feeds on fear, and his time being raised by his mother, Abigail Emmet, who had spent nearly a century prior masquerading as a human outlaw with the Van Der Linde Gang (and feeding off the terror of her enemies). The fic starts from 1979 and ends in 1988, ending a few months Mario's other story, The Adventures of Debra Holmes and her Amazing Best Friend Mario Emmet, in The UnTitledverse. Throughout the fic, Abigail struggles with raising her very impulsively instinctively driven son, helping him masquerade as a human while teaching him human morals and culture (while retaining some of their better alien traditions that doesn't call for the disregard of other's health), going out on hunts to feed both herself and Mario (all the while terror becomes a harder emotion to elicit from her prey, though thankfully fear isn't difficult for Mario to pry out of his own prey), making decisions that put her son before herself, something that goes against her species very nature, as well as face her own impending mortality as her lifespan shortens. But for Abigail, as long as Mario is prepared to survive in this world without her, then that's enough for her, even if the time they had together was never enough.

youtube

"I'm trying to hold my breath Let it stay this way Can't let this moment end You set off a dream in me Getting louder now Can you hear it echoing? Take my hand Will you share this with me? 'Cause darling, without you

All the shine of a thousand spotlights All the stars we steal from the night sky Will never be enough, never be enough Towers of gold are still too little These hands could hold the world but it'll Never be enough, never be enough

For me Never, never Never, never Never, for me, for me Never enough Never enough Never enough For me, for me, for me

For me Never, never Never, never Never, for me, for me Never enough, never, never Never enough, never, never Never enough For me, for me, for me

For me."

Cyberpunk: Corporate Shutdown is a Cyberpunk 2077 fic apart of Life, Despair & Monsters, following Min-Ji "Vasilisa" Choi, codenamed to simply "V" (supposed to be the Roman numeral of "Five"/"Fifth" but in Night City, people are pricks, so that number became a letter), as she navigates through the cesspool that is Night City, the dominion of Arasaka on American soil. She is mentored by both Johnny Silverhand (in her head) and an old companion of his, Rico (who Arasaka had intentions to weaponize him but he managed to escape before they could touch any more organs... though he is fighting off the side effects of Cyberpsychosis due to almost being full-borg, something forced upon him by Arasaka), into the life of a Cyberpunk. They intend to burn down Arasaka and their main enforcer, Adam Smasher, along with it. However, Smasher isn't alone; he has a pet by the name of "Impulse", and it seems Militech want a piece of the action with their newest creation: "Inviticus", so helpfully designed by one Sir Enigma Malvolio.

youtube

"Young blood, run like a river Young blood, never get chained Young blood, heaven need a sinner You can't raise hell with a saint Young blood, came to start a riot Don't care what your old man say Young blood, heaven hate a sinner But we're gonna raise hell anyway

Raise hell, yeah Raise hell Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell Baby, drop them bones Baby, sell that soul Heaven, fare thee well Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell (Oh, my-my, oh, hell yeah) Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell (Oh, my-my, oh, hell yeah) Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

Young blood, stand and deliver No need for a queen affair Young gun, gotta pull the trigger When the whole world running scared.

Raise hell!"

26 notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 4 months ago

Note

Dem Hi! I'm back with a bit of an unhinged ask here:

Im sure this doodle gives you an idea where this is going. I was just making myself some tea, and I was thinking about Lovers In Eden (i was going to listen to a song called Eastward of Eden by Amelia Day,hence the association). And Since I am a film student, a writer and i took script classes as my subject las trimester, i offer you this unhinged recap of my conspiracy theory. So LIE (Lover in Eden) introduces us to the idea that Strife killed Y/N after a bloodlust outburst,right? Well, at first i didnt think too much of it, but then the chapter ends with the four on earth, which felt a little disembodied from the prologue. Which brings me to the hipothesis which is: Strife's lover is on earth,reborn without their memories. My proof for this theory is this: 1) We know that in the darksiders universe there is such thing as a well of souls, we know they go through the kingdom of the dead to repent and then be reborn through the well. 2) you wouldntve put the line "Love slayer" if it wasnt relevant to the plot. (Writing often times includes phrasing things a certain way to hint at other things). 3) Why would you close the chapter where you did? What relevance does the fact that the four are now on earth have? Simple, Strife will find a reborn,survivor Y/N and will fall in love with them (and have a crisis once he realizes its a whole like soulmates finding eachother again situation) 4) and last (which came to me as i wrote this) if you were to center the story only on Strife and the reader without the reader being reborn, you wouldve just started it from the medieval age/wherever strife met the reader and not end with the four on earth. Of course dont gotta tell me if im right,dont want to spoil the whole fic anyways. But I felt the need to share this with you. (I genuienly felt like the pepe silvia meme). And yeah, one offshoot of all this is that maybe the reader isnt a reborn soulmate, and that the prologue could just set up this inherit guilt and fear towards love that Strife has. Until we get the next chapter, i lay in wait...scheming/lhj/hj Have a nice rest of your day and i hope you've enjoyed my unhinged ramble. -Jer. PD: i feel so silly for sending this whole thing but as a fellow writer i know theres nothing we love more than ppl theorizing about our stuff. So here you go. I hope it doest read as overbearing,i just genuienly love your stuff.

First off, I love your pepe doodle! It’s so perfect. In fact I find it so funny that I made this a little bit ago myself... (As much as I'd love to rant and such about my AUs' lore and headcanons, I made this for shits and gigs)

I absolutely adore hearing theories readers have about my fics. (Sorry this has taken FOR-EV-ER to respond to, I'm terrible with replying at times)

I also fucking LOVE that you're a film student, I think that makes this whole theory situation even better because I do tend to have a very movie-esque thought process when writing. (Blooper reel and BTS footage rent free in my head)

And I think I've got the mind stewing a bit with that recent post, Flowers From My Lover. Without hopefully giving away anything, you do have some valid and interesting points in your theories and has me going, "Oh Jer is good little detective." You get a cookie for your theory skills!

There are indeed certain key details and clues I put in on purpose and it's so interesting to see what readers pick up on. And yes, the well of souls is involved to some extent in this plotline, but not in the way you might think...

I also find your choice of the word "reborn" interesting. Very obviously and right out the gates, I will say that yes, reader is alive in this story. But it's the manner in which reader's alive and again, the reborn theory is interesting and again, possibly not in a way you're expecting. Though it seems rather simple, I will tease that there is... quite a bit more to it than what's at face value.

And I wanna tease this little clue too because it is one of my favourites: It's interesting how the fic's title has a double meaning in plain sight...

#dem's inbox reply #darksiders #lovers in eden fic theory by jerico

11 notes · View notes

ccsven · 19 days ago

Text

In celebration of our one year anniversary the admins and mods and I have decided to give a rundown of the history of Eden’s Rest, our sleep token fan made discord server.

Today, on December 26th, the server was born created by two fans with the intent on building a fan hang out place for people 18+. I was one of the first few to join on day one, after that people began flooding in. It seemed like every day someone new would join. We had many on topic and off topic channels to chat in ranging from fashion, art, other music, to dream journaling and spirituality.

Some of you may remember my rants earlier in the year about Tuesday being related to sleep token. We have @toobluebirdie , a fellow friend in the server, to thank for the deep dive rabbit hole they did connecting links that likely made us look crazy back in January-February. We still go crazy any time sleep token does anything on a Tuesday. One of the fun things to come of this server.

Unfortunately it seemed like things quickly came to an end when the previous server owners one day transferred everything over to a different friend in the server. Leaving without a word of warning, the server was wiped in seemingly random places. Our bots were gone, channels were randomly missing/deleted, and every single channel that remained was empty. In a desperate attempt to get things back to normal, I tried figuring out how bots work on discord (which ended horribly), but thanks to @comp-lady , whole spent hours rebuilding our server from the ground up. She knew how to use the bots and had experience in managing servers. The Wipening, as we call it, left us anxious and traumatized. A whole thread for fics was gone, important pins, gone, but we built it back up with what we could.

Despite the stress that came with The Wipening, a more notable event that we enjoy to share is one you may have seen a while back as well. Two of our fellow friends had experienced homelessness for months, as if anything couldn’t get worse, each day seemed to be another problem and stress for them. Living at their camp was becoming increasingly dangerous. With the help of our server and friends, a plan was made to get them somewhere safe, to get them out, and a gofundme was made to help fund their travel. They quickly met their goal and had moved in to a friend in the servers home with the help of another friend who drove them there. Our server and fellow fans and people in between helped get our friends to a safer place, helped get them out of homelessness.

Though we have faced difficulties in the past, we have built a wonderful and safe place for Sleep Token fans to interact with fellow fans. I’m glad to say that I’ve made friends in this server, I’m glad to say I’m willing to fight to keep this server alive.

And so I ask you, as long as you are 18+ (mind you this is an adult space), are you interested in joining us and celebrating our second coming year as part of Eden’s Rest?

#sleep token

6 notes · View notes

spicysix · 1 year ago

Text

anywhere u go

Argyle had no idea the living nightmare he was getting himself into when he first decided to follow Jonathan Byers. Well, he'd do it again in a heartbeat anyway.

rating: T

warnings: this fic includes weed, the teeniest hint of ptsd, questionable informations about the united states' AND the canadian's geography from a brazilian writer (so, probably, mistakes. look past them pls), also questionable english by a brazilian writer not beta-read, weather as a metaphor, and subtle pining.

word count: 5.6k

author's note: title from the song of the same name by Tove Lo. written for Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanwork Challenge, for the dialogue prompt “I’m really glad we did this”. thanks for hosting this amazing event @thefreakandthehair ♡

↳ read on ao3

If someone asked him, Argyle wasn’t sure he’d be able to retell the whole thing.

And, sure, maybe you could blame the weed a little bit. He might have partaken in it a few times here or there during the whole thing. It was right there in the van! How could he say no? Not at any of the big moments, though, of course not. He’s a stoner, not an idiot. He only smoked twice on the road when Jonathan was the one driving, that hotbox he did with Eden, beautiful goth goddess of his dreams, and once to prepare the pizza during the whole freezer piggyback thing (he likes being high when working in the kitchen okay, don’t go away judging). When they got to Hawkins, he only collected mushrooms, didn’t do them. He didn’t even have the time.

It wasn’t any kind of substance that made the next few weeks go by hazily.

It was just too much.

Chaos was installed when they arrived in Hawkins. Earthquakes had ripped open wounds into the soil of the small town — living, squeamish, bleeding wounds. Argyle learned later they were portals to the dimension under their own, where all the problems surrounding his friend’s family came from in the first place.

People were missing and hurt, some even died with the way the gates tore through houses and buildings, and the mood around Hawkins as they drove through it was rightfully sour.

Jonathan drove to his girlfriend’s house, some other people were already there and it was a beautiful reunion, it really was, but Argyle felt out of place. They parted ways after, and the ones that had been there already headed to the High School to drop some donations — except for Nancy, who went inside the van and into the passenger seat as if she owned it.

It had been Argyle’s.

But it was okay, he stayed in the back with the kiddos.

They went to the hospital, one of them — the one Supergirl had mentally piggybacked on — was hurt and in a coma. Argyle waited in the van as the rest of them went in to see her — he didn’t know her, didn’t want to invade their space.

After the visit they headed to an old cabin in the woods, abandoned, destroyed, pieces of its ceiling missing. Jonathan said Supergirl used to live there with her dad, the dead cop, and while they all reconnected and cleaned up the place, Argyle found those mushrooms that he didn’t use.

Didn’t even have the time to, because suddenly it was snowing ashes and he found his friend and his friend’s family — including his mom and a tall skinny bald guy, where did they come from? — looking over the city from the hill and the open field, and the flowers were dead and there was smoke coming from the place where all the portals met downtown.

Too much happening at the same time, and suddenly Jonathan was grabbing Argyle’s wrist and pulling him back to the van, “let’s go get the others, oh and by the way the tall skinny bald guy is the dead cop, oh and by the way my mom went to the Soviet Union to rescue him, oh and by the way the world is ending.”

So they went back to the hospital, to warn the siblings that were keeping watch over the comatose redhead, but they didn’t wanna join them back. Told Jonathan to reach through the walkies if he needed them.

So they went to the school, found the pretty guy and the cute girl that looked and acted like siblings plus the small curly one, pretty guy told them all they could go to his house cause it was big and clean and empty and they could use it as headquarters. Nancy shivered at the suggestion, her jaw tensed and Jonathan looked at her with caution, but they all agreed anyway.

So they went to pretty guy’s house, it really was big and clean and empty — all sadly so. The ones coming from California took their much needed showers, un-dead cop called a friend of his and told him to come meet them, the kids reached out to the siblings in the hospital to let them know where they all were.

It was too much.

Argyle set the water of his shower to the coldest temperature he could bare to try and shock some sense into himself. Looked at his reflection in the mirror and if it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t know all the shit that guy went through that last week. Government agents dying in his work van that he ended up stealing, a superpowered girl he helped rescue, an evil dimension with an evil wizard, people in comas and people coming back from the dead, gates to the underworld burning through a small town — and how he got roped into all of that by following a friend across the country.

He’d say he was a pretty good friend at that point.

He waited in the living room with the others as everyone went through rotations of showers, and cute girl made him a sandwich and it was nice of her, Little Byers sat by his side cause he was one of the only people who knew Argyle, and it was nice of him. When Jonathan arrived all cleaned up and smelling soapy, he sat by Argyle’s other side and Argyle felt himself relax if only a little.

They waited until un-dead cop’s friend showed up, and for some reason he showed up with two other Russian guys and a government lady and oh boy was Argyle even more confused.

Everyone took their turns retelling their own stories and gluing all the pieces together, and it was a somber story, it was bad as a horror movie and Argyle kind of wanted to throw himself out the window and get in the first bus back to California but he had no one there and in here he at least had the Byers. They were a good family, the closest to one Argyle had. So he stuck around through the puzzle.

Once in a while they referenced something that had happened in the years before and Argyle didn’t get the references because he hadn’t been there but he was sure Jonathan could fill him in later. Or he wouldn’t, and Argyle wouldn’t mind that either because it would at least save him from nightmares.

There had been losses, some friend of theirs in Hawkins — small curly one seemed to be the most affected by it, and Supergirl’s boyfriend was also really upset when he learned the news. Besides him, other three teenagers were victims of the evil wizard, plus their friend who survived but was in a coma.

On their side, a doctor dead and a doctor missing — apparently captured by the side of the government that was trying to kill Supergirl, that government lady said. Not her side trying to kill Supergirl. Another side. But apparently the doctors could help and it was relevant to know about their situation. The parents didn’t seem to agree a lot, and neither did Supergirl.

Un-dead cop’s friend made a joke about how at least on their side only bad commies had died, but the joke didn’t land. They weren’t in a nice mood for jokes.

It was too much, everyone talking about terrible things happening and talking over each other and Argyle’s head was about to explode in pain so at some point when they were all going through the timeline for the third time, he escaped and headed outside through the front door.

Jonathan found him after a couple of minutes.

“Is this too much?” he asked, and Argyle nodded. “I’m sorry. Wish we could smoke right now,” he said.

Argyle hummed, “It’s gonna look real unprofessional of us if we do, though, right?”

“It really will.” Jonathan chuckled, but it was dry and humorless.

They just stood there in silence for a few minutes, and Argyle’s fingers were trembling a little and maybe it was abstinence, probably was, but the clouds were fucking red and the smoke still made ashes rain down and it was terrifying.

“We should go inside,” Jonathan said after a while.

Argyle sighed and followed him in.

Over the next week they all hung out almost exclusively in pretty boy’s house (pretty boy’s name was Steve, Argyle learned. He dated Nancy before Jonathan did. They had a weird thing going on) and planned for the next step they’d take into, hopefully for the last time, saving the world. Well, it was Argyle’s first, but it still counted right. The kids called their parents and they all seemed to trust the old teens to be good babysitters even during the apocalypse, plus Ms. Byers and the un-dead cop were of course to be trusted.

Argyle was mostly tuned out of everything, but that was okay, firstly because he was the last one to join the mess and didn’t know the details as well as the rest of them, and it wasn’t a good use of their time to explain it to Argyle time and time again when they could be plotting strategies. So Argyle took over pretty boy Steve’s kitchen and kept his battalion fed and strong for battle.

The other reason he kept tuned out was, of course, so he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.

Keeping himself entertained with cooking — and, not going to lie, a little weed here and there when they found it — was the only thing still keeping him from that original plan of throwing himself out the window and catching the first bus back to California.

Sometimes the rest of the Party — as they called themselves, what a weird bunch — would help or at least keep him company. Un-dead cop’s friend (un-dead cop was Hopper, friend was Murray) was a great cook as Argyle already knew from that risotto, but he was also really weird and gave Argyle the creeps. Ms. Byers kept telling him to call her Joyce, tried her best in the kitchen and her food wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t good. He liked talking to her, though. Cute girl — pretty boy Steve’s platonic soulmate, Robin — was real funny and a delight to talk to, but a fire hazard personified and not allowed near the stove. Steve could bake some mean breakfast and he was also really cool, Argyle didn’t know why Jonathan was so adamant about keeping a grudge.

“You’d like Eddie, he was a dealer,” Steve said one night as they sat in the backyard staring at the pool and smoking what was left of Argyle’s purple palm tree delight. “And he for sure would like you, and this.” Steve waved the joint around before handing it back to Argyle. Steve’s smile was sad, and Argyle hadn’t known the guy so he didn’t know how to feel or what to say. So they just kept smoking.

Nancy was how Argyle found out about the whole story between her, Jonathan and Steve — and Argyle understood partly why Jonathan held a grudge. Steve was a nice guy now though, Nancy said and Argyle knew it was true because they talked and smoked a lot late at nights, but it wasn’t his place to tell Jonathan how to feel about his girlfriend’s ex who called him slurs, physically fought him and then saved his life more than once. It was a tough spot, alright.

The kids were something else. He barely saw the siblings — Lucas Erica, the ones at comatose redhead’s, Max, bedside. They were, all three of them, constantly brought up, though, and it almost made it seem like they were there all the time. The small curly one, Dustin, seemed to think he was touched by god’s wisdom at all times, and it could be funny but it could also be a little annoying. He was pretty Steve’s favorite, though. That was interesting. Little Byers (Will) and Mike — Supergirl’s now ex-boyfriend — had something going on but Argyle wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what. Jonathan went grumpy anytime they were together, and his older brother protective act was amusing.

Supergirl — Jane, El — was Argyle’s favorite though, and there was no competition there. She was weird and tiny and badass and adorable and a huge menace, not only in the way that she could literally blow things up with her mind, but because she could be a little troublemaker kid in the best way a kid should be a troublemaker in. She was sweet and delicate and just so fucking little, and her shoulders were too tiny to hold all the weight they carried, so Argyle did his best to bake her the frozen waffles she loved, told her funny exaggerated stories so she’d laugh, gave her tight hugs whenever she needed them. It was sad that she needed them a lot. But she always thanked him and told him his hugs were the best hugs ever, so he’d hug her once again before letting her go. He liked that she smiled a lot near him. The world owed her more smiles, and he was glad to take that task.

Jonathan did his best to make Argyle feel like he was part of it all. Argyle wasn’t so sure if he even wanted to be a part of it all in the first place, but since he was dragged to it without any other option, he was glad he at least had Jonathan by his side. He chose to pair up with Argyle when they were assigned guest bedrooms in Steve’s big house so Argyle wouldn’t be alone, even if he could be with Nancy. He never scolded Argyle for smoking because he knew Argyle did it to cope, to calm down, to get less stressed and anxious — and he knew the situation was stressing and anxiety-inducing as hell. He never complained if Argyle didn’t participate in their planning sessions because he knew Argyle’s lack of previous knowledge would probably just slow them down, and once during the night he said he’d do anything to leave Argyle as out of it as he could, that he felt guilty for bringing Argyle into all of it in the first place.

Argyle blamed him, it really was kind of Jonathan’s fault, but he also forgave him.

He forgave him the second after it all happened.

He would probably follow Jonathan anyway even if he knew beforehand where he was headed to.

He followed Jonathan into the final battle against that slimy, evil, twisted, disgusting son of a bitch. He followed Jonathan with homemade armor and homemade weapons, and a courage he didn’t really have. He followed Jonathan, El, Will, and Joyce — and all the rest of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family. He was stuck with them now forever, he knew it. He wasn’t complaining. They were his family now, too.

But that specific day, that was the one that was the most blurred out. Maybe it was a coping mechanism that his fucked up brain came up with to give him a rest, or maybe it was his brain too fucked up from all the weed usage, but he was glad either way. If someone asked him, Argyle was sure he wouldn’t be able to retell the whole thing.

It was way too much. He was glad he didn’t remember.

They were all alive and sore and bruised and hurt after it, and they all still stayed in Steve’s big house — to make sure they were all together if it wasn’t really over, and because they healed better as a pack. The government lady had found her lost doctor sometime in the middle of it all, and the whole Party got some good deals out of everything. Argyle wasn’t even going to be sued by Surfer Boy Pizza for stealing a company van. He actually got to keep it, and he took out the surfboard from the roof, took out all the company stickers, cleaned it up real good and it ended up looking like a regular beautiful yellow van where no man had ever died inside.

El seemed to have lost her powers for good this time, but she was relieved. Will was never haunted by the creepy chills in the back of his neck again. Max woke up, and she was blind and would probably never walk again, but she was so grateful. Argyle cooked her favorite food — information provided by El — when she was released from the hospital, and of course she was led straight to Steve’s house. She didn’t know Argyle before the apocalypse almost took her away, but she thanked him with a beautiful crooked smile of a girl who defeated death, and everyone surrounded her with love and warmth and everything was almost perfect. They were acting like the kids they were. They were allowed to, now. The only thing they’d have to worry about from now on was school and homework, the occasional regular teenage problems. No more evil scientists, no more evil wizards, no more evil dimensions. Just, a bad grade in Latin, or having an unrequited crush, a pimple in the middle of their foreheads. Argyle was so happy for them.

Jonathan and the rest of the older ones also got to go back to normal. Steve and Robin’s only worry was finding a new job. Nancy and Jonathan finally talked it out and resolved their issues — by breaking up. Nancy would go to Emerson, Boston, as she wished, and Jonathan didn’t want to and it was fine. They had grown too much, apart from each other in the few months they were away. They didn’t need to be each other’s grounding points anymore, because they could find other people and find themselves and worry about regular young adult stuff like a bad grade in Journalism 101 or the fact they were out of weed or photographic film.

Jonathan wanted to go to New York.

Argyle could get on the first bus back to California, but he had no one there and that was okay, because here he had Jonathan. Jonathan, who Argyle crossed the country for, who Argyle walked into Hell for, who Argyle would probably follow anywhere.

So Jonathan decided to go to New York, and Argyle decided to follow him.

They took the renewed regular yellow van where no man had ever died, belts buckled in for the first time ever because they valued their lives a whole lot now. They took an atlas from Robin’s collection, a few pre-rolled joints Steve bought from god knows who, a bunch of snacks the kids gathered for them, clothes they borrowed because they ran away from California with no bags, and a tight hug from each and every one of their weird, codependent, brought together by disasters, wrecked and beautiful found family.

They took the I-69 to Indy, the I-70 to Pittsburgh, the I-76 to Philadelphia, and the I-95 to New York. Twenty hours on the road was nothing considering it took them three days to get from middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Nevada) to middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere (Indiana). They took turns driving, stopped for gas and lunch and dinner and a smoke session, slept in the back of the van in a parking lot until they weren’t high anymore, arrived in New York as the sky was pouring down on the city.

“The rain is nice,” Jonathan commented as he looked through the window in the passenger seat.

It hadn’t rained in Hawkins ever since the world almost ended. No matter how many times they showered, bathed, scrubbed all the grime and dirt and blood away, sometimes it still felt like they weren’t clean. The town was definitely still dirty.

“The rain is nice,” Argyle agreed.

They kept driving around, they got trapped in traffic, they got screamed and horned at, they laughed back because it felt nonsensical to be mad about cars in streets. They stopped at a diner, ate a bunch of eggs sunny side up, to counter the weather, watched the regulars and the waitresses and the cook in their routines, and they smiled at each other because it was so nice to see normal things for once. People living their normal lives. Not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids in the corner booth almost died so they could be spilling coffee on the counter and getting their mouths dirty with grease.

They asked for a cheap recommendation on a place they could rest, drove a little more, got a little more trapped in traffic, got a little more yelled and horned at, until they found the shitty motel that the waitress promised was decently cleaned no matter how fucked up it looked on the outside. But their expectations bar wasn’t high, anyway. They had two beds, separated by a tiny nightstand table, and they fell asleep turned to face each other, curtains open and bathroom lights on because the darkness couldn’t be trusted.

Next day emerged with the clouds all gone, the weirdest of contrasts, and a chilly wind kept throwing Argyle’s hair to all sides and Jonathan kept looking at him with a soft smile whenever it whipped his pale skin. They left the van in the motel and walked and walked and walked until their feet hurt, had no idea where they were going and no exact place to go to, a joint shared and their fingers touched and their mouths wrapped around the same paper. It was nothing, and it was everything.

They watched people passing by, everyone in such a hurry, people scowling and people smiling and people somehow with their expressions completely neutral. People living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware that the two weird kids walking shoulder to shoulder almost died so they could be running to catch the subway or signing for a cab to stop.

They managed to get back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, turned to face each other, curtains open, bathroom lights left on.

Jonathan wanted to go to NYU.

Ever since he was six years old, he told Argyle. The Tisch Photography program was a big one, his dream ever since he had a bowl cut worst than Will’s, when his father was still home and his mom wasn’t overprotective because none of them knew monsters existed just under their feet.

Jonathan’s eyes gleamed as he spoke about the university, so Argyle offered and Jonathan agreed, and the next day Jonathan hopped on a subway train and Argyle followed him.

The subway was too much, Argyle noticed. He shared a look with Jonathan over someone else’s shoulder and knew they were thinking the same.

They went south south south to Greenwich Village with its pretty brownstones and its artsy students roaming around, so many of them, and Jonathan stopped across the street looking at the Tisch building for a long time, inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk, his fellow hipsters having to walk around him. Argyle looked at Jonathan the whole time, saw it firsthand as his gears turned, as the gleam in his eyes faded, as the wrinkle in his forehead deepened.

“Too much?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded. “For now, at least.”

Argyle just started walking and Jonathan followed, and they just walked across Greenwich Village until they were at the pier and they looked at New Jersey from afar, all the ferries crossing the Hudson, people still in a hurry all the goddamn time and Argyle’s fingers tapped against the railing that was there to stop him from falling into the water. He kinda wanted to do it just to see what it would feel like. He lost track of time staring at the water, and the boats, and the people on the boats living their normal lives, not a single one of them aware of the two weird kids on the pier that almost died so they could cross the river on a daily basis; and he felt Jonathan staring at him and maybe it should’ve been the other way around.

“Wanna try again?” he asked after, maybe, hours, and Jonathan nodded.

They walked back, Jonathan stopped inconveniently in the middle of the sidewalk across the street, stared at the Tisch building for what wasn’t longer than a minute and a half.

“Too much,” he decided.

They took the subway back north north north to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed and still felt unclean, collapsed on their separate beds again, curtains open, bathroom lights left on. Jonathan turned away and slept looking at the wall. Argyle slept looking at Jonathan’s back.

Sun was still out bright the next day.

They went out silently for breakfast at a café a few blocks down, heard the weirdest fucking story told by the people sitting at the table next to them. One look at each other and they were back at the motel, into the van, across the bridge, east east east into Long Island and clouds started to appear the more further east they went.

Montauk sure had that creepy energy hanging in the air, as if everyone was constantly waiting for the shoe to drop, but it somehow didn’t feel as world-ending as Hawkins did. Jonathan whispered that if Will was there, he’d probably be scratching his neck by now. They kept heading east, into the State Park, to the lookout, out of the van. Stared at the ocean. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contained, and it should’ve been too much but Argyle let out a long sigh and breathed in deeply, a single drop of rain touched his forehead and it felt good.

They went back to the van, back to Manhattan, back to the motel, took their showers, scrubbed a little less, collapsed on their separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom lights left on, turned to face each other again. They said nothing. There was a constant hum from somewhere outside the motel, in the neighborhood, that lulled them to sleep. Argyle thought he heard Jonathan call for him but when he opened his eyes again Jonathan was snoring lightly. Argyle smiled at the view and fell back to unconsciousness.

Clouds were back the next day.

They checked out of the motel, Jonathan took the seat behind the wheel, headed back to I-95 again and hit the pedal hard. They drove for about half the time as they did from Hawkins to New York, never leaving the I-95, looking through the windows as they drove past New Haven, Providence, Boston, plus some stupidly small and completely forgettable towns in Maine.

They only left the I-95 when they passed the border, when the Highway didn’t exist anymore.

“Will they know we have weed?” Argyle asked as they were growing closer to the customs. They only had a single joint left, but it was worrying anyway.

“Don’t think they’ll check,” Jonathan answered, and he didn’t seem bothered at all.

Argyle doubted they would be able to cross, he didn’t even have a passport, but Jonathan was thankfully right. The guard asked for their drivers’ licenses only, where they were headed and what they were doing — Jonathan said they were on a roadtrip. When the guard asked how long they were planning on staying, Jonathan said “enough days to see a bit of the three east provinces”, and that’s when Argyle was sure the guard would tell them to turn around and get the fuck out, back to bumfuck-nowhere, Indiana. But he just nodded as he inspected the photos on their documents, and when he handed them back along with a pocket-sized canadian atlas he said: “Have fun.”

And that was it.

Argyle’s shoulders dropped from where they had situated above his ears as Jonathan waited until the customs couldn’t be seen from the windows anymore so he could hit the pedal hard again, this time on what they called the Trans-Canada Highway (information provided by the pocket-size atlas gifted to them by a random and kind government employee).

Jonathan drove for about an hour and a half after they crossed, and Argyle’s sudden drop of adrenaline made him doze off for a while before he woke up as Jonathan was parking at a motel. He looked around, saw some signs, picked up the pocket-size atlas from where it had fallen off to the floor of the van.

“You wanna stay in…” he checked the atlas, “Fredericton, New Brunswick? This was your destination all along?” he asked with a grin.

Jonathan chuckled. “I’m just tired for today. But I wanna keep going, actually. If that’s okay?” his eyes were suddenly filled with doubt, and oh no, Argyle couldn’t have that.

“Absolutely, my man. Point where and I’m headed right behind ‘ya,” he was smiling, and his tone was light-hearted, but he was being the most honest he ever was.

Jonathan seemed to get it, because he was looking back at him with that reserved soft smile of his and Argyle’s brain went a little fuzzy, but it was probably from the nap he took.

They went inside the motel, finally, got their bedroom with two beds, separated by nothing but a few inches, and Argyle’s first instinct was to actually bring them together so they’d be just one big bed, but he restrained. They took showers, didn’t really scrub a lot, collapsed on their barely separate beds, curtains closed, bathroom light left off, turned to face each other. Argyle fell asleep with a smile on his face, and if he didn’t dream it, Jonathan had one of his own on his lips.

Next day was more than cloudy, it was pouring rain again.

Jonathan sat behind the steering wheel once more, hit the pedal and they headed east east east, so far east that Argyle feared for a second that they were going to reach the border of the world or something. They crossed New Brunswick and almost reached Nova Scotia, but then Jonathan took a sharp turn north.

“An island, man?” Argyle asked as they crossed the bridge to Prince Edward. Jonathan just shrugged, but he was smiling wider than Argyle had ever seen him smile before. Not bothered at all. It was a good sight to see.

The capital city was on the southeast, but Jonathan kept going north again. It seemed like they were almost at the end of the island before he finally stopped, at some stupidly small and completely forgettable town.

“This place has probably half of the citizens of Hawkins,” Argyle noted.

“I need a phone,” Jonathan said.

His smile didn’t falter.

They found the single Bed & Breakfast the town had to offer, asked for a bedroom — it only had one bed, they didn’t mind and neither did the young lady in charge —, they asked to use their phone, “How much is a phone call to Indiana, you think?” Jonathan asked Argyle, smile turning into a wicked grin and Argyle had definitely never seen that, so the only answer he could come up with was a loud laugh.

Jonathan dialed.

Argyle saw the lady had a bong on her table, so he lit up their final joint.

They waited for the phone to be answered.

Jonathan’s eyes never left Argyle’s, and their wide smiles were like mirrors of each other. Argyle had no idea what Jonathan was up to, clearly no good, but Argyle was down to it anyway. He’d follow Jonathan in whatever disturbed plan he had, to whatever edge of the world he wanted to go to.

And, finally:

“Hop, hey, it’s Jon. I’m in Canada. Yeah, you heard it right, Canada. Do you think Owens’ FBI friends can do us a final favor?”

⟿

Argyle looks out the window.

In the reflex, he sees Jonathan, his head on Argyle’s shoulder, and he’s also looking out the window. It’s been like this for a few months now, just the two of them, in tandem, doing the same things. Synchronized. It feels good, the best he ever felt. Jonathan’s skin is warm against Argyle where their arms touch, and he smiles without even thinking about it. It’s been like this for a few months now, smiling around just at the thought or sight of Jonathan. It feels good. The best he ever felt about someone.

“I’m really glad we did this,” Jonathan mumbles against Argyle’s shoulder.

This: a trip along the coast to a different country? This: bribing the government for a new beginning in a town so small and forgettable that no monster, human or not, could find them again? This: getting a house of their own, a fucking boat and a fishing license, a truck they could drive down to Charlottetown on good days?

This: falling in love in the process?

Argyle’s not sure what Jonathan is referring to. He’s really glad too, either way.

Argyle looks at their small world out the window.

It’s Sunday morning, commerce is all closed, streets are empty. The sun is covered by clouds, a summer thunderstorm approaching, and he can see the sea from here. There’s no one at the beach. The waves look nice. All that amount of water, the vast nothingness of the view and the wide greatness it contains.

It’s not too much. It’s nothing at all, actually, and it’s everything.

And it’s perfect that way.

#jargyle #jonathan byers x argyle #jargyle fanfic #jargyle fic #jargyle oneshot #argyle x jonathan byers #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #should've posted this tomorrow on jargyle jursday but oh well. what's done is done

62 notes · View notes

eastofedean · 9 months ago

Text

guys is it weird to call a guy you never even met after your girlfriend broke up with you?

#yes this is about my stanford fic #it's all about finding comfort in a person you never met #because it feels like you've known them your whole life #and you're in your twenties and you're spending most of your days alone #and you want to form connections but your hunting buddy couldn't handle your life and neither could your girlfriend #but there is this guy who listens to you and doesn't think you're crazy and he has a kind voice and you wonder if he looks just like you #imagine him and he hosts a music show on the radio even tho he doesn't know shit about music #and he tells you stories so fantastic and strange and he is way too serious sometimes but when he laughs you wonder what it would be like #to see him smile. to see his eyes narrow with an expression of joy on his face. and you wonder if his lips are as soft and as sweet as his #voice sounds #and suddenly you wonder what happened to you in the last few month since you first talked to this guy. maybe there is something wrong #with you because when you lay down on the backseat of your car. covered by a leather jacket that is way too big for you....#yeah that's when you start to think 'what did this bastard do to me.'#we met at the end of eden fic #txt.

3 notes · View notes

neolxzr · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Quin! 4 or 5 for the ask game?

HIHI LOKI!! of course!!

4. what got you into enstars? -- ive been sort of aware of enstars ever since i was into love live back in like 2018-19 but i dont think i wouldve gotten into it if it werent for engstars!! it really made the series more accessible lol i wasnt really willing to try really hard looking for translations until i was at least a little bit interested in what the series had to offer. i played the game at launch casually for a while and then i watched the anime and then i read meteor impact and some other mostly ! era stories and i was long gone by then

5. what's your favorite headcanon about the character you produce? -- i have a bunch of headcanons abt aira but im most fond of my hc's about his relationship with rinne!! i hope the writers will explore their dynamic a little bit more in the future because i think they're funny. theyre just a guy and his little brother's girlfriend boyfriend you know?? heres some of my hcs abt them owo sorry if this is long

rinne has asked hiyori on a couple of occasions to get him exclusive eden merch and specifically merch of himself so he can give it to aira. he doesnt realize that eichi and rei both regularly try to outdo eachother in the 'giving aira idol merch' competition but he is beating both of them on accident

whenever hiiro or kohaku are in anything that arent their normal units (like puffy bunny/la mort) aira and rinne form a sort of truce so they can go support them together. hiiro thinks its very sweet and kohaku is very very embarrassed

aira was a fan of rinne back in his solo idol days and he owns a couple of merch things of him and he is trying to take that secret to his grave

(also addon to the last one if we are assuming transboy aira which i usually am. he went to a handshake event once to meet rinne but rinne doesnt recognize him bc he was still a girl when they met awawwaw)

rinniki and hiiai and also hinata all play games in the sweets dorm together sometimes :o aira is scared of his roommates and rinne can rarely ever get in the bathroom in his own dorm (hiyori is doing skincare or whatever and kanata is. in the bath) so they both end up in there a lot. amagi family bonding. sometimes yuta or tetsu join too. its very crowded

aira calls him rinne-niisan on accident once and never lives it down

sometimes aira asks rinne for advice or just to listen to him when he's feeling really shitty and rinne is a good listener and big brother did you know. read my fic

OK THATS ALL sorry <- lying

#cryn answers #blackbirdloki #loki tag #enstars #airaposting #rinneposting #sorry i love them did you know #ask game

14 notes · View notes

crafty-lei · 1 year ago

Text

Good Omens: on the origin of demons

Ok bare with me, it’s very late and this is only half formed thoughts, but I have THOUGHTS. Read on at your own peril and beware, here be spoilers!

Ok, premise 1: all demons are fallen Angels

Premise 2: Angels can and potentially have had their memories stripped from them

Headcanon: Demons’ memories are stripped from the when they Fall, which there are already dozens of posts about this idea that Crowley forgot everything, including meeting Furfur and Saraqael. This has a few sad implications - Crowley probably doesn’t remember that first meeting with Aziraphale, for one, he probably thinks they met in the Garden.

But my actual thoughts behind this were Gabriel and Beelzebub and I thought, what if they knew each other Before? What if, and bare with me on this, Beelzebub was once Raphael?

Raphael is missing from Heaven, we know this, and a lot of people think Crowley might have been Raphael, but I have a different theory on Crowley. But Raphael was one of the most powerful Archangel, so would make sense that after the fall they became one of the most powerful Demons. And Raphael, Gabriel and Michael in religious literature are typically depicted closely together, but Crowley was off in the Universe building nebulae. So I think that Crowley wasn’t Raphael, and thought, but hey, what if Beelzebub WAS? And they and Gabriel were so so close, then they were gone and Gabriel was in charge alone. Then armegeddon’t happened and suddenly Gabriel has Raphael back, someone who knows what it’s like, but not, because Beelzebub doesn’t remember. It makes their connection make more sense, and also makes the gift of the fly more poignant and painful - because Beelzebub knew what might happen if they were caught and wanted to protect Gabriel.

So then, who was Crowley? Well first, who is Satan? See, Satan is different than the demons, a bit like God to the Angels, up there but separate. And that made me think that maybe, Satan wasn’t a fallen Angel. The whole Lucifer fell and ruled hell thing developed a bit later in religious literature and for a lot of the Abrahamic religious texts, Satan and Lucifer are not the same. So I think that Satan is like God’s evil counterpart, which also makes sense with the Job incident - like God playing games with Her brother the devil.

At this point, I’m reminded of s BTVS fic I read many years ago, where the premise is that vampires are not actually inherently evil, but the turning ‘empties’ them of morality and conscious etc., like a newborn baby, and they have to learn it all again, except they are taught by their Sires, who were taught by their Sires etc., to be evil and kill humans. And, well, that’s a lot like what happened to the Demons - they are emptied of their memories and sent away, so then their morality is ‘filled’ by evil!God Satan, who teaches them to be evil. But they still are not inherently evil, so they can choose to be good. And Crowley does, over and over.

This leads then to the discussion that was had between Crowley and Aziraphale about the poor people, Elsbeth and Wee Morag, and the idea that it’s easier to be good when you start in good circumstances, and Aziraphale saying that there’s more opportunities to choose to be good, like that isn’t how he thinks of Crowley - choosing good even though he probably shouldn’t, and then that made me want to cry remembering the end of episode 6 and how in love and how stupid these two are.

So - who is Crowley, in that case? Crowley who temped Eve in Eden, who showed Jesus all the Kingdoms of the Earth, who created nebulas - star factories - and brought light over and over (he says ‘let there be light’ as an Angel and again to Gabriel). Who else could he be than the - also conspicuously absent - light bringer, God’s favoured son, Lucifer? Only now, he doesn’t remember any of it.

Anyway just some thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone, here, enjoy them.

#good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 2

7 notes · View notes

proserpinewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Gonna end up doing a whole side series of quests that don’t fit in the main fic, otherwise known as ‘post-ending Deacon discovers his girlfriend was abducted by aliens once’ once we get to Cabot House and ‘what do you mean you met John Henry Eden and turned his computer ass off’ for the mechanist plotline.

#hillary speaks

1 note · View note

kiatheinsomniac · 2 years ago

Text

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day thirty: age difference - Thranduil

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

notes: I told myself I wouldn't write any more long oneshots for kinktober and did I listen? No AHAHA which is why this is late BUT this fic marks the end of my kinktober! This was so much fun and I'd love to do it again next year with Eden! This is my first time writing daddy kink and I would like to just really emphasize that all characters are 18+ and I was hoping the mention of reader having some alcohol would help convey this however I later realised that might be misinterpreted as underage drinking otherwise lmao. Reader is an adult but it's just a family vacay, ok? Good. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy!

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut, NSFW, MDNI, age difference, older man/younger woman, modern! AU, mentions of alcohol consumption, daddy kink

You flipped through pictures of your holiday so far: of your family and that of your brother’s friend Legolas. Your fathers met through their sons and got on really well and so your two families had ended up planning a holiday together, staying in a flashy hotel on a hot coastline. In your hotel room, you revelled in the salt in their air from the balcony door, the quiet whir of the air conditioner, the cool chill of it against the aloe vera on your skin after being between the blistering sun and warm shade all day on the beach, near inhaling one of the books that you had brought with you for entertainment.

Speaking of entertainment, you were – very guiltily – finding that your fantasies were no longer restricted to the characters to your book but seemed to have latched onto Legolas’ father Thranduil. The epitome of a dilf, you had thought the first time you saw him. He looked like he had stepped right out of one of your fantasy worlds, Game of Thrones or something, and had just perfectly settled into the modern world – well, except for his rather pointed ears which his son seemed to have inherited from him. He was utterly gorgeous: possessing a towering height, a face that could strike envy within an angel, hair like flowing silk and a powerful sort of confidence about him.

Some stupid part of you was thrilled to be looking so dolled up in his presence tonight. You weren’t one to splash your cash on designer clothes but your heart had just been ensnared by this particular dress. The price tag was enough to put you off for a moment but it was just so beautiful and nothing that you would see everyday. It was a soft white and fell to your mid-thigh, short and sheer puffy sleeves, a dipping neckline that wasn’t low enough to really be considered anything scandalous. It had a sheer layer that shimmered slightly over the silky material of the dress that felt simply exquisite against your skin, the sheer layer being decorated with lacy butterflies and flowers that just slightly lifted away from the material they were sewn too. Trying it on in the fitting room really had been enough to tempt you into spending your money for that month. You couldn’t afford to treat yourself to anything else and had to be careful with your money until you got your next paycheck at the end of the month but as you sat down in the hotel’s restaurant, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it one bit.

Dinner was going really well and damn did Thranduil look good in those hunter green slacks and that white button down, undoing the top buttons and rolling up the sleeves- You had to stop yourself from nearly drooling as you glanced at the young man with long golden hair at the table, reminding yourself that you were thirsting over his father who was a widowed man. How terrible could you possibly be? Besides, even if he were seeking a partner, you were near sure that it wouldn’t be someone a year younger than his son.

And that was when dinner stopped going really well because your brother dropped his phone and, in reaching out to try and grab it before it hit the table, he knocked over your glass of vodka and orange juice which went rolling off the table and straight down your front and into your lap with how close you had been sitting to the table to avoid dropping anything in your new expensive dress. There was a big fuss about it, especially from your mother who got to scolding your older brother as though he were still a child but you weren’t interested in being fussed over or hearing your brother apologise, you were just upset over your new dress, the one thing you had treated yourself to in a long time, being ruined. You would feel stupid for crying about it in front of everyone – let alone in public – so you simply dismissed yourself from the table, saying you would return to the hotel to get out of the dress and take a shower, the orange juice already feeling sticky against your upper thighs.

So, you did exactly that. You left the restaurant to go to the lift where you went up to the floor of your hotel room, shifting your phone in your hand to get the keycard before remembering that you had left it on the restaurant table. How could you be so careless? Likely because you were very upset. You let out a single sob at how one bad thing had happened after another but caught yourself, knowing that you would have to face everyone again when you went to collect your key. So, you marched back up the corridor to the lift, pressing the down button before the doors opened to reveal Thranduil who then held up your key between two fingers.

“I thought you might need this.” His usual stoic face softened to a sympathetic look, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” He spoke, setting his hand between your shoulder blades and guiding you towards your family’s room, unlocking your door and holding it open for you. The door locked behind you. “You seemed so upset, I thought you could do with some company so you wouldn’t be alone with it this evening.”

“The evening?” You raised a brow at the implication of his words.

“Everyone else has decided to go out for drinks but I have an important work call to take in the morning so I had to pass on it anyway.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “I’m trusting your father will be able to keep Legolas in line.”

“He raised my brother, I’m sure he can manage anyone at this point.” You replied, making Thranduil laugh lowly and it quelled your want to weep for your ruined dress. But the silent tears were still there and you lowered your head to try and hide them, feeling that he would see you as silly and childish for crying over clothes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He cooed and watched as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the orange juice staining the lap of your white dress. You felt the mattress dip with his weight beside you and you kept your head down, cursing the hot tears brimming in your eyes, “it’s such a shame, it really is a beautiful dress.” He complimented and it made your heart flutter for a moment to know that he liked it. No, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t swoon over Thranduil – a widowed father – liking your little dress.

“It was expensive too…” You mumbled, “I don’t usually buy expensive clothes but this was just so pretty, I couldn’t put it back on the rack and I was skint for ages after buying it but I never really treat myself to stuff like this.” You sniffled as you did your utmost to stop your tears from spilling down your cheeks but you tasted defeat in their salt as they ran down to your chin and the corners of your mouth. Thranduil kneeled down in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, shushing you while affectionately swiping at your tears with his thumbs. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch and turn your face into his palm. He smelled like aftersun and some warm spice you couldn’t quite put a name to. Your lips just barely grazed against his hand and you fought the urge to press them to his skin over and over, settling for trying to steady your breathing instead.

While you were in turmoil, Thranduil was in his own. Here you were, such a sweet and beautiful little thing in tears with your lips against his skin as he knelt in front of where you were perched on the bed. If he could, he’d quell your tears with kisses and throw you back onto the bed and give you a reason to forget the ruined dress that you seemed to have treasured so much. But you were so much younger than him and should he make any sort of advance and you rejected it, everyone he was on this holiday with would be out for his blood. Your parents and brother would kill him and he was more than sure that his son wouldn’t like to find that he had tried to pursue a woman a year younger than him, his best friend’s little sister no less.

One of his hands on your face dropped to your knee, a safe enough place he thought: it could seem like he was keeping his balance while kneeling and it was not too far up your leg to be considered provocative. His thumb swiped once against your knee in the same way it had done beneath your eyes and he didn’t miss the way your thighs pressed together slightly. Arousal or recoil? He wasn’t sure and so he rose to his feet and withdrew from you entirely before he could possibly make you uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you get changed, hm?” He offered, “I’m sure that’s not comfortable to be in.” You nodded your head and got up to get changed in the privacy of the bathroom, pausing on the threshold of the door to announce that you would likely take a shower to wash off the stickiness from the juice. However, once you had stripped off your precious dress and started running the water, you realised that you had forgotten your hairbrush and so you wrapped yourself in a towel before going back into the room to grab it, finding Thranduil had been gazing out of the glass doors to the balcony before turning around to spot you. You suddenly felt very vulnerable and bare in just your towel and even Thranduil seemed surprised that you had left the bathroom in such a state of undress.

“Forgot my hairbrush…” You murmured, realising it might have even been better to put the stained dress back on just to grab it.

“I’ll see what I can do about your dress.” He replied and walked past you as you began to quickly brush out your hair. You could hear the tap run in the bathroom and when you had set the brush back down again, you stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway as you watched Thranduil soak your dress in hot water to try and lift the stain before it could truly steele into the fabric.

“I really appreciate the help but I’d like to be able to…” You trailed off, almost feeling as though you were rejecting his generous help, just desperate for the hot water of the shower to wash away some of your sadness at having your dress near ruined.

“I won’t look.” He simply replied, turning his body at a slight angle so that he could continue working your dress in the sink while his back faced the shower. You were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in the mirror, given the angle, and so you simply agreed with a quiet ‘alright then’ seeing as he had already turned around. You trusted Thranduil. The towel was set on the rack before you were under the steaming water, letting out a content sigh at the high temperature, beginning to wash your hair and then wash the stickiness of the orange juice from your skin. As you lathered your body in vanilla and honey scented bubbles, you couldn’t help but fantasise about the gorgeous man who stood no less than three metres from your naked form. He could so easily betray the trust you had placed in him, could gaze upon your exposed body, use the sight to spark lust. A part of you yearned for him to initiate something, to give you an excuse to just give into your desires if they were to be presented before you in such a ripe opportunity. Would he dare? You didn’t know how to provoke or seduce a man and so you found yourself improvising, against your better judgement. He was just so stunning and in fantasising about him, you had worked yourself up. You moaned at the feeling of the heated water against your skin, of the delectable scent of the soap on your body. You found yourself cupping your breasts in your hands as you rinsed yourself. Yet, Thranduil took no notice of you.

At least: he showed no signs of taking notice. His bright blue eyes were already stealing glimpses at you in the mirror, unable to see much due to the angle that he was standing at, fighting his impulses in an attempt to continue working at your dress as you showered behind him.

“Hey…” He heard your voice call out softly, “Do you think you could pass me the exfoliant on the counter? The beige tub with the white lid.” You asked and he found that his teeth were grinding slightly with how hard he had clenched his jaw. He found the item in question and stepped backwards, extending his arm backwards too in order to hand it to you.

“There you go.” He spoke, his voice slightly quieter but neutral, cleverly balanced out as to not betray a word of what was going on inside his head.

“Thank you.” Your voice had softened, was slightly airy as you took the tub from his waiting palm, your fingertips gliding against his wrist and down over his palm, your fingers almost wrapping around his as you savoured the small skin-on-skin contact. You might have been under the impression that the gesture would seem innocent enough, fumbling or clumsy even, but Thranduil knew much more than you, it came with his age.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice cut through the silence that was beginning to grow thick like the steam in the room.

“I-I’m sorry?” You stammered out, face instantly flushing at having been caught. Thranduil looked just slightly over his shoulder, his eye meeting yours from the very corner and wandering nowhere else on your exposed body. In your eyes he saw your naivete and yet he also saw a mix of fear and embarrassment at having been caught. You had been teasing him intentionally and the look on your face was all he needed to confirm such.

“Get out of the shower, Y/n.” His tone was quiet and yet no less authoritative than the voice you had heard him speak with over business calls. You swallowed hard and turned off the water, now feeling much more bashful and attempting to cover your bare chest with your arms. Thranduil took down the towel from the rack, warm, and wrapped it around your body, hands squeezing your shoulders momentarily before you gasped when his hands landed on your waist and hoisted you onto the counter. His hands gently patted you down, keeping you covered with the towel and you watched him do so with bated breath.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs, just above your knees where your towel didn’t cover them and he let out a soft sigh, pale blue eyes roving up to meet your gaze.

“Do you want this?” He asked and you swallowed hard. He didn’t need to elaborate on what it was he was offering. You nodded your head, eyes stealing a glance down to his lips. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“I want this…” Your voice was airy with a sense of excitement and anxiousness. His fingers trailed up your body until they were beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards and leaning in oh-so-slowly with lidded eyes, providing you with ample time to pull away should you realise that you did not want this. However, your hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers skimming against his neck as your lips collided. He felt you shudder against him as you arched your back and leaned into him, your body silently pleading for more contact as your fingers slid upwards and into his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan at discovering it felt just as soft as it looked. Thranduil’s hand under your chin slid to cup your cheek and his other hand slid down to squeeze at your hip. The kiss grew more heated and you felt light-headed as you tried to keep up with Thranduil’s pace, relieved when his lips began to trail down your neck, drawing soft sighs and moans from your lips that he fully intended on leaving kiss-swollen when he was done with you.

“Have you done anything like this before?” His voice had dropped as he hummed out the question against your pulse.

“I have…” You replied quietly and Thranduil seemed slightly surprised. Truthfully, he had been unsure but a part of him was almost so sure that you were a virgin. “He… put me off, I suppose. It ended up being a one-time thing.” Your face flooded with heat and you couldn’t meet Thranduil’s eyes as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“A boy your age?” He was met with a nod.

“He was… selfish, I suppose is the word for it.” You heard the man before you tut as his arms wrapped around you and his lips languidly peppered kisses from your temple, across the softness of your cheek and to your lips.

“I’m going to assume it was over before it could even begin for you and he left you unsatisfied.” He punctuated his prediction with a slow kiss to your mouth, nibbling your bottom lip.

“Yeah…” You breathed out as you felt him push your thighs apart so that he could slot himself between your legs and pull you even closer.

“Would you like me to show you real pleasure then, y/n? Pleasure given from a man who knows a woman’s body?” He was met with an eager nod.

“Yes please…” Oh, how well-mannered and adorable you were. He couldn’t resist crashing his lips onto yours once more and you felt him untuck your towel as he kissed you dizzy. You gasped when his hands cupped your breasts and he pulled away from your lips.

“Is this ok?” You eagerly nodded your head and your hands gripped the collar of his shirt to pull him back into the kiss, thighs squeezing your hips as you yearned to keep the closeness between you two. He smiled at your eagerness and relished in all the little moans you let out as he palmed your soft flesh and began to tweak your nipples between his fingers, testing how much you could take before letting out a little yelp into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and to coax you into a deeper kiss. Once more, his lips trailed down your neck and then even further down to the top of your left breast, pausing along the way to nip at your collarbone. His tongue poked out to lap at your damp skin before encasing one of your hardened buds in the warmth of his mouth and sucking down gently, earning a drawn-out moan from your throat while his hand paid attention to your other breast, assuring that it was not neglected.

He could gather from your reactions that this was not something you had experienced before and he couldn’t help but think on how undeserving that body must have been to have had such a pretty, responsive girl in his grasp and to still ignore her needs entirely.

“Thranduil…” You whimpered out his name when he switched breasts and you could feel him groan against your sensitive skin before he wrapped his hands under your thighs and hoisted you upwards, making you gasp and steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He carried you out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed with you in his lap, not wanting to potentially overwhelm you by putting you under him just yet. His fingers skimmed up your bare back and then went down to your hips, holding them firmly and lightly coaxing you to grind down on him as you were now straddling his lap. You could feel him gently roll his hips against you, creating such sweet friction. You buried your face against his shoulder to muffle the sounds of how good he was making you feel.

“I bet he didn’t focus on you at all, did he, y/n?” Thranduil’s voice cooed in your ear, dripping with a tone that just reminded you how naive you were than him in this. You simply clutched onto his shirt and shook your head, puffing out a content sigh as your clit caught against the material of his trousers. “I bet he didn’t even know how.” He continued, a hand reaching upwards to carefully stroke through your wet hair. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes please.” You murmured once more, face leaving the crook of his neck to tentatively kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Alright…” And he shifted you around so that you were laid back on the bed with your head against the pillows, his body hovering over yours, “But I have just one request for you, to make us both feel good, hm?” He suggested, fingers trailing up and down your side, tickling you slightly and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You nodded your head for him to continue, feeling his palms on your thighs, parting them slightly. “I’m older than you… more experienced… I want to take such good care of you…” He continued, leaning down to kiss you so tenderly, as though you were cracked glass or thin ice that was ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. “Why don’t you call me daddy, hm?”

“I…” You bit on your lip. You were aware of daddy kinks, sure, but were you into it? You had never put much thought to it.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to…” He said softly, hands roaming your body up and down as though trying to memorise the shape of you.

“No, it’s not that, I just… I don’t know if I’m into it, I suppose? I’ve never really thought about it.” You shivered slightly when his fingers skimmed between your hips, across your abdomen in a way that was pleasurable but also rather ticklish, watching as his eyes flicked up to meet yours in order to assess your reaction.

“How about this then:” He proposed, “I’ll tell you when to moan for me and we’ll see if you like it then, while I’m making you feel good, hm?” You thought over his suggestion for a moment before nodding your head, watching as he smiled before pressing a kiss to your navel. “Good girl.” He praised, “Spread your legs further for me.” You did as told and he kissed a trail down your skin until his hot breath was fanning against your pussy, finding you glistening with need already, dripping from your slit. “I’m going to use my mouth on you now, is that alright?” His lips pressed to your inner thighs in the meantime.

“Yes, it’s alright…” You mumbled out, bringing a hand up to press to your mouth in anticipation, your breath hitching and your fingers muffling a long moan when his tongue delved straight into your slit and pushed all the way up to your clit that he began to kiss and suck with such devotion. Your head fell back against the pillows and the hand against your mouth fell beside your head, gripping the plush fabric beneath it as Thranduil hoisted your thighs up on his shoulders and began dipping his tongue in and out of your walls. He kissed his way back up your slit before pausing, exhaling over you and drowning in the scent of your arousal.

“Moan for me now.” He commanded just before sucking down harshly on your clit the moment you opened your mouth.

“Da-addy~” Your voice broke and your hands shot down to tangle in his pale hair at the unexpected pleasure as you felt your thighs tense up and the beginnings of an orgasm rush over your limbs before crashing to your core where Thranduil held your hips down as he eased you through it, the first orgasm you had ever been given by another. He kissed your clit one final time, almost a farewell, before rising back up, chin glistening with your slick.

“There…” His thumb caressed your cheek and he watched how your body slightly trembled, “Did you enjoy it in the end?” There was a tone of amusement in his voice that told you he already knew the answer.

“Yes…” You breathed out.

“Yes, who?” He hummed and you let out a low whine.

“Yes, daddy.” You were rewarded with a kiss where you could taste yourself and you were much too aroused to have any disgust towards such a thing.

“Normally, I’d spend a lot more time on such a pretty thing like you, sweetheart…” He said, “But I don’t want to give you more than you can handle.” You moaned once more when his fingers prodded at your entrance, slipping one inside experimentally before quickly adding another. He stroked over that sweet spot inside you that had you whimpering beneath him, moaning out broken little phrases of ‘yes’ ‘please, daddy’ ‘more’ ‘just like that, daddy’ ‘please’ ‘so good’. Each one had him feeling much too hot and constricted in his clothes as he slowly fingered you, scissoring his fingers apart to feel how your walls had to stretch around them, trying to prepare you for the size of his cock. Eventually, he withdrew his fingers from your squelching hole and got to impatiently stripping off his shirt, rising to remove the rest of his clothing before he was practically diving on top of you once again, cock in his hand. You watched as he stroked himself in front of you, pressing the flushed and weeping head of his cock against the heat of your soaked slit. He reached for your legs and you let out a small grunt as he pushed them upwards, almost pressed to your chest.

“Hold them there for daddy…” He watched in adoration of your obedience as you immediately complied, “Such a good girl…” He resumed stroking his cock before lining it up to your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock up and down slightly over your entrance before pushing in deep. Arousal pooled within him at the yelped moan you let out and his hands squeezed your hips for a moment before he pushed the rest of the way in, revelling in the way you whined at the stretch of his cock in your tight walls. “Fuck, I know you’re going to take me so well…” Your cunt clenched around him at hearing him curse like that. You had never heard Thranduil curse, he always seemed much too refined for it and yet here that eloquence was, bleeding out of him all because of how inviting your pussy felt squeezing and fluttering around his cock. He couldn’t risk making a mess here in the hotel room that your family would return to later on in the night so he planned on making this part quick. He could always pamper you a bit and bring you back to his own room after.

A surge of pride filled him when his slow and harsh pace, each thrust kissing the deepest parts of you, had you quickly babbling at how good his cock felt inside of you. You had previously been unsure of how you felt about calling him daddy and yet here you were wantonly moaning it like it was the only word you knew.

“This is exactly what you’ve been missing out on, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning down by you so that he could press your legs even more, folding you into a mating press as his thrusts began to drill down into you, the head of his cock bittersweetly bullying your cervix with each thrust. “Having an older man who knows exactly what you need… an older man who knows your sweet- fuck- young body in ways that boys your age don’t.” His dirty talk had your nails raking down your back and high pitched moans squeezing from your throat, “That’s why you didn’t turn me down like all the other boys who you knew just wanted to use you.” He let out a guttural moan by your ear that almost turned into a whine when the sound made your body clench further down him. “Do you want to come again, y/n?” You quickly nodded your head, scrunching your eyes for a moment to try and quell the tears that were building in them. “Then ask for it, ask your daddy if he’ll make you come.”

“Daddy, please, please, can I come?” You pleaded. “Make me come again, please?”

“Oh, well, seeing as you asked so nicely.” You cried out when his thumb began to draw circles on your throbbing clit and you buried your face in his neck as your nails curled into his skin, muffling your sob as your thighs wrapped around him, tiny cunt spasming around his thick cock. Just as quickly as you had tensed up, you went limp and Thranduil used the opportunity to pry your legs from him and kneel over your body, stroking his cock with lewd noises made by your slick as he spilled his hot cum over your bare chest, making him moan at the sight. He laid down beside you and watched as you panted for breath.

Thranduil propped himself up on an elbow to lean over you, tenderly pushing wet hair away from your face and kissing from your temple, down your cheek, to the corner of your jaw. “You did so well, sweetheart…” He praised, “I’m so proud of you.” He punctuated his words with a kiss yet watched on as you still panted for breath, not yet down from your high. “Come,” He cupped your face to gently turn your head to face him, pressing his forehead to yours, “breathe with me now…” And he began to take in deep breaths, hold them and slowly let them out until your body had calmed right down and you turned onto your side and buried your face in his chest, caring very little about how his hair was tickling your face.

“I feel much happier now.” You laughed slightly, making him laugh too as he reflected on how you had been sobbing over your dress earlier.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He kissed the top of your head and smoothed your hair back affectionately. “I… I would much prefer this be kept a secret- '' He began, “-not because I only used you, no, I wouldn’t do that to you, but because I don't think our families would be all too happy. If you want to tell anyone what’s happened between the two of us, I understand but if we want to do this again, it might be best if we… see where things go before we tell anyone. This is just my suggestion but I leave the final decision down to you. I won’t tell you what to do.” You hummed and began to trace idle patterns on his skin with your fingertips.

“You would… do this again with me?” You highlighted.

“More times than you could possibly count, my sweet.” He replied with a slight laugh.

“I… would like to keep this between us while I see how things go then.”

“Very well…” He kissed the top of your head once more, “Let’s stay like this for a while then we can have a shower together, how does that sound?”

“Wonderful…” You hummed.

☾ ⋆ﾟ MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

☾ ⋆ﾟlike my work? why not:

∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@clumsycopy @edensrose @augustwithquills @involuntaryspasms @welcometomordor @asuni921 @breaddhead @spidergirla5 @fischchenlein @kristinkkd

#kinktober 2022 #tolkien kinktober #lotr kinktober #silmarillion kinktober #silm kinktober #smut #tw: smut #mdni #thranduil smut #thranduil oropherion #sassy thranduil #thranduil of mirkwood #modern thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x reader smut

710 notes · View notes

whyareyouhere66 · 2 years ago

Text

Charlie Conway x Reader - Exile

Charlie Conway x Gender-Neutral Reader

Angst - I’ve been thinking of maybe doing a thing, where I write stories/one shots that are based off song lyrics. Not like a song fic, per say, but just one lyric from a song and basing a story off of it.

“I think I’ve seen this film before…and I didn’t like the ending”

[Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver, Exile. 2020]

Is it a bit unfair to name this fic after the entire song, even though the song isn’t necessarily in it? Sure, but I didn’t feel like writing out the lyrics that inspired this one. So yeah, enjoy. warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, fighting, cursing. I think that’s all?

Reader is the guitar player in a band, and Charlie is y’know, a hockey player for the ducks.

Part 2

“Charlie, please just-“

“No y/n!! I don’t need you telling me what to do too!” Charlie says angrily, storming past you. The door slams loudly behind him, causing you to wince at the abrupt noise.

You let out a sigh. “Charlie…” you mutter, exhaustion clearly evident in your voice.

This was your 3rd or 4th fight, just in the past 2 weeks.

You heard his footsteps marching down the hall, quickly becoming distant as silence once again filled your room. “What am I doing wrong…?”

Salty tears began to stream down your face, any previous efforts to push them down failing. “Am I really that bad of partner? Why- why does this keep happening to me, I-“

You choked out a sob, hand going to cover your mouth instinctively as you sink into the mattress of the small, twin sized bed.

Tears fell and collected at the top of your hand, spilling over the side of your finger and continuing to fall until it landed on your lap.

Ugly noises erupted from your throat, rumbling through your chest. “Please, please tell me what I’m doing wrong…please..” you whisper, eyes squeezed shut.

You sat there for a couple of minutes, the worst part of your crying fit slowly calming down as your breathing slowed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the familiar green fabric of Charlie’s favorite hoodie. He’d left it there a couple days ago, leaving it on your desk chair after a study date.

You reached out and grabbed the green material, pulling the hoodie over your head.

His smell lingered on the fabric, neither relieving or worsening the dreadful feeling in your stomach.

You curled into a ball, face hitting the pillow as you continued to cry.

You didn’t bother pulling the blankets over yourself, his hoodie warming you as you cried yourself to sleep, the same thoughts of stress and sadness swirling through your brain.

*****

The Eden-Hall cafeteria was bustling with students and teachers alike, all chatting loudly amongst themselves. At a table just to the left of the cafeteria, you sat with your group of friends- band mates, to be exact. With a ham and cheese sandwich in one hand and a pencil in the other, Cameron (the bass player) was scribbling down ideas for a new song. To the right of you was Amelia, the pianist. And to the left, was Asher. He was on drums.

“Alright- now I think we should add a guitar riff here- y/n, you got that?”

Cameron asks, looking up at you. You nod, making a mental note to work on a good riff after classes.

“Ooh-ooh wait I got an idea for a chorus-“

Jasmine said enthusiastically, stealing the pencil and paper from Cameron (despite his protests.) She was our lead singer, and a good one at that. Best singer I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.

While she scribbled something down in the notepad, I noticed the Ducks walking into the cafeteria. At the front of them all was Charlie, accompanied by Fulton and Kenny. The sweat from hockey practice caused his jersey to cling to his skin, and his hair to stick to his beet-red face messily.

‘Guess coach has really been over-working them recently, huh…’

You ignored the voices of your friends, instead deciding to get up and walk to where the hockey players were. “Charlie.” You say, the boy’s face turning to meet yours.

A few of the ducks glanced at you, but since you didn’t talk to them as much it didn’t go any further then nods and a few waves. “What do you want, y/n.” He says. ‘Harsh, alright…’

Ignoring the clearly harsh tone in his words, you ask; “can we talk, please?”

He shakes his head, turning away from you. “Cant, I gotta get lunch.”

“Please, it’ll just be quick-“ you pleaded with him, stepping closer to him so you could still be seen out of the side of his eye. “Coach has been extra strict on us recently, I have to eat.” He says sternly, clearly exhausted. You felt slightly guilty for dragging him away from the well-deserved food, but it’s been so long since you’ve had a real conversation and that needed to end.

“I’ll give you the rest of my lunch, c’mon Charlie, please?”

He hesitates for a moment, before accepting the offer. He lets you drag him out of the cafeteria, the remainder of your lunch in his hand.

“So what’s this about?” He asks, his mouth being stuffed with what was previously your sandwich. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You’d rehearsed what you were to say to him, and now you finally had the chance. “I wanna talk about us.” You say, and he pauses eating for a moment. Looking up at you suspiciously, he cautiously takes another bite of the food. “..what about us.”

‘Just like you practiced..’

“I know, things are really stressful right now. You’re working your ass off with hockey, I’ve got my band and stuff. It’s a lot. But it’s just..” you pause for a moment, taking another breathe, and turning to face the hotheaded boy.

Charlie makes an odd face, as if he had eaten something sour. “…what was that face?” You ask curiously. “This sandwich is disgusting.” He says, dramatically forcing himself to swallow it. You scoff. “Alright your highness well I don’t have any other food, so if you’d just listen to me-“

“I was promised food. I’m hungry, y/n at hockey practice-“ you groan. “Will you forget about that for just a second? I’m trying to talk to you about something important right now-“

“I can’t listen on an empty stomach.” He says, a hint of anger and annoyance underlying the heavy, sarcastic tone. You look at him, and exhausted, disbelieving look in your eyes. The look lingers there, even when you turn your head away from him for just a moment.

“We’re fighting about sandwiches now, I can’t get in a serious conversation in without a fight, and it’s about fucking sandwiches..” the mumbles are mildly incoherent, being rushed out of your throat as all the stress was beginning to go to your head.

Charlie looks at you, somewhat offended. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Oh my god!” The words come out mimicking those of a shout, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I mean all we ever do is fight anymore Charlie! I’m tired of it!” You say.

The look you gave him was almost pleadingly. He did nothing more then glare, knowing you were right. But his ego wouldn’t let him admit that.

“Things are a lot right now, yes, but that doesn’t mean we get to treat each other like shit.” He remains silent.

“I’ve been, in relationships like this before. Toxic, and they’ve never ended well for either party…” you say, trailing off at the end.

“…well then maybe it’s not me, who’s the problem..if this has happened to you so often.”

The words stung, and he could tell. Your hands shook slightly, and despite the overwhelming guilt that hit him after he said that, he didn’t correct himself. “I can’t..do this..anymore..” you say, it almost coming out as a whisper.

A newfound fear strikes Charlie, his head snapping up at you. “…what?”

For once in the past couple of weeks, Charlie looked at you with emotional eyes- just this time, it wasn’t anger.

“Look, Charlie…I want you to be happy, and I want me..to be happy.”

“And we can be-“

“Yes, just not right now. Too much happening, with your hockey and my band…”

The boy looked at you desperately, already knowing what was about to come. “I want you to be the right person…but, it’s just the wrong time.” You say, e/c eyes glossing over with tears. “No, no please y/n I can fix this-“ panic was evident in his voice, stepping closer to you in the fear of you walking away.

“You can’t fix everything, Char…you’re only human..I think you forget that, sometimes.”

With that, you turned and brushed right past him into the cafeteria. Tears threatening to spill. you did the best you could to push them down upon arriving at your friends table, ignoring the questioning looks they shot you. It didn’t work, of course, Amelia pulling you into her side comfortingly as tears spilled out of your eyes and down your s/c cheeks.

Still in the hallway, Charlie stood there stunned. He lost you, you walked away just like he’d been scared of. “Fuck…” he muttered, he too beginning to cry. The reality of the past few weeks had finally hit him, and it hit him hard.

“Charlie?”

He spun around startled, met with the brown eyes of his fellow friend and teammate, Connie. Once she saw the wet streaks on his face, a sympathetic look took over her features. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug to which, surprisingly, he returned. The motherly-like embrace only strengthened his tears, the salty taste slipping past his lips occasionally as Connie patiently waited it out.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, the words being incoherent and unheard by his friend.

“I’m sorry…”

should I make a part 2?

#charlie conway x reader #charlie conway #gender nuetral reader #angst #mighty ducks #the mighty ducks #charlie Conway angst

154 notes · View notes