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jilixthinker · 2 months

Text

blackholes

=͟͟͞♡ jisung × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ parallel universes au

word count: 7.4K

synopsis: you can delude yourself and wait for the paint to dry and take away the evil. but the only truth, unique and unchanging, is that pain only creates more pain. you can close your eyes and believe otherwise, imagine another ending. but when you wake up, jisung is still sick and his illness is eating him from the inside.

content warning: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), angst, depression, mention of suicide, drinking and smoking, sufference, eventual happy ending (?)

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

A drop of crimson red paint is tapping on the ground at a regular rhythm. At first glance, to someone who is not trained to know how to observe, it might even look like blood. The fingertips from which the paint is dripping off are moving slowly over the paper, searching for the weak spot on the canvas. There is always one, where the fabric gives in and the color soaks deeper. The fingers probe its full extent until a small smile of intimate satisfaction appears in your face.

The breaking point is within the body portrayed on the canvas, right in the center of his forehead. It sparkles a little like an Indian diamond, and you dip the tip of your brush in the red paint that previously soiled your fingers. At the bottom corner to the right, near the tapered shape of the feet you have just finished painting, you trace a few words.

pain creates love.

The young man on the canvas is dazzlingly beautiful. His eyes are night onyx, deep as lagoons. His lips are the color of ripe cherries, swollen and tumid. He is portrayed nude, legs spread wide and arms outstretched toward the viewer. He exudes eroticism from every angle, yet he is far from vulgar. A few strands of inky hair hide the pale, flushed skin on his cheekbones. Slender, elegant fingers are stretched out to their full length as if to grasp the air. There is no background. The only foreign element to that body is the canopy on which the boy is slumped. The draped sheets caress his figure enhancing his nakedness without covering it. The only dissonant note in that marvelous sensual work, the only weak point, is the too-hinted blush on his forehead. It's almost not noticeable if you lose yourself in the full beauty of the portrait, but you see it, because you painted it and because it's part of the canvas, part of the subject. And it is singular, as him.

"It's a masterpiece".

The voice is off-screen, as if it's coming from another world. You don't turn to check who it belongs to, but you keep staring at your painting. The sound of small footsteps unravels in the air of the room. The parquet floor creaks at every inch.

"I am not fully satisfied with it".

You run the back of your hand over the fabric, as if the epidermis could erase the color and replace it with a different image. The voice approaches you from behind and blows a crystalline laugh as his shadow reflects off the picture, obscuring the white of the canopy.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. What's wrong with it?"

As you move your gaze from the painting to turn around, the exact copy of the boy portrayed on the canvas stands out in all his glory in front of you. His shower-wet hair frames his ephebic features like a wreath, and a tiny smile illuminates his face in a cascade of light.

"It's not like the original".

The boy shakes his head and time freezes. A few drops of water land on your neck.

"It doesn't have to be".

Sharpened fingers curl around the closed collar of your shirt and begin to loosen it. Button by button, the fabric slips off your figure and the young man in front of you kneels down to slip off your shirt and deposit hundreds of tiny kisses on your hands. When he stands up again, he approaches your body and touches it, appreciating every inch of it and covering it with attention. You lift you face and bite his cheek, losing yourself in the soothing smell of Sunday sex.

Pain creates love, you are quite certain of it. Loving someone who suffers means loving every single portion of their pain and making it your own. It is not easy to desire something so abstract, but there are people who try, with soul, body, bones and sweat. Some succeed, some fail, and some keep trying. You cannot identify yourself in any of these categories. You only knows that you love, unconditionally, without a specific goal. You love so much that the pain is now only the frame to a picture of yours, you love so much that the Indian diamond on the boy's forehead becomes almost invisible to your eyes. Almost.

You can delude yourself and wait for the paint to dry and take away the evil. But the only truth, unique and unchanging, is that pain only creates more pain. You can close your eyes and believe otherwise, imagine another ending. But when you wake up, Jisung is still sick and his illness is eating him from the inside.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You meet Jisung in the twilight of his nineteen years, when he is just a little lump of insecurity and imagination. He clutches a vanilla coffee in his left hand and a briefcase in his right, crammed with story incipits that he will never finish. He dropped out of school to become one of those freelance writers you see on the covers of magazines for intellectuals, the ones who live in unpronounceable French towns and smoke mint cigarettes while sipping aged cognacs. It must not be bad, he thinks, to be envied while basking in your self admiration.

When Jisung sees you, he is leaving creative writing school, and you are leaving art school. You have a white palette under your arm, open apron smeared with oil paints, and nose sniffing the air. In fact, Jisung doesn't really have time to see you, because fate plans to make him trip over you, causing his vanilla coffee to spill all over your pants.

With his face on fire and the excuse of dry cleaning to repay for the damage, you two get acquainted. Jisung discovers that you smoke mint cigarettes, like French writers. No cognac though, you say. You prefer gin. It goes down faster and helps me come up with new ideas for painting.

Jisung asks to see one of your works, but your condition is of him posing as a model for your next portrait assignment, because you had been looking for a face like his for months. Jisung lets you beg for a while, but then he capitulates in front of another coffee.

You live alone in a loft on the fifth floor of a suburban building. The apartment is a hellish mess and it almost looks as if a tornado has swept through the living room, bathroom and kitchen, mixing the different furnishings together. You invite Jisung to sit wherever he wants, assuming he can find a seat.

You silently eat two bowls of instant ramen and then dangle awkwardly in front of each other, thinking about what to say. After a few minutes Jisung breaks the silence and asks you to see your portraits. You dig through the easels piled against the wall before handing him a few palettes.

The portraits are not refined. In fact, that's the reason you are going to art school. You cannot seem to maintain proper proportions between the various body parts you draw. In the first painting you show Jisung, the woman's hands on the canvas are too big and stubby, in the second the eyes are exaggeratedly spaced apart, and in the third the legs are so crooked that they almost seem to belong to two different people. In spite of everything, Jisung fails to give those mistakes the connotation of flaws, because there is something that compels him to stay looking at them without speaking.

While Jisung stares absently at the portraits, you flip through the half-told stories you found in his briefcase and reads fragments of disconnected sentences with a lazy smile on your lips. Jisung reflects for the time of three cigarettes before looking at you and stating that he is ready to be drawn.

When you get up to gather your brushes and paints, out of the corner of your eyes you see the boy becoming pale and widening his eyes. A split second later, the canvas slips from Jisung's hands, crashing to the floor with a reverberating noise.

You don't have time to process what happened because Jisung runs quickly toward the exit, almost crashing against the walls. He runs down the stairs as fast as he can, tripping over his feet, hitting the steps with each step and leaving you, alone in your apartment, one hand extended toward the door, clutching the rarefied air.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You remind me of someone I've seen before".

The second time you and Jisung met, he has the time to hide behind an alley, because it's easier not to be asked questions if you have something to hide. In this case, you happen to turn on that very alley and you find yourself in front of Jisung, curled in a quivering ball of shame. After assuring him more than once that you don't care if he broke the canvas and ruined the portrait, you convince him to have another cup of coffee together because you will never find a face like his for your painting.

You drink unsweetened black espresso, steaming hot to the limits of what is possible to drink. Jisung looks at you with an horrified look as he opens the third sugar packet and melts the grains inside his vanilla drink.

"Who?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure. Your hands".

Jisung glows and hides his flushed face behind his coffee.

"What's wrong with my hands?"

"They are vaguely erotic".

You lazily runs your fingers over Jisung's manicured nails.

"Thank you?"

"I'd like to paint those too. If you want to. You must promise not to run away and leave me alone like an idiot though".

Jisung stares out the coffee shop window and counts the drops that go condensed in the corners of the glass, Your voice is just a shade in the picture in front of him.

"Mh".

"Can I read something you wrote?"

"Didn't you already do that at your house a few weeks ago?"

"Jisung, come on, I want to read something serious".

"I'll pretend I didn't hear".

You smile andd curl your lips around your glass.

"You don't tell me that's all you wrote?"

"No. Of course not".

"Thank God. Those stories were really cheap".

You barely have time to shield your face behind your arms before Jisung's indigned look - along with his fists - dumps a shower of insults on you. It takes him a few minutes before he realizes that, hey I was just kidding, and he stops swearing.

You stand outside of the coffee shop shortly afterward, huddling under a horrible slime colored umbrella. You shove a mint cigarette between your lips and ask Jisung if he wants to try.

Jisung spends the next half hour coughing and cursing in all the languages of the world.

"You're not really suited to be a writer".

Jisung kicks you lightly and chuckles half offended as he watches you prance around on one foot yowling like a wounded puppy. Then you pull him by the hood of his jacket and smother your last words over his mouth. His comment on the kiss is anything but an insult. Jisung bites his lips and thinks that maybe you are right.

He doesn't tell you, though.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"What happened the first time at my house?"

"What are you talking about? "

"The painting".

"I thought we had already talked about that".

"Indeed. I'm not interested in the painting itself".

"It slipped from my hands".

Jisung looks down and you don't believe him for a second. You finish brushing the bluish sky and wipe your hands on the apron. You watch the canvas, but it's useless. You weren't able to paint decently for months.

"It doesn't matter. I couldn't paint anything anyway".

Jisung barely nods and closes his eyes. He squeezes his thighs together and rocks in his chair, absorbing the faint winter rays of light on his skin.

"Do blind people dream?"

You watch Jisung tensing his back like a cat and stretching slowly, making his spine creak.

"It depends. If they are blind from birth maybe they only dream of sounds".

Jisung opens his eye and observes you, illuminated by the light. He looks almost like a beam of the whitest sun, his hair is tousled and his lips chapped by the wind.

"What do you think is worse, being born without sight or losing it over time?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I don't know".

You twist your mouth because Jisung tells that he doesn't know to a lot of things and you can never figure out if it's because he doesn't want to answer or because he really doesn't know. You pretend to be mad at it, but the facade doesn't even last two seconds. Jisung is like that anyway. You love his everything or you don't love anything at all.

"I think it's worse to never have the chance to see colors, or the sun".

He gets up from the stool and sits in your lap, staring at an indefinite spot on your face. You stand still for several minutes without speaking, then Jisung rubs his forehead against your cheek.

"If I couldn't see, what would you do?"

"I'd be painting with words".

Jisung kisses you and you end up flying outside the universe, navigating purple galaxies in the space constellation, running through the Milky Way and on a bridge leading to the end of the world.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"I don't feel like playing anymore".

Jisung, sitting on the wooden chair, looks at the window in an absorbed manner. He crosses his ankles and wrinkles his nose as if to chase away an annoying thought.

"I am bored. I've been sitting in this position for almost two hours".

You let out a soft grunt as you pick up a multitude of dried up tubes of paint from a ceramic jar.

"You are just being bratty", you comment, resting the brush on the coffee table and rubbing your hands against each other to scrape off the remnants of color on your nails.

"What do you feel like doing?" you ask as you look up at him.

Jisung smiles and gets up from his small chair by sliding down part of the sheet that covered his hips.

"You are dirty", he says, beginning to absentmindedly touch his lower lip with his fingers.

"I will take a shower after this".

Jisung shakes his head slowly. He moistens his index and middle fingers with his pink tongue, sticking out of his mouth.

"I don't think so".

Another handful of small steps and he is in front of you, already crushed against the bones of you pelvis. With his hands he brings your neck close to his face and licks the skin exposed by your shirt, from your ear down to the collarbones. There he stops and sucks just enough to leave you with a red bruise.

"I'll clean you up", he moans, biting the patch of skin at the nape of your neck, near your hairline.

You scramble to the kitchen chair, pushed by Jisung's hands that are slipping off your shirt, and it's pointless to tell him that I can't be dirty there because he is wetting a path of bare skin down to your belly button. He sticks his tongue out and he swirls it slowly inside of it, then continues on the dimples above your hip bone.

You feel your leg muscles contracting and you clasp your hands around Jisung's shoulders, pushing him down and allowing him to curl up on the floor, a hungry expression on his face.

Jisung spreads his legs and you let your head loll against the wall behind you as he bites your skin and removes your pants. You feel a tender, raspy tongue lazily sucking on the inside of your thighs and nibbling at them slowly. His fingers cup your already sopping cunt and start moving, circling your entrance and smearing the slick on the skin around it.

Jisung's mouth is searing and his black eyes bottomless. His saliva seethes on your flesh as you tense your legs with tiny spasms each time you feel him biting closer and closer to your aching pussy. Maybe he is sucking away something else, buried deeper somewhere inside you as well, but you have no strength to think about it when Jisung finally makes up his mind and sucks your clit in between his lips.

You hold your breath and all of your blood drains from your brain to focus lower, warming where the other's mouth failed. The wet sound is obscenely filthy as his lips slide up and down along your drenching pussy, lapping at the thin, swollen skin of your lips.

Jisung alternates between spitting dribbles of saliva on your cunt and sliding his fingers inside of you, massaging your aching walls for a long time. When he harshly sucks your clit inside his mouth, he lets out a satisfied meow and closes his eyes, completely enraptured by his own ego, fulfilled while listening to your moans. His fingers grab the tender flesh of your butt and he sinks his nose into your cunt, sucking as vigorously as possible on your puffy clit.

When he feels the walls of your pussy contract around his fingers, he starts to thrust them slowly and takes his time to give kitten licks at your hardened nub, sucking only the tip of it with undulating motions.

You squint your eyes, press your hands on the back of Jisung's neck and you finally cum with a dull gasp. Jisung presses his thumb against his own lips, smearing your release on them. He stares at you with vicious eyes and swallows slowly, wiping his crimson lips with his fingertips.

"You are clean now".

You kiss him, biting hard on his lips and licking his chin and cheeks to remove all of the traces of your slick from his face. When you inhale the smell of his skin, you thank whoever is above or below for allowing you to possess him.

"You are my masterpiece".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The spring of Jisung's twentieth year has the dull, bland taste of rain. It rains all the time, every day. Flowers fail to sprout and the few that succeed, eventually rot.

Jisung began to smoke, even though he gave up on his writing career. It wasn't really suitable, all things considered. He smokes your mint cigarettes and lets the fresh flavor fill his mouth before blowing away the residue. When he looks out from behind the window glass at the water drops tapping on the puddles, he sighs sadly.

You are splayed on the sofa with your legs curled on the floor. You snort, and your voice is hoarse as if you had just woken up.

"Would you like some tea?".

"Uh".

Jisung throws the cigarette in a jar filled with soil. He clicks his tongue against his palate and heads to the kitchen to boil tap water in the pot. He looks for the fruit tea filters behind the pantry doors when he stops all of a sudden, feeling the flesh under his skin instantly freezing. He tries to focus on something, anything. He stares at the wall, he opens his lips and, instead of a cry, what comes out is a whisper.

"Baby".

Jisung trembles and stretches a hand out in front of him. His eyes water and overflow like rain. He squeezes the air with his fingers and his veins swell on his wrists, pulsing his blood down.

"Baby", he slurs again.

You lift your head from the back of the sofa and look at your boyfriend's shoulders hunched forward.

"What's the matter?"

Jisung crinkles his eyes even more and doesn't hold back a tear that lines his cheeks and wrinkles his round chin. He squints, and thousands shades of colors disappear. His muscles relax involuntarily, and he hears the sound of shattering shards as if his brain had detached from his own skullcap to navigate inside of the the cerebral fluid.

"Baby, where am I?"

You sprint to your feet at lightning speed and you hold up Jisung before he can crash to the floor. His head, as an unconditional reflex, lunges forward and slams back against your forehead.

"Where are you?"

Jisung thrashes against your chest and continues to shake with convulsive spasms. He grits his teeth and tries to slip out of your tight embrace.

I love you say I love you and you see me I see you tell me.

"I am here. I am behind you. I won't leave you", you try to soothe him.

He turns around in deluded strength and fumbles with his fingers in search of you face. He taps lips, eyes, hair, cheekbones, squeezes knuckles and bites his own tongue.

"I don't see you".

Jisung's voice trembles. He opens his mouth two or three times, but his words dry up like a desert. A breath of wind, and he speaks feebly.

"I see nothing".

no no no no no no no

"The painting too. I couldn't see it anymore. It didn't slipped from my hands".

Jisung is gushing like a raging river and in a split second he becomes aware of herself, of you, of everything floating in his mind.

"It wasn't there".

say I'm there and you see me because I'm here and I won't leave you say that-.

"It was just a black hole".

please

"I lied to you".

I don't want to

"I never told you how my mother died".

"Jisung".

"No. You have to listen to me".

You feel your throat burning as if someone was smoking inside your stomach. You can feel the aftertaste of ash in the mouth of your esophagus and you try to swallow. But nothing goes down.

"Do you know what glaucoma is?"

"I don't think I want to know".

"It's a disease that affects eyesight. Your eyes accumulate water until the internal pressure is too much. You can't feel pain. That's why it is diagnosed too late. It's like your eyes are drowning in tears".

You die a little with each word, as if Jisung is spewing ink, and you are an inkwell collecting phantom waste.

"She couldn't stand the idea of not being able to see anymore".

"You could not have-"

"I have it".

You feel like falling. You stumble and fall. You fall for an endless time, and you fall into a dark well. You don't touch the bottom and keep falling into the cold. You try to scream but that requires oxygen, and your lungs contract, spitting out carbon dioxide because there is no more oxygen in you. So you cling to the walls, crawl your fingers and flay you skin. A cry rumbles out, but the voice is not yours.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The first time you make love, Jisung feels broken. Not in the external sense of the act itself. He feels broken in a deeper place, where you cannot touch and where he didn't even know he could feel something. This is the reason why, in the middle of the intercourse, he starts crying and wets the sheets with salty tears. He cries so quietly that you don't even realize it.

"Paint me".

"What?"

Jisung rolls up between the covers and straddles you.

"I wish you would paint all the colors of the world on me".

He moans and rubs his nose against the protruding bones of your neck. Tears dry on the skin of his cheeks. When you taste the salt on your tongue, you softly bite his chin.

"Paint is bad for your skin, you know that?".

Jisung bursts out laughing, and you laugh too in response.

"I know, but I would like a sun on my stomach. Or on my back".

You clasp Jisung's hips in your hands, anchoring him to your waist.

"You are bright already".

"And a meadow, too, all over my arms. And light, everywhere. Beams of light all over my face. I want to shine in the night".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You'll be there right? After".

"Where?"

"On the other side".

You slide the brush over Jisung's shoulders, lying on the floor with goose bumps caused from the cold tiles.

"Don't move".

There are empty liquor bottles scattered on the floor, with a bittersweet smell lingering in the room and permeating the walls. No light. Many unlit cigarette everywhere, a few blood stains - or perhaps paint - on Jisung's feet. You keep painting without seeing where you are passing the brush.

"I will follow you everywhere, if I can".

"You know that it won't be possible for you".

"I know".

You kiss the colors on his skin and Jisung tastes like sweat and burnt wood.

"But maybe it's better this way".

Jisung reaches out his arm and tentatively finds the neck of a bottle, brings it to his lips and drinks the clear liquid, letting a few drops slide down his chin to his nodular neck. Jisung picks up the alcohol with his fingertips and brings it to his eyes, pressing a little. It stings at first, but then he begins to see stars in front of him, so close he thinks he can gather them in the palm of his hand.

"Do you want me to open the window?" you ask.

Jisung shakes his head and pushes you against him, causing the brushes to fall from your hands. He clings to your back and pet your hair, smelling it and tasting it with his tongue.

"Did you take your medicine?"

Jisung shakes his head and searches for cigarettes inside his pants. He manages to find one and places it between your lips.

"It won't be so bad".

You inhale the smoke and blow it out somewhere in the darkness of the room. You rest your lips on Jisung's without kissing him, the dry taste of tobacco invades his throat and he smiles with the corners of his mouth.

"I have to take you to the sea, near the cliffs. I can paint the waves on your cheeks. We can even jump from very high if you want. Or you can sleep on the sand and taste the water".

Jisung pulls the smoking stick from your fingers and takes a wide puff of smoke, holding it inside himself as much as possible, then pulls you against him and opens his mouth, breathing into you.

"It will be fine, Jisung".

Jisung laughs and feels his throat tighten in a thorny grip. He gasps and pushes the lit cigarette on the back of his hand. He grits his teeth.

"How come I'm not sure?"

You take his lips in between your fingers and squeeze them until they open wide, then you move closer and whisper everything to him. You whisper the world and the universe.

you are light you are white and red you are scarlet you are perfect you are alive alive alive you are not the rain because it keeps raining and I will always wait for you on the other side always because you are alive and you are here it will be okay

And it should be okay, it should be right. Jisung would have kissed you and said it's true, it's always okay when you're here. But no, he pushes you on the chest and shrugs, his eyes blazing and his lips frozen.

"Listen to me. Outside, somewhere in this infinite universe, there is a parallel world. I know for a fact that it exists, just as I know that in that world everything is right, as it should be here. There is a Jisung running across the grass on a sunny day, and you are chasing after him and falling down in an attempt to catch him. There's the two of us laughing and drinking until dawn, throwing ourselves on the ground and hugging each other so we don't get cold. We have flowers on the balcony and dew in our hair. It never rains. The sun always shines. This world really exists, and it's beautiful. But what you have to understand - what I want you to understand - is that this world, this one, it's not that. This is the reality that hurts, the one where you have to pay a price for your life. We can't run across a meadow here, because you picked me and adopted me out of pity. You even managed to fall in love with me, and that's the wrongest thing you could have done. Because you could really be bright, you could really shine, have flowers on the balcony and dew in your hair. But you chose me. And this is not the world in which everything is right. This is the world in which I am fading, the world in which I am losing the color that you are so desperately trying to put on me. But look what happen, look".

Jisung gets up and you can feel his small body clawing in the dark inside the room to open the balcony door and go outside. The apartment is suddenly pervaded with a gray light, reflecting the color of the sky. You look at Jisung, naked, stiff and trembling under the raindrops falling from above.

Jisung pulls his lips up in a distorted smile.

"See?"

Water runs down his back and the paint drips on the soles of his feet, sliding down to his short, pink nails.

"The color melts under the rain. It only lasts a few seconds before I come back to be as transparent as your canvas. And this is not the world where the sun shines. These are blackholes. Life, light, nature, they are all projections in my head. But you. You can still make it. You don't have to follow me. Don't follow my selfishness".

"Jisung, I have to".

Jisung trembles and the water rushes over him. The reality mocks him and everything he can love.

"No, you want to".

don't come with me you are my love

"Don't follow me to the other side. You will fade too".

You clench your fists and watch the drops wetting the ephebic figure in front of you. Jisung comes to you and blows desolate words into your face.

"When I ask you to paint me, don't. When I ask you to pity me, don't. When I beg you to come with me, please, don't".

"No. I must follow you. Everywhere. As long as there are black holes, I will be behind you. As long as this world sucks. As long as I breathe".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

One night you close your eyes and, instead of the sea, you see boundless steppes and barren grasslands. After what seems like miles and miles of dry lands, inside a small depression - almost a pit - you see Jisung, curled onto himself, all naked and with his limbs tangled together, hidden from the world. You don't ask yourself why you can see such a small body at such a distance, but your muscles set into autonomous motion and you find yourself running in that direction.

After endless minutes, you reach what seems to be the final destination, but the pit gradually moves away from you. However, for some reason, you can still see Jisung swinging himself with his face pressed into the dry earth.

You speed up your run and you begin to feel your throat tightening as the first drops of sweat make their way onto your forehead. Shadows cast themselves in the barren ground, but they are distorted by the shadow of your own body and of the dim, suffocating light of the sun. The image of Jisung blurs for a few seconds, and when it becomes clear again, those same shadows are catapulted onto him as well. You lift your head and you see dozens, hundreds, thousands of hawks flying in circles over Jisung's ditch, which tightens and lengthens as it becomes deeper.

The last steps of your run are slow, while the first hawk descends in slow motion on Jisung's soft face and begins to do something to his cheeks. You see Jisung's cheekbones become parched, almost to the point you fear that a gust of wind will blow them away. The second hawk glides beside the other, and you cannot get the soles of your feet off the dusty ground as it begins, slowly, as if it was foretasting a feast, to peck at Jisung's moist eyes.

Soft tears continue to gush, tiny raindrops that can nothing against the infecundity of the place where they stand. The thousands of hawks fly inside the pit and peck at the remnants of that dead body, tearing it apart with their hooked beaks. They chew the skin and swallow Jisung's life, paralyzed in his grave.

After what seems like centuries, they soar together in their cruel dance of farewell. Your feet finally unclench, but it's no longer necessary, because Jisung now stands in front of you, perfect. The tender, rosy flesh barely flushed on his cheeks and the slender, trembling body almost hairless, beautiful.

without

eyes.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Jisung is tired. June is an agony of dampness spent under the sheets, and you spend countless nights hoping that Jisung's sobs will cease and he will finally sleep. July is no better. The heat is starting to get unbearable and Jisung wants to keep the windows closed, hooked shut, so that not a single draft of clean air can penetrate into the apartments. Along with that, he stops drinking.

You keep opening the windows, even if Jisung screams and cries like a baby, and you force his lips open with the help of your fingers, making him swallow some liquids. August is definitely a torture when he stops taking his painkillers and his stomach turns over, forcing him to vomit all day and all night.

There is no turning back now.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"Tell me".

There is so much smoke inside the room that even if it wasn't that dark, it would be impossible to see more than an inch away from your face. You are lying half on the floor, half on Jisung's sticky thighs, smoking a cigarette that seems to be his only remaining foothold in his earthly existence.

"What?"

Jisung's voice is hoarse and distressing. It has changed exponentially in the past two weeks, since he refused to let you go outside to buy something to eat. You fighted against it, and he bit your hand viciously before starting to cry in shame.

"When you want to leave, tell me".

"You can't come with me. We've already discussed it".

"No, you have already discussed it. By yourself. You don't listen to what I say".

Jisung opens his lips and raises a graceful hand as if he was trying to slap you in the face. Eventually, the hand sags and the slap becomes a trembling caress.

"Jisung, please", you become pleading, tired and desperate. With your bandaged fingers you caress Jisung's thin knuckles, one by one.

"Just tell me. I won't follow you, I promise".

Jisung laughs. His head rests against the wall.

"You will follow me".

"Please".

Your lips meet in the compact darkness and they rub, dry, against each other in the memory of an old, worn-out passion.

"I love you, and you are a liar".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

When you manage to drag Jisung out of the house in September, you almost gave up. You don't know if it is because of the faint light or the clouds, but Jisung's once tan skin is now grayish, and it makes his figure looks unhealthy and contagious at the mere sight. You also brought out brushes, hundreds of them, and half-squeezed tubes of color.

"Why did you bring me here?"

The grass under Jisung's shoes rustles in response. You are in a park just outside the city, a destination for a few couples and students with nothing to do.

"You asked me to paint you".

"That was a long time ago".

You pick up the brushes from your bag and pull a forced smile between you lips.

"And you, quite a long time ago, told me you wanted to shine. Here, then".

The tube of yellow paint curls against the wooden palette and the brush bristles wet in contact.

"Lay down".

Jisung tries to deny it, but then he seems to see in you the edge of a precipice, and maybe he feels a rush of pity and compassion for both of you. He wonders how it is possible to have reached that point without someone having the heart to save you both. Or save at least you.

With an awkward movement he leans over the lawn and lies on his back, shivering from the drops of water trapped between the blades of grass. You kneel beside him and barely lift the edges of his shirt, uncovering his belly and round hips. Jisung closes his eyes and trembles when he feels your open mouth kissing the flesh near his navel. You begin to trace marks near that spot, dipping your brush occasionally into the color. When you finish that first step, you keep painting all around radially, as if the first object was the focal point of the entire image. With your fingers you caress his petite chest, the spots uncovered by the color, the skinny hips, and as much of Jisung as you can.

Once you are done, you lean forward. Jisung reaches out and gently touches your hair, entwining it between his index fingers and anchoring you to him. Jisung's entire chest is a cerulean expanse of sky. There is sky everywhere, interspersed with green tree foliage intertwining on the sides. Down, just above his pelvis, a clear sea joins the sky in a blue line of horizon. And in that small, hidden spot of the kiss, you painted a sun.

"Do you like it?"

Jisung opens his eyes and instead of your face he sees a black universe. He feels two tears sting and run down his cheeks, his chin and to his chest, wetting his lips folded into a smile.

"It's perfect".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It's December when you think you feel Jisung moving on the bed and kicking off the covers. You also think you can feel his lips kissing you softly and his arms wrapping around your neck before sinking into the oblivion of sleep with his words in your mind.

remember you promised

But when you wake up, Jisung is not really there. The mattress is empty next to you and the sheets are tangled at the bottom of the bed. You snap to your feet, ignoring the dizziness and the fact that the room seems to be moving in circles around you.

"Jisung?"

You call him in a choked, shrill voice, a knot forming in your throat. You hear a ringing noise in you ears and you begin to search everywhere inside the apartment. You want to hope, you really do, that he just went out, but you cannot force yourself to believe in it because Jisung, by now, hasn't been out alone for months.

"Jisung?".

You look again, inside the shower stall, in the small balcony, under the couch, in the closet where you keep you painting canvas, inside the closet in the bedroom. But it's just when you are about to leave the house that you see it. On the living room table, between the keys and the fruit basket. A farewell letter.

You don't even understand how you actually got to pick it up, unfold it, and start reading it, that you tear it in two in your hands, teeth gritted and tears beginning to overflow from your eyes.

"Jisung".

You run outside without even closing the front door, engulfing the steps in trembling, messy strides. You reach the street and the only thing that you can think about is that I promised you, but you should have told me when you were about to go, you should have told me. You run on the road, crossing the roadway, risking getting run over, running on the sidewalks, running over people, running for hours. Until you see him.

For a moment you don't even notice him, caught up in the heat of your research. Yet it's him, standing in front of you. Perfect and naked, with a red dot on his forehead, like in your painting. Beautiful and full of life. As he has never been. As in an iconographic image branded in your head. And it's so perfect, and beautiful and full of life that you give in.

and yet you promised not to follow me

You close your eyes and take one step in his direction. Jisung smiles and spreads his arms wide, and so do you. An inch apart, and Jisung kisses you.

I love you.

You push back your tears.

"I am ready".

and you follow him.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You are 23 years old when you die. You are found in your apartment, lying on the floor, completely naked and smeared with paint. That's suicide, it is obvious, but nobody take a guess on why you decided to end your life.

When they take your body away, a dirty brush of yellow paint slips from your hand and ends up stepped on by the coroner.

Nobody finds dozens and dozens of canvases depicting the same boy. Nobody finds intact packages of painkillers. Nobody finds mint cigarettes and bottles of gin. Nobody finds a shredded letter saying "I am going". Nobody.

"You said you wouldn't follow me".

"You knew I would".

"I love you, and you're a liar".

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Outside, somewhere in the infinite universe, there is a parallel world. There's a Jisung running on the grass on a sunny day, and you are running after him and falling down trying to catch him. There's the two of us laughing and drinking until dawn, throwing ourselves on the ground and hugging each other so we don't get cold. We have flowers on the balcony and dew in our hair. It never rains. The sun always shines. You could really shine, have flowers on the balcony and dew in your hair. But you chose me.

You chose me.

©️ jilixthinker, 2023. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

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sserpente · 10 months

Text

A/N: Request from anon and some of my own ideas that had to be written down because Loki demanded it. This is technically Part II to this Imagine!

Words: 2492 Warnings: implied smut, biting

Your hair was still wet when you got out of the water, your back numb from the gushing waterfall Loki had kept you pressed against while fucking the life out of you and you were sprawled out on the blanket. Loki conjured a soft towel for you both to dry off and afterward, you ended up leaning against his chest as he fed you some of the grapes and read you passages of the book he had brought. It didn’t matter you couldn’t understand Old Norse—his voice was mesmerising either way and certainly the best form of aftercare you’d ever had.

Hours must have gone by. Hours filled with even more sex, passion, and some of the most profound conversations you had had in a while.

But once the sun began to set and the lagoon got darker and darker, Loki stirred and you, much to your dismay, decided to return to the palace through the stables to go unnoticed.

“Thor will decapitate me.”

“As if you care what Thor thinks,” you said, chuckling.

Loki smirked. “I don’t. But I do quite fancy my head, pet.”

Pet. There it was again. Before your mind could swoon over his new nickname for you, you were interrupted by a cute and boyish voice the very moment you entered the stables.

“Prince Loki! Shall I prepare your horse for you?”

The stable boy emerged from behind a wooden wall carrying a pitchfork. He was sweaty from the manual labour and his clothes were filthy from working with the horses. He was cute though. You could tell he had a heart for animals straight away.

“No need, Edri. I’m just passing through. Avoiding attention, you understand.”

“Of c—oh. You brought company. Oh…” He paused, blushing. “You brought beautiful company.”

You smiled at him but not without noticing how Loki tensed up right next to you. His arm came up to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to make a statement. Edri immediately cleared his throat and forcefully ripped his gaze away from you.

“Well then… I haven’t seen either of you, my prince.”

“Thank you.”

“Loki? Can I see your horse?”

“I’ve just fed her. She’s right over there?” Edri offered before he could answer.

Loki gave you a smirk and a defeated sigh. “Very well.”

The experience did not disappoint. After Edri led you into one of the boxes, you were greeted by one of the most beautiful black mares you had ever laid your eyes upon. She seemed friendly—and she immediately let you touch her and even neighed in delight when Edri slid you an apple to feed to her.

“What’s her name?”

“Skelmir—it’s Old Norse for Trickster,” Loki answered.

You chuckled. “So she’s as mischievous as you then?”

“Occasionally.” He winked.

“She likes you. Skelmir is one of the shyer horses around here,” Edri explained. “Animals can tell if one has a good heart.” His gaze was soft and gentle—and it lingered long enough to make Loki seethe, it seemed.

“We should head inside now. Shall we? Edri.” His voice was stern and you chuckled once more, realising with a start that Loki was jealous the stable boy was flirting with you. There was no real danger here, of course—he was cute but it was Loki who had stolen your heart. But you were flattered. The fact that he was jealous meant he cared, right?

You nodded, tearing your mesmerised glance off of Skelmir, and followed Loki back into the palace. Not even a moment later, an aggressive voice echoed through the palace walls.

“Loki!”

Loki sighed. “What?”

You both turned, facing a fuming Thor.

“Where were you two? The entire palace was looking for you!” The God of Thunder spoke your name reproachfully. “You were supposed to remain supervised, Father said—“

“I was supervised,” you offered.

“By Loki! There is a reason we have asked you to stay away from him.”

“Oh, please.” What’s the worst thing I could do? Sleep with him? You grinned at your thought.

“Where did you even go? Why is your hair wet?”

Neither of you answered and Thor sighed. “Well, what’s done is done, I just hope Loki didn’t twist your head with his nonsense too much.” Your grin grew even wider—and Loki joined in. Part of you wanted to tell Thor, just to see his reaction but perhaps for now, it was for the best not to tell him that you had quite literally fucked the God of Mischief.

“We’re having a midsummer celebration in the throne room tonight. Everybody is welcome.”

You turned to Loki. “What’s that gonna be like?”

“Drinking, dancing, eating, and karaoke. Surprisingly, it’s not too different from celebrations on Midgard.”

“Karaoke? On Asgard? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Well, I’d dare assume the songs we sing are nothing like what you are used to from Midgard but essentially, the concept is the same.”

“I won’t miss that then. But only if you get up there and sing too,” you teased, grinning at him. Thor tilted his head in confusion, clearly not used to somebody being all flirty with his adopted brother.

“I’ll have a maid sent to the guest chambers to dress you for the occasion,” Loki said. And with that, and perhaps to not raise even more suspicion in Thor, he walked off with a final wink.

You didn’t realise how hungry you were until the maid came knocking on your door about an hour later, a selection of dresses in her hands—the decision was quickly made to wear the green one she had brought. It took her half an hour to get your still a little damp hair situated before finally, she escorted you to the throne room that had transformed into what could only be described as a food hall.

Your eyes scanned the room and you smiled awkwardly when Volstagg waved at you.

“Looking for someone in particular?” Loki offered, appearing behind you. Your heart skipped a beat and you spun around, joining him at the table he led you to. The other people chatting away and drinking there you did not recognise but that wasn’t important. Not even the fact that Volstagg and the others looked downright shocked upon you choosing to sit with Loki rather than with them mattered.

“You look beautiful, pet. One could mistake you for an Asgardian.”

“Thank you. I’ll blend in then. Is that the stage for the karaoke?” You pointed at an elevated platform next to the throne.

“It is indeed,” Loki said while a maid came by to pour you drinks.

“I don’t see a microphone.”

“You don’t need one. The stage is enhanced with magic. Once you step on it, your voice will be heard across the entire throne room.”

You clinked your glasses and then, the celebrations began.

You got tipsy fast, the Asgardian mead messing with your mind only one drink in. Loki needed a few more to let go. You learned from one of the men sitting at the table with you that Loki used to be the most hedonistic party guest one could possibly invite to a celebration.

You did not doubt it—because after a few more drinks, Loki stumbled on stage and sang an Old Norse song. He even changed to lyrics of the chorus to English so you could sing, clap and dance along and just for once, it seemed, all was well.

No one was judging him for attempting to take over Earth but rather for how much mead he’d already downed. You’d possibly never had this much fun in your life. And even though you’d refrained from singing a song yourself, you soon found yourself in Loki’s arms, dancing like there was no tomorrow.

The sexual tension between you grew with every beat until eventually, the God of Mischief leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Let me take you to my chambers, pet.”

You nodded with wide eyes, unable to ignore the wanton pulsing between your legs. Next thing you knew, you were on Loki’s bed on his armchair in his chambers, kissing him senseless.

“Loki…” you mumbled against his lips. “I wanna…” Another kiss, leaving you breathless.

“Wanna suck you off…” you choked out. Loki pulled away for a moment, surprise evident on his gorgeous face. He tilted his head with parted lips.

“You truly are the most peculiar mortal I have ever met.”

You grinned. “Would you say I’m also the most endearing one?”

Fuck, you felt like a teenager again. Loki and you spent half the night making out, exploring each other’s bodies, and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of one another. By morning, he was familiar with every square inch of your skin and the soreness between your legs… it spoke for itself when you opened your eyes in his chambers when the sun was up again, naked, satisfied, and happy. Heavens, you’d spent the night making love to a god, after all! Life couldn’t get any better than that… right?

You rolled over, briefly distracted by a stinging pain in your neck. Ouch. Loki had gotten quite rough at some point last night, attacking your sensitive skin with his teeth and sucking and nibbling wherever his mouth had landed on.

“Good morning, pet…” Loki purred.

You smiled sleepily. “Good morning.” You sighed. “I want to spend the entire day in bed,” you stated. But then, your stomach growled.

Loki chuckled. “I’d dare say your body disagrees and needs sustenance after all the… activities last night.”

Reluctantly, you got out of bed. He was not wrong. You were starving. You walked over to the mirror naked, examining the hickeys he gave you last night. The one on your neck wasn’t a hickey though. It was an actual bite mark.

“Shit, Loki, I had no idea you’d be so kinky in bed.” You chuckled, practically admiring it. Loki came up behind you, his hands stroking over your upper arms as his blue gaze crossed yours in the reflection.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not more than hickey, surprisingly. I suppose you don’t have make-up here to cover this up though? That’d be easier than explaining to the rest of Asgard why the Earth girl suddenly has a bite mark on her neck.”

Loki waved his hand and the bruise disappeared. “Wait, did you…”

“It’s still there. I’ve concealed it. We can head to the healing room once you’re dressed.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Loki!”

The banging on the door that followed had the God of Mischief sigh.

“Loki, I know you’re in there! There’s someone here to see you. You have a lot of explaining to do, brother!”

Loki frowned.

“Who?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I don’t normally get visitors from other realms. At least none that announce themselves officially and march straight through the palace doors. Get dressed, pet. I shall take you to the healing room right after.”

You nodded, putting on the clothes he conjured for you, and gave your hair a quick brush before you followed him outside, making sure that nobody saw you leaving his chambers. You made your way through sun-kissed hallways. It was a beautiful morning and you could already smell the Asgardian delicacies waiting to fill your tummy.

Still, you were curious about who Loki’s mysterious and unannounced visitor was. So you joined him, pushing the thought of breakfast to the back of your mind for now. In sight came a blonde woman with a suit of armour very similar to Loki’s, a guard right next to her to ensure she didn’t pose a threat.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

Loki swallowed thickly, his lips parted. His voice was a mix of relief and surprise. “That… Sylvie.”

“Your Asgard doesn’t look too different from mine, actually,” she said by way of a greeting.

“What are you doing here?”

“What, are you not happy to see me?” she mocked. Loki pulled her into an embrace. You felt a twang of jealousy inside of you.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay. Come in. And tell me what you’ve been up to. Have you heard from Mobius?”

“Not yet. Communication is a bit brittle across time and space. I have a lead on Renslayer though. You won’t like to hear it but she was last seen with Kang.”

“Great. So that’s another problem on our growing list.”

“Who’s that?” Sylvie nodded toward you and all of a sudden, you felt self-conscious about yourself. You lifted your chin in a feeble attempt to feign confidence.

You told her your name before Loki could answer, followed by a quick explanation as to why you were here. “And who exactly are you?” you asked then.

“She’s… me,” Loki answered for her. “Well, not exactly me but one of my Variants—from another corner of the multiverse, if you will.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Sometimes I wish I was, pet.”

“Pet? What’s going on?” Sylvie scanned your form—then, her eyes fell on your neck. “Is that… You idiot! You marked her?”

You frowned. How could she even see it? But you supposed that if she was a Loki, then she was able to see right through his concealment. “What? What does that mean?”

“She’s human, Loki! It’s a miracle she’s even alive!”

Loki glared at her, daring her to keep speaking all the while your confusion kept growing. Marked you? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Can we speak about this in private? Preferably where not the entire palace can hear us?”

“Loki, what does she mean?”

“The bite mark of a Frost Giant,” Sylvie explained coldly, “it’s like a magical seal that signifies a partnership between two Frost Giants.”

“So… what… does that mean I have magic in my veins right now?”

Sylvie ignored you. “What were you thinking, Loki?”

“I was drunk!”

“Of course you were.”

“Oh, don’t think for a second I wouldn’t have done this had I not been. She’s fine.”

Just this morning, you had asked yourself what exactly Loki and you were. Calling him your boyfriend seemed inappropriate but quite apparently, you now had an answer to your question. Partner.

Loki did not seem like the type of person who would sleep with just anyone. Having fun and giving pleasure was one thing but even then… the God of Mischief surely was selective with his lovers. You bit your lower lip. You hadn’t known about the meaning of this bite mark but you couldn’t say you minded it. If that was his way of making you his, you’d receive it with open arms. You could only imagine the exciting kind of future you’d have with Loki—even if it would take a while to convince whoever this Sylvie was that just because you were human, that didn’t mean you’d let anyone mess with you or keep you away from the cheeky God of Mischief.

A/N: Come check out my blog if you like for more Imagines and my novels! ♥

#loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki #thor #thor imagine #the avengers #the avengers imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #loki show #loki series #loki series imagine #loki show imagine #tom hiddleston

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yeyinde · 1 year

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My mostly wholesome Price thought of the day is just wanting to give him a massage. And I don’t mean a quick shoulder rub; no, I mean a proper full-body massage with oils and candles, and all because he deserves to be pampered. Price (and honestly all of the boys) is so stressed all the time, it comes with the job, and because he’s in charge and bears so many different burdens, I am certain he carries some of that tension in his body, especially his back and shoulders. He’d never ask for one, but I’m sure he would appreciate it so much. Knowing that you care enough to want to relieve some of his stress would warm his heart and just make him love you that much more. Plus, you’d get to touch him however you want, and he’d undoubtedly thank you afterward by making you feel good, so it’s truly a win-win situation. In conclusion, I love him, and I am projecting because I, too, am stressed about finals and would benefit greatly from a massage lol -🧚🏽‍♀️

You always seem to know exactly what is going on in my head, and I'm genuinely in awe over everything you write.

Price, to me, is someone who never takes. He gives, always. He'll be as rough as you want. As sharp as you need. He puts everyone, and everything, before himself. He's a natural born leader. Utilitarian to his core. He's the first one who takes the shot, who gets blood on his hands, to spare everyone else from the hardships of it. He carries the weight of every single action on his shoulders and eases it with vices in the form of cigars and scotch, and screams himself raw on the battlefield. He refuses to be coddled or cared for because it's not Important. He's not important compared to everything else.

He's secondary even in his own life.

So, imagine just—pretty little woman'ing him in the tub.

He comes home, reeking of stale tobacco and aching from his duties. Joints aching from carrying the world in his hands. He just wants to sink into bed with you by his side.

But you don't let him. You drag him to the washroom where it smells of lavender and clary sage. Where you've run him a warm bath, poured him a glass of his favourite scotch (and a bottle of water, because God knows this man needs something more than malt in his belly), and you've given him a cigar. You don't condone his bad habits, but he's a man who bears the brunt of everything in his aching muscles. You let him have his comforts—some of the only things he chooses for himself.

You pull him into the bathroom, undress himself yourself despite his protests that you're doing too much, he doesn't any of this, he just wants you—

You press kisses, and pepper reverent whispers into each battle scar and old wound. You sing hymns in every knot that clots under his skin until it's smooth again.

It's easy to revere him in the same way he does you, and you worship each blemish on his body until adamantine sapphires melt into liquid blue lagoons. Until his shoulders sag, and the wrinkles in his forehead dissipate.

He goes willingly when you tug him into the tub, brows raising when you get in first, settling against the back. Price huffs, amused, a little bewildered, but he goes along with your demands, and sinks into your embrace. It's a little awkward, a little unsure. He isn't a man who allows himself these small moments of affection—its all saved for you. Not him, never him.

But you persist.

You've never held him like this—and with the way he tenses before liquifying with a groan into your arms, you wonder if anyone ever has. It cudgels into you. A small moment where you resolve, absolutely, to hold him like this more often.

Price huffs, and tsks the entire time you wash him, telling you it isn't worth it, he can just shower, you don't need to go so far for me, love.

It breaks you a little.

You press a kiss to his nape. "Shut up, and let me spoil you for a moment."

The stutter in his lungs, the sudden silence—it's all an extension of just how brassbound and ironclad his resolve is, and how heavy he must feel to carry it all alone. Has anyone ever spoiled him before? Has anyone ever tried to rub the grit off with gentle hands, and a soft touch?

(You ache at the thought.)

You nip his skin when he sinks down against you, eyes fluttering shut in a moment of contentment, bliss. He looks so young like this. So raw and vulnerable, and you feel the affection spume deep inside of you. Your unshakeable mountain of a man.

Your head falls, forehead resting on this shoulder as you run your fingers over his worn, battered flesh. Each stroke to his skin is done with purpose, conviction. You touch him as if you could suffuse the heft of your love into his marrow where it will aerate in his heavy bones, and ease his burdens.

He rumbles, a noise of pure pleasure, and you hug him closer to your body at the surprise that leaks into the grunt.

He deserves the world and more—

"I'll make you feel even better when we're finished, love."

—and you plan on showing him.

#soft john price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #imagines #kindaaa????#this got away from me a little bit but god #this man is making me lose my mind

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redwhitebreeze · 10 months

Text

I finally got to read Black Lagoon

And God. Fucking. Dammit

My boy Rock has had such development I am astonished, I imagined he would be a crybaby for like 3,4 volumes tops but nope my man just keeps going and going.

I can't wait to see more.

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neverland93 · 4 months

Text

Peter Pan Imagine/ Get In The Water.

The boys and Peter were day drinking as always, just enjoying each others company and telling each other secrets that they swore never to tell a soul.

You were reading your book and not paying attention to whatever they were saying.

“Hey let’s go to the beach!” A lost boy says

“Why all we would get is sand up our asses.” A older lost boy says

“Let’s go to the lagoon.” A older lost boy says

Peter turns his way and furrows his brows together, knowing damn well they can’t go there.

“Yeah!” Everyone cheers.

“The beach is fine.” Peter interrupted as he gets up and walks towards it

“No co come on Pan we haven’t been to the lagoon in forever!” A younger lost boy says

“Let’s just go to the beach and maybe after dinner we can go okay?” Peter says and they all agree. After all he is king of the island.

After fun games of hide and go seek, catch the ball, and roasting marshmallows along with day drinking the boys had enough and were drunk enough to head to the lagoon.

Peter didn’t even realize they were walking there until he heard them, the mermaids, he heard them singing and snapped out of his drunken mind right away.

“You guys we should go-“ he was interrupted by the leader of the mermaids

“I've been waiting for this moment, For the perfect time to strike for our paths to collide. I've got a reputation. Ive got a name to uphold. So I can't go letting you walk or else Neverland forgets I'm cold.” She says

Peter walks in front of you and the lost boys

“This was years ago Megera, can we let this go?” He asked, almost begging.

“You made our life’s hell Pan, now get in the water.” She demanded.

“But-“ was all he said before she said it again

“Get in the water.” With demand

Peter wiggles his fingers and looks around at the boys and you, he had a choice to make.

“Or I'll raise the tide so high, all of Neverland will die. Get in the water!” She yelled at him

“Wait!” Peter said

“Peter!” You yelled not wanting him to get in.

Peter turns and looks at you with worried eyes for the first time all his confidence was out the door.

“Get in the water. Get in the water! Don't mistake my threats for bluff. You have lived more than enough!” She yelled at him

Peters eyes were widen

“I'll take your lost boys and gouge their eyes. That is, unless you choose to die. Get in the water!”she yelled as the other mermaids were right next to her smiling and smirking at Peter.

“Pan don’t!” The boys yelled at him

He kept looking back and fourth. From you, to the mermaids, to the boys.

“Aren't you tired, Meg? It's been 8 years, how long will this go? We're both hurting from losses, so why not leave this here and just go home?” He yelled her begging for mercy.

You’ve never seen Peter this way, all his walls were broken down, confidence wiped away.

“No. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, GET IN THE WATER!” She yelled

Peter’s lips trembled and took off his flute necklace, you knew what was coming next.

“Peter!” You cried

“No!” The lost boys yelled

Peter jumped in the water, sacrificing his life for yours, and the boys.

#robbie kay #peter pan #ouat #once upon a time #peter pan imagine #peter pan request #peter pan imagines #peter pan stories #neverland #fandom #get in the water #get in the water epic #epic the musical

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radioactive-earthshine · 7 months

Note

12 for the ask game!!

12. Pick up to 7 characters to star in a Teen Titans ongoing (any era or generation you like). What tone do you envision for this series?

I guess I'll just do my Jason Todd Lives AU Teen Titans Dream Team.

YES I know if Jason lived his team would likely just be Kon, Bart, Cassie, Greta and Cissie with little change in regards to lineup, he is only two years older than Tim - but let's for fun think of something else.

1.) Jason Todd "Robin" 2.) Eddie Bloomberg "Kid Devil" 3.) Rose Wilson "Ravager" 4.) Amy Winston "Amethyst" 5.) Virgil Hawkins "Static" 6.) Ray Terrill "The Ray" 7.) Arisia Rrab "Green Lantern"

With others including;

Courtney Whitmore "Stargirl/Star Spangled Kid" Grant Emerson "Damage" La'Gaan "Lagoon Boy" Raquel Ervin "Rocket" Zachary Zatara Isaiah Crockett "Hot Spot" Jaime Reyes "Blue Beetle"

And just randomly deciding to show up to be a member and they can't get rid of him...

Klarion Bleak "Klarion The Witch Boy" The tone for this series I think would be.... It gets better. We all hurt, we all are scared for the future, what might be there, but it will get better. I also imagine seeing them going off-world a few times with Arisia taking them to face X conflict and them going to Gemworld etc.

#jason todd #eddie bloomberg #rose wilson #amy winston #virgil hawkins #ray terril #arisia rrab #courtney whitmore #grant emerson #la'gaan #raquel ervin #zachary zatara #isaiah crockett #jaime reyes #klarion bleak #jason todd lives au

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itsdaifuku · 2 years

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the maid outfit saga continues:

(this pic was taken by sweetheart and posted on their instagram story, well you can imagine what the shaw pack bois commented)

so as an extension of my previous post about who would wear a maid outfit as a punishment....i had to draw them.. right? i just had to.

angel definitely goes for the typical anime girl neko maid aesthetic.

sweetheart is still a badass in maid costume (like roberta from black lagoon). probably has a knife under that floofy dress.

babe is just eye candy, the maid the prince (asher) would fall in love for.

#redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #redactedverse #redacted shaw pack #fanart #redacted fanart #redacted fanfic #redacted angel #redacted babe #redacted sweetheart #redacted audio #redacted asher #redacted davey #redacted david #redacted milo #daifuku's sketches

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kedsandtubesocks · 10 months

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WE'RE STARTING SPOOKY SEASON EARLIER IM SOOOOOO EXCITED OMG

okay okay i wanna hear your opinion on pedro boys and what monsters they would be !!!!

LETS START SPOOKY SUMMER OFF RIGHT AND IM SO GLAD ITS WITH YOU BB thank you for sending this amazing ask in 🥺🎃 ✨

Okay…this is something I know we’ve talked about many times in our deep discussions but now that I think about the other boys I’m like “…oh shit” so here we GO LOL

Javi P: a type of were-creature, I love the idea of Javi having the ties to a Texas and Latino based monster and as someone who’s great tia swore she saw the chupacabra and then knowing there’s a monster/beast I’ve heard legend about living in the hill country, theres something familiar and close knit tradition about were-creatures based in local and cultural urban legends that fits Javi’s vibes about being so connected to his home

Pero T: yes he is a peak werewolf but I will say this until I write the fic but he is a lake monster, creature from the black lagoon style, he lurks likes his isolation and is aware to his surroundings. He would do perfect as a lake monster simply surviving as a grumpy hiding monster under the waves

Marcus Pike: DRAGON!!! Grand beautiful majestic creatures that hoard precious things? Marcus is all about the arts and seeing the beauty in everything, those vibes just make me think of him as this beautiful grand dragon that hoards art until he finds you his most precious treasure

Dave York: something demonic, he always reminds me of the Lucifer figure - this perfect soldier who followed orders until he questioned his existence and is now disillusioned and corrupt living on his own terms now

Frankie: my sweet werewolf boy, loyal big and forever protective and will bare his fangs whenever he feels threatens and has a bit of a temper, also can you imagine how COZY HE WOULD BE??

Din: ghost, he’s a ghost that’s simply living in this strange beskar armor but his spirit is so strong and righteous that it stays alive and haunts his armor. But he is tender and speaks with the softest whispers in the wind, like a echo you wonder if you even heard in the first place

Joel: a ghost like Din but a much scarier version, like a spirit of vengeance that is violent and fierce, powerful in its rage but a known protector that watches over anyone who walks home alone at night, he sits in the trees with eyes that are so dark they blend with the night

Jack: Vampire, suave a bit extravagant and luxurious and I only am doing this cause I want him to make all the stupid vampire puns and even has fake vampire plastic teeth he playfully uses from time to time, also can you imagine him slick gelled hair back super classic Dracula style?? 😮‍💨

Dieter: shapeshifter, he’s a man of many faces and many roles that you wonder if he even knows what his true self looks like anymore, goes into how he’s an actor and I think there’s so many layers to dieter that he keeps up to make sure no one truly knows him

Ezra: eldritch space creature, has many eyes speaks in many voices that seem out of this realm but he is kind and moves very gently. He is wise beyond his years and is interested in all things human, but like any eldritch creature it can be tricky and turn on a whim when need be

Javi G: Mothman!! Super sweet and chattery and is kind of an odd ball but simply wants to be left alone in the woods but remains curious about the world around him, holds a certain charm to him but is still a dangerous creature underneath it all

Wow I ramble away with these I’m SORRY

#this was written in my kitchen cause I got POSSESSED ERI #THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO MEEEE #also thank you thank you so much I love you wow #long post #Pedro boys #asks and such things 💌#Eri’s tag 🐝 ✨#e babbles #Pedro boys 🤎

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disneyparksattractionstournament · 5 months

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Round 1 of Extinct Disney Parks attractions and experiences matchups

Group A:

A1:

Horizons vs Space Mountain - Ghost Galaxy

Innoventions vs Magic of Disney Animation

Rocket Rods vs Backlot tour

Disneyland's Peoplemover vs Adventure Thru Inner Space

River country vs Discovery island

Wonders of Life Sensory Fun house vs Honey I Shrunk the Kids playset

Stitch's Great Escape! vs The Enchanted Tiki Room:Under New Management

Shark reef (Typhoon Lagoon) vs Kim Possible: World Showcase Adventure

A2:

Cinderella Castle Mystery Tour vs ExtraTerrorestrial Alien Encounter

The Great Movie Ride vs World of Motion

California Screamin vs Maelstrom

Test Track 1.0 vs Ellen's Universe of Energy

Cranium Command vs El Rio del Tiempo

Journey Into Imagination vs 20k leagues under the sea

Season of the Vine vs Mission Tortilla Factory

Superstar Limo vs Orange Stinger

Group B:

B1:

25th Cake Castle vs Stitch TP castle

Epcot Spaceship Earth Wand/2000 vs Earffel Tower

Pre-Frozen Norway Epcot vs Wonders of Life pavilion

The Land fountain/pre 2004 The Land vs Epcot future world floor fibre optic lights

Downtown disney vs Millennium village

Aunt Polly’s vs Soundstage restaurant

Mouse Gear vs Old World of Disney

Old entrance plaza/section of DCA vs A Bugs Land

B2:

Pizza planet vs Electric umbrella

Big coke bottle mist sprays at MGM vs Space Mountain bouncy walkway after ride

Cinderella Castle Christmas lights vs Old Cinderella Castle colors

Toontown fair vs Streets of America

MGM Sorcerer's hat vs DCA letters

Fountain of Nations vs Old Polynesian Lobby

Ice Station Cool vs Old MK hub/plaza

Pleasure Island vs Disney Quest

Group C:

C1:

Mickey and the Magical Map vs Main Street Electrical Parade

Spirit of Aloha dinner show vs Legend of the Lion King

Remember the Magic/Magical Moments parade vs Dream Along With Mickey show

Magic Journeys vs Honey, I Shrunk the Audience

Illuminations vs Star Wars Fireworks

Red Cad Trolley News Boys vs Club Buzz / Calling All Space Scouts… a Buzz Lightyear Adventure

Character dining at the Liberty Tree Tavern vs Push the Talking Trash Can

Food Rocks/Kitchen Kabaret vs The Muppets Present...Great Moments in American History

C2:

Golden Dreams vs Eureka! The California Adventure Parade

Tapetry of Nations parade vs Wishes

Citizens of Hollywood/Main street vs Lucky the Dinosaur

Mickey climbing the Matterhorn vs Disneyland mermaids

Paint the Night Parade vs Mad T Party

Stars and Motorcars parade vs Mickey's Jammin Jungle Parade

Animagique vs Kitetails

Spectromagic parade vs Mickey Mania parade

Group D:

D1:

Old Kilimanjaro Safaris with plotline/Little Red VS. Fountains in Small World/old colors

Osborne Family Spectacle of Dancing Lights vs Jedi Training Academy

Disney dollars vs Hard tickets at Disney World

Old look of chocolate coins in parks(with Dumbo, Jiminy Cricket, and Scrooge) vs Wake Tinker Bell at Tinker Bell’s Treasures

Wading in lakes/beaches vs Riding in the front of the monorail

Tom Sawyer paint brushes vs Magical express

Pal Mickey vs Epcot Living statues

Strawberry Minnie Fruit bars vs Simba Paw ice cream bar

D2:

Extra magic hours(Like, the ones where they stayed open til 12am or even 3am) vs Star Wars Weekends

Yellow ponchos vs Hotel mickey soap

Unique Bedspreads vs Resort Bedtime stories TV

Fun road signs vs Epcot Innoventions and old Entrance loop

Epcot kidcot masks/duffy vs Penny press with cranks

Free roaming characters in Disney World vs Paper fastpasses

Mickey straws vs Pirates of the Caribbean barker parrot

Old attic scene in Haunted Mansion with pop up yelling jump scare ghosts VS. Pre 2007 Spaceship Earth ending

#matchups #match ups #round 1 #disney #disney parks extinct attractions tournament

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bearmemesreviews · 3 months

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Skylanders Review: Gill Grunt

Now that we got the golden boy out of the way, we can get into the things that aren't Spyro! And believe it or not, that has more meaning in regard to this series than you'd think - but no spoilers! Let's start with the second Skylander ever introduced, if you bought the base game anyways, Gill Grunt!

[Image: Gill Grunt is a bipedal, humanoid creature with fish-like features similar to the Creature from the Black Lagoon aka Gillman! He has webbed feet and hands, and rounded scales on his limbs. He has blue skin and wears clothing that's a darker, Royal Blue color. Alongside some belts around his wrists, ankles, and waist, he wears something akin to a janitor's jumpsuit with the legs and sleeves cut off. He has wide fishy eyes with yellow sclera and orange irises, alongside fins on his head resembling ears and a mohawk. He lacks teeth, but his bottom jaw has two tusk-like jutting points coming from the bottom lip giving him a pseudo-underbite. He lacks a nose, only having nostril holes in the middle of his face.]

I genuinely cannot tell what this funny fish man is wearing, but I think I've seen anime schoolgirls wear the same thing to battle so he's clearly prepared for anything.

Gill Grunt here actually enlisted in the "gillmen army," but met a mermaid on one of his travels and fell in love. He promised to reunite with her after completing his service but found out that she was kidnapped by pirates after he left. He continues to search for her to this day, and works as a Skylander to combat pirates to prevent this from happening again to others.

Sources vary on whether or not he'll ever find her, or if he did after his many rendezvous with Spyro and his clique. Maybe she doesn't want to be found because she heard about his gillman war crimes.

As a fishman, Gill Grunt is our first Water Elemental Skylander, armed with both a hose gun and some sort of weirdly shaped trident launcher. He's a cute little guy, and he's definitely a good example of the other Water elementals. His story is especially interesting, though unfortunately we never get a fully fish-tailed mermaid as a core figure in the franchise despite how obvious I feel that should've been.

Heck, his story actually lends well to his girlfriend becoming a Skylander if he ever finds her while on Spyro's adventure, but I guess a few upcoming Skylanders fill the niche of singing Ningyo for the franchise. And as a retired war vet, he has enough seniority that he can actually recruit other Skylanders (specifically other Water elementals) on Eon and Spyro's behalf.

Alternates: Gill Grunt gets a slight redesign for Superchargers, now wearing golden armor with a helmet and water tanks on his back. He actually wields a real trident this time.

It's said that Gill Grunt loves singing, which is also what his girlfriend does, but his entire species is tone deaf. The book says it sounds like a jellyfish gargling on seaweed, so imagine that, because I sure can't.

Motto: "Fear the Fish!" - Yeah, a lot of these are just vague and absurd threats but sure Gill Grunt. The ocean is scary, so sound advice. 4/5

Nothing to write home about, but a solid little gill man. Three Chompies out of Five.

#skylanders #bmoreviews #bmoreviewsskylanders #skylanders spyro's adventure #gill grunt #gillman

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melloween-candie · 9 months

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You did it WRONG! [P.P]

Angry Peter x Reader

Imagine: Peter finding out you lost your V-card to one of the lost boys...

Warning! Sex, cussing, belittling, mentions of branding, potential kidnapping, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1,909

[LEMON!!18+++]

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Narrator's Pov***

Being on the verge of childhood and adulthood at the same time was no easy feat. Most of the teenage boys in Neverland were always horny, and most of the younger ones were always rowdy.

But what's worst was that you were stuck in the middle of it. You were a teenage girl who was stuck going into puberty for the rest of infinity. However, it wasn't all that bad.

As a 'child,' you tried your best to be a good girl. To avoid drugs and to keep yourself 'pure.'

But life wasn't easy for you, and you ended up here, in Neverland, when you hit the age of 16. So yeah, you hit a few bumps in the road, but today wasn't a day for gloomy memories.

***Y/n's Pov***

Today was a day to celebrate! A new arrival just came in! He was a tall, somewhat built teenage boy. Peter didn't intend to have this celebration, but everyone persisted. They all wanted a beach day since it was super hot out.

My first interaction with him was a little uncomfortable... I was barely wearing any clothes, and I wasn't really used to him. This could just be me being self-conscious, though; after all, when I got a closer look- I realized he was really cute-looking. I think Peter noticed...

Now, no one really said this party was for the new kid, but it made sense. He was amazing! He managed to pass all the tests Peter put him through. Peter, of course, wasn't really happy about that. He didn't really look forward to any of this.

Time Skip!~

I was the last one to arrive at the lagoon. I saw everyone having so much fun. Then I saw him. He told me his name was jack. (Not an actual character from the show. You can change his name if you want.)

Our eyes met, and something pulled me towards him. As I walked, a few groups of teenage boys started whistling and catcalling me. To most, it would have been annoying, but I liked the attention.

Before, back then, when I was still relatively new, I dated Peter. That's right, Peter Pan. When I did, no one dared catcall me, let alone flirted with me. Some were too scared to even talk to me. It was nice to feel respected, but it was also getting too annoying. Peter started getting too controlling, and he barely ever agrologic me or my needs.

So, getting this attention now felt great. One because of Peter's face and the way he reacts, and two because I finally feel pretty again.

Mind you, my body isn't perfect, and I'm sure I'd get self-conscious if a new girl were to arrive, but that'll never happen. Consider it low of me to think this way, but I was considered the hotshot here! A lot of people wanted a piece of me! How do I know? Because of Peter! The way his mood changes every time he hears someone talking about me... and the fact that the little ones can never hold a secret.

"Hey, Y/n. You're looking a little hot...." Jack smirked. "Wanna go for a swim?"

"Um. Sure." I already knew what he was planning on doing. It was obvious, but I played this innocently. I wanted to play it through. I mean, he's hot, and this is a party.

And I know it's horrible. I never wanted to lose it to anyone while I was still young. But I'm never gonna grow older, and Peter never wanted me... he was always too busy, so that's his loss.

Time Skip!~

We have been swimming in the water for a good while now, and one thing's for sure: he isn't shy at all. Those hands I feel roaming around my body are definitely not mermaids trying to drag me down. Trust me, I had enough experience from them...

"Mhm..." You groan. That wasn't a moan. He just squeezed my hips a little too hard. I looked at him in the eyes.

"You look thirsty~ Care for a drink?" He smirked.

"Um... Yeah. I'd loved one!" I gave him an eye-closed smile. Then he left. When he did, I saw someone through the corners of my eyes. It was Peter, I know it. He stood at a branch way up in the trees. Not a minute moment did he let me look at him. Clearly, he was watching me. I smirked.

Mind you, our breakup wasn't long ago... I swam towards the shore, sitting down on a beach lounge chair. Finally, Jack came back with the drinks. He handed me a cup. The liquid was purple. I could smell it, too... It was clearly spiked. He made a worried face when he saw me smell it, but I only smiled as I drank it all in one sip. He smiled.

But all I could focus on was Peter... He was up on a different tree. No one noticed him at all, but I did. I saw how his fists tightened as I walked with Jack.

"Hey, Jack. I have a great idea!" I said so eagerly. I grabbed his arm, pushing it in-between my breasts. He smirked.

"I think I have the same idea that you do~" Clearly, he was drunk. I don't think he knew that I wasn't a lightweight. But that doesn't matter.

I knew it was bad... but I had a plan. When I dated Peter, he'd always brush me off, but now, when I was up for grabs, he'd act like this?! Clearly, it was high time he saw the mistake he made for leaving me ignored all this time.

I walked towards the woods with Jack in my hands, and things got a whole lot of steamers. The best part was Peter watched it all! I don't even think he blinked!

Though, it wasn't what I expected... it hurt like he*l, and Jack was too drunk to stop for me. He cum, and I had to fake it. Mainly because I wanted this to end... I only did this to fuc* with Peter. I wanted to show him that he would never be able to be my first ever again... And I know how important it is for him to be first every single time.

Though, he did something I never expected...

***Peter's Pov***

So, she thinks she can play mind games with me...?! That little slut. I allowed them to finish. I waited patiently... though she didn't make it easy. Her moans were so god dame loud that it was clearly fake. What's worse was the guy was completely clueless about all of this.

However, that doesn't mean he isn't a part of it... I intend to make them BOTH suffer!

Time skip!~

Finally, that shi* head left...

"Wait!" Y/n called out of nowhere... What is she up to now... "Don't you..." She wiggled her naked body, tempting me... "Want to go again?" She smirked. She was looking directly at me, but that lowly dim whit never realized I was standing right behind him, up on a tree branch. So, in the end, he thought she was looking at him. He dropped his clothes once again, smirking as he turned around. He started walking towards her.

I could have killed him right then and there. All because he turned around... I couldn't let it happen again. I jumped down in between them. He was clearly off guard. That smirk vanished now. I only blinked at him. Staring him down, he was clearly uncomfortable. He tried covering himself up pathetically. I only turned around- I'll deal with him later.

As he ran, I gave Y/n a death glare, and she knew what was coming to her. She wasn't acting all high and mighty now... I walked closer to her as she backed up against a tree. I watched as her virgin blood dripped down her legs. My breath became heavy, and she clearly noticed... my little friend was poking out.

"This is what you wanted right- Y/n?" Her knees quivered as if she couldn't keep herself up any longer. She didn't even bother apologizing.

My face was inches away from her now. I'm sure she sees the red in my eyes. I towered over her, my arms caging her in. My eyes didn't move away from hers as I said- "Do I need to brand you? Just so you'll understand... That you'll never belong to anyone else but me."

The birds rustled the trees as the wind howled. It was getting late, but I didn't care. She needs to be reminded that she isn't human. That- all she is is my toy, and that I get to choose whether I want to play with her or not.

I bite her neck hard, causing her to squeal. I squeezed my teeth into her skin, that I felt blood... her blood- touching my chin. While that happened, I pulled my pants down.

I saw that she had her eyes closed the entire time. I grabbed onto her throat, squeezing it tightly. I wanted to make sure she looked at me the way I looked at her while she was getting fuc*ed. I could tell she was scared. She kept her hands close to herself, and her eyes started watering. It was probably because she couldn't breathe. I giggled. I had a big smile on my face as I shoved my di*k into her tight pus*y.

"Ackk!" She yelped in pain as her back arched.

"Tch. Tell me why I should have craved this again?" I smiled. To her, I probably looked so evil as I thrust myself into her. "After all, this was your plan, right? To make me regret not wanting you the way you wanted me. To make me jealous, to make me beg for you!?"

She didn't say anything but moans and groans. The only answer I liked. Our s*x was so messy. Clearly, the other guy didn't pop her cherry fully because more blood kept coming.

"Now, if you're going to fu*k someone... at least make sure they do it right!" I said with a massive thrust, causing her to moan my name. At this point, saliva was dripping down her mouth. It was a huge turn-on. I connected my lip with hers as I kept pounding her into this tree. When I left her lips, a string of saliva connected us. As I felt her blood dripping down my legs... "God, this felt so good," I muttered through gritted teeth. As I listened to her moans and our skin slapping each other... I almost came... however, I realized something.

"Look at that- you got your nasty blood on my shoes!" I slapped her hard. Her cheek turned so red I couldn't help but laugh as I continued fuc*ing her throughout the night.

BONUS

The Next Day

***Felix's Pov***

"Jack!?" I was knocking at Jack's door, trying to wake him up so I could show him how to do all the chores...

Screw this. I bust open the door out of frustration. "JACK!" I yelled, but he wasn't even here... weird. Where could he have gone? I mean, he doesn't even know Neverland, so why would he just flat-out leave.

I rolled my eyes... why do I have a feeling that Peter's behind this...?

#once upon a time #once upon a time peter pan #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #lemon #ouat fandom #ouat felix

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rumbelleshowdown · 1 year

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Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Every day. Monster, fear, cold sweat. Celebrity.

Group: B

Tomorrow

“You’re late, dearie.”

Belle jolts, whirling around, her feet skidding on the shelf of wet rock. She manages to keep her balance, wobbling on the edge of the crystalline pool. Two dark eyes bob above the water, sharp and observant, unsympathetic to her flailing.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that,” she huffs.

The creature lifts further out of the water, looking menacing with his mane of matted curls hanging in his face. Then, he shakes his head like a wet dog and grins.

“Your lack of spa-cial aware-ness has naught to do with me.”

The words are stodgy in his mouth, so he pronounces them slowly. These were acquired from the book she read aloud to him yesterday. Rumple’s mind was a funny wee lagoon; when she cast new words into it, they usually resurfaced as ammunition to tease her.

He slithers to the pool’s edge, moving through the water like an eel. He props his elbows up on the rocks.

“You’re late,” he says again.

“How can you even tell?”

His crocodilian eyes shift to a silver pocket watch that dangles from a knobbly finger of overhanging rock. It looks suspiciously like the one that used to hang from a fob on Jefferson’s waistcoat.

Belle’s lips press into a thin line. “Yes, well, it’s becoming quite tricky to leave my house without being badgered about another ‘recovery mission’. I think I might need to start charging for my services. You’re becoming too…popular in the village.”

Notorious is a more appropriate term, but she knows he would enjoy that label far too much.

It is not uncommon to see Finfolk off the coast of the Orkney Islands. It is, however, unheard of to catch more than a glimpse of talon and tail as they steal a fish off the end of your line. They don’t linger near the shore. And they certainly don’t take up residence in a grotto at the base of the headland, transforming the limestone ledges into a personal museum of pilfered trinkets.

“I hear you’ve been tipping rowboats again,” she says.

“Shouldn’t have rowed so close to the cave,” he trills, “Def-ini-tely shouldn’t have been out on the water if you don’t know how to swim.”

Rumple’s behavior has elevated him from overgrown sardine to local celebrity; a spectacle at the best of times and a menace at the worst. And when Belle’s routine visits to the grotto became public knowledge, the villagers thrust a title upon her as well. Hostage negotiator.

She scans the cave, searching for possible new additions to his hoard. She feels like she’s playing one of those ‘spot the difference’ games they print on children’s menus. Ah, there. Coiled around a stalagmite is a heart-shaped locket, its ruby pendant winking in the reflection of the pool.

“You know, Miss Lucas used to have a necklace just like that. She took it off to swim one afternoon and, by the time she’d paddled back to the docks, it had vanished.”

“Extra-ordin-ary coincidence.” His expression might have looked innocent on a small boy or a puppy, but it only succeeds in making him look all the more devilish.

Belle shakes her head and bends down to unravel the locket. She pockets it, ignoring his cry of protest.

“And I’m going to need the tackle box you nicked from Marco’s boat.”

He scowls up at her. She can just imagine his tail flicking with irritation. He must have known she’d come asking for that particular prize, as he’d stashed it beneath the water rather than displaying it above.

“What if I trade you for it?” she offers.

His gaze darts to the basket cradled in the crook of her arm. His furrowed brow gives a faint twitch, his resolve instantly weakening. Hook. Line. Sinker.

With a profane grumble, he ducks back under the water. His vocabulary has been increasing in color ever since he started spying on the sailors at the docks.

Belle watches him disappear into the deep as she sits down at the pool’s edge and begins unlacing her boots. She has learned the hard way that heels have rubbish traction.

Some say that jewelry and fishing gear aren’t all that the Fin like to steal. The villagers tell tales of those that have been ferried away to a kingdom beneath the waves. The legends serve as requiems for the men and women who were dragged to the depths and eternally imprisoned in unlawful marriages to the Fins that snatched them. Belle thinks that’s nonsense. The Finfolk detest humans and – typically – want as little to do with them as possible. It would be like kidnapping a cockroach from the gutter to keep as a pet.

Still, the superstition persists. Even when begging her to rescue his tackle box from the sea beast’s lair, Marco had cautioned, “Be careful, girl. He’ll steal you too, if he gets the chance.”

Belle dips her toes into the cool water. Marco’s words echo in her mind as she feels a clawed hand latch onto her ankle. Her scream bounces off the cave walls. Rumple’s head breaches the water’s surface again, eyes glinting with wicked glee.

“…for…for god’s sake, Rumple,” she gasps, pressing her hand over her chest, trying to work her heart out of her throat.

He laughs, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. She’s reminded of what a terror he must be to unsuspecting fishermen.

His grin wanes when it comes time to surrender his treasure. Rumple reluctantly hands over the tackle box, looking so forlorn that she almost regrets taking it from him. She knows how enamored he is with the little lures and bobbers.

He plants both hands on the rock and, lean muscles straining, heaves himself up onto the rim beside her. His tail hits the stone with a wet slap.

No artist has ever truly rendered the ethereal beauty of a Fin. They refuse to be pinned to a canvas and captured in a frame. There is no shade of paint that can reproduce the exact green-gold color of their tails, nor their iridescent quality in the sunlight. Belle’s eyes follow the scales up his body to where they become a smattering over his belly, just about where most human men have a trail of fine hair.

Aware of where her eyes are fixed, Rumple reaches for the basket with both hands like an impatient child. Her reflexes are a tad quicker and she slides it out of reach.

“No. Don’t grab. It’s not polite.”

He gives her a rude gesture – something else he undoubtedly picked up from the sailors. The effect is somewhat less potent with his webbed fingers.

After the thermos of hot chocolate had gone down so well last week, Belle suspects his serrated teeth might be quite sweet. She produces a small bundle from the basket, unwrapping the gingham handkerchief to reveal a crumbly stack of homemade shortbread. Rumple peers at it, captivated as the scent of honey and coriander hits his nose.

“Dry your hands first or it’ll go all mushy.”

Rumple does dry his hands; not on the handkerchief, but on her jumper, his talons snagging the woolen yellow fibers on her sleeve. He swipes a wedge before she can delay him any longer.

He takes a small, suspicious bite. She can tell the exact moment that the butter-rich biscuit dissolves on his tongue. His eyes go wide and he looks to her with such childlike delight, it makes her heart beat wildly against her rib cage.

“There are otters up the coastline. They have pups,” he says suddenly, as though trying to bolster his half of the trade. “I’ll take you to see them.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming.”

He rolls his eyes. That isn’t something he learned from the sailors. That is something he adopted from her.

“You can’t get these clothes wet, but you can put on different clothes speci-fic-ally to get wet?”

He wrinkles his nose indignantly. His derisive ‘urgh, humans’ is unspoken, but is heard all the same.

“I’ll wear something suitable tomorrow. You can bring me then.”

Tomorrow. He loves that word more than anything.

His sullen expression melts away. He leans in expectantly. Now, this is special. This is something he taught her. Belle meets him halfway, resting her forehead against his. His crooked nose presses into her cheek, their faces slotting together like two puzzle pieces. They stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. His lips twist into a lopsided smile and he pulls back.

That means, ‘I’m happy’. It means, ‘thank you’.

It means, ‘love you’.

Rumple’s tail thumps the rock again, splashing water over her legs, the droplets clinging to her calves like a sheen of cold sweat. She watches him examine a second piece of shortbread like it’s made of solid gold.

‘Yes, tomorrow’, Belle thinks, smiling down at where his fin grazes her ankles.

‘Perhaps he’ll steal me tomorrow.’

#rumbelle showdown #round one #rumbelle fic #rose daughter

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