#i probably do have more im looking forward to in immortal fears but that is definitely the biggest one rn
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i have two fic questions! one, do you have any plans or ideas for any other multi-chaptered fics? and two, being as vague or as detailed as you like, which scene are you most excited to write next in immortal fears?
aaaaa as of right now, im marinating an old idea in my brain that would be a multi-parter, but we'll see if i ever actually get around writing that... i did post like a quick wip of it back ages ago when i started it, but just never ended up doing more with it, but basically it would be a kip/penny lovers to friends to fwb to lovers kinda deal idk. i just wanted a lot of relationship stuff and thoughts and for them to realize that man they just REALLY love one another. we'll see if i ever return to that. but other than that no, im usually really bad with multi-parters, so i dont dare to try to have more than one thing going at a time now that im more or less back into the swing of things lol
CHUCK AND OC FALLING OUT ive already written the other two ive been really excited for so far in my plans (THE moment and the kip/penny apology bit i did last night) and i just. completely wanna break these two apart next. im probably gonna hold out on this until im actually there in the storyline cause its technically not that far away, but yeah. yeah i just want to completely crush some psyches with this one. sorry chuck (ngl this one is even more exciting now that ive realized i really enjoy writing chuck so. OOF)
#i probably do have more im looking forward to in immortal fears but that is definitely the biggest one rn#at least until i figure out something else i really want to add lol#midnightpretenders0#thank you for asking! <3
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INCOMING VAMPIRE AU THOUGHTS
Don't mind me I'm finally getting the ideas I had on this shit out so I can actually go forward with developing it as an AU. It's my usual mixup of fps protags, Gordon Guy and John, but I'm starting with Gordon as the Vampire and Guy as the Vampire Hunter.
absolute beast of a wall of text under the cut
What If Being A Vampire Literally Sucks All The Time Forever like chronic pain sucks. like THAT level of sucks. Like Here's what I was thinking of. Being a vampire isn't just "being alive forever but you need to drink human blood" It's like Oh man I have some lore you look at vampires and their main thing is that they're blood suckers right so lets start with a corpse dead body. cadaver. no longer with us. just some rotting meat. The brain needs oxygen as fuel. The blood supplies the oxygen through blood. The blood is pumped through the heart. The blood is made by your bone marrow. You die. Your heart stops beating Blood stops pumping Brain no longer has oxygen to think marrow stops making blood thats standard! Now, becoming undead, as a vampire, is a little more complicated. The long and short of it is: your body is FIGHTING ACTIVELY to be alive against all odds and wins every time (immortality), but it hurts the whole way
I have the gist of it. It's like. Your heart stops. By all means, you should be dead. but the magic kicks in, and you're still thinking. Your brain is still sending signals to your muscles to move. But using what oxygen to move? whats burning in you? You don't know but you know it's just enough to get to your next meal. So you ferociously eat something, and then find you can't swallow. You can't make saliva. You barely have the energy to chew, and once you DO get something in your stomach, it immediately comes back up. Why can't you feel your pulse? What's going on? You're out of options so you figure you might as well just lie down and die. You're too tired to keep going anyway. So you do, you lie down, and you close your eyes, and you quietly hope that death is as peaceful as sleep. You realize you've actually been moving around without breathing, which makes sense because you can barely flex your diaphragm for more than a shaky wheeze. How are you thinking with such little oxygen? But as you fade from consciousness, you can feel something in you, and it's so upset, it's crying, it's filled with grief, and you instantly can tell it's your skeleton. It's your bones. You're distraught down to your marrow. You're dying. You're dying! Your heart stopped and you have no more blood! You need blood! You need blood to move! To breathe! To think! You try to breath deep again for the voices in your bones, trying to comfort them, to sooth them with the repetitive motion in your lungs, trying to fill yourself with anything but grief, but they keep wailing. We make the blood, our creation, our child, what we put all of our work into is gone! gone! gone! We need it back! Anything! All of it! Find it! Bring it back to us! We're hungry! WE'RE HUNGRY!
and once you find yourself too exhausted to listen, to think, how badly you wish just to die already to cease hearing this wailing, you find your body moving without you. And it's hungry and it's searching and it's crawling on all fours and it misses its beautiful red life that made it feel so full before and it needs it back, and the next thing you know you're desperately grabbing anything with blood in it and shoving it in your mouth in a desperate attempt to sooth this cry for life, you don't want to die, you don't want to die, you worked so hard to keep up this body and craft it and LIVE with it and you're not going to go, and even when you try, even when you try to lay down and die, your body refuses, it takes the reigns, and it keeps up the work itself with or without your help. And it's not until your stomach is full and your teeth are stained and you feel a pulsating burning in your bones that you snap back awake, completely conscious, just fine. You're lucid, you don't feel any more pain. Everything around you is dead and drained and messy and your heart still isn't beating. but you can breathe now and holy shit you guess you literally need to kill to survive and the less you eat and the more you starve yourself the worse it gets when your body finally decides to take recourse.
my idea was like. "the vampires curse is actually stored in the bones, thats why the teeth get so sharp and also theres a connection between blood and bones with the creation via bone marrow" its literally like i was sitting there thinking "no no no, whats it like to be a vampire. what neurosis would you develop. How would you panic? What are common mistakes beginner vampires make" which, by the way, gordon is a beginner vampire
so now you gotta factor, what blood lasts for how long? how long can you go between meals? not only that, but what creatures satisfy the urge? How long can you go avoiding human blood? Does it work like drugs where you develop a resistance to the high, or is it like food where it will keep you moving until you eat again? How the fuck are you gonna get your hands on blood? Can you just eat raw meat? Does that count? and thats where im at lol
OKAY now. now thoughts on beginning scenes of vampire au
So my idea was this Doomguy is a vampire hunter independent and one of his buds says that some freak scared and almost attacked his daughter when she got too close to his old abandoned laboratory up the hill and hes like “he might be… you know… a problem. if you needed a lead” and guys like yeah i fuckin hate the undead ill kill this dude so he busts into old lab space and sees so many dead animals its actually mostly Bones and pelt that hes seeing piles of feathers etc so hes like yeah this is all telltale signs of vampire uhhh hes introduced to gordon SOMEHOW im not totally sure of the details but the working idea i have is guy falls into a trap gordon devised that restrains him suspended in wire or something and gordon like. limps/stumbles into the room and this dude looks haggard he’s breathing heavy, his cheeks are hollow, he’s bug-eyed and shaking while looking at this massive wall of meat in his trap and he bares a bunch of hideous teeth and grits them and looks like hes really struggling with somethin... Like if these dudes don't know each other then Gordon might give in and try to drain Guy, and Guy would absolutely do anything in his power to turn this new vampire into ash, im thinking the inclusion if g-man as a coven leader can fix both issues.
i like the idea of guy falling into gordons trap and gordon thinking about what to do with him before gman shows up and whisks gordon away for a “meeting” while complimenting him on his good work catching the most feared vampire hunter in the country and gman just leaving guy suspended in wires that he has to fight his way out of. Instant situation defuser.
Guy ends up needing to take care of other monsters before going back to Gordon, and he DOES plan to go back to gordon, because no vampire is a good one, especially not one associated with the fucking head of a coven, but next time he sees Gordon, Gordon helps him out of a scrape by attacking and draining a combine who was going to take Guy out or something and escaping before Guy can catch him, or otherwise seeing Gordon do something good with his insane undead powers and like, the third time he meets up with him is when they can actually talk, and Gordons fuckin SO haggard, he’s not even fighting back and he’s even going as far as to say “just make sure theres nothing of me left when you’re done, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt”
Side Note: Guy has a bunch of scarring on his body from dealing with vampires, cops, ghosts, werewolves, anything violent that kills people. I'm playing with the inkling of an idea that he has Divine Blood in him, so that any time something undead bites him or tries to drink his blood, it burns. We'll see.
Side Note 2: now i really like the idea of the combine actually being an organized faction of vampire hunters that are WICKED crooked and exploit people for all their worth in exchange for their “safety” when they kill a vampire They’re essentially loansharks and Guy fucking hates them and hates the name theyve given to vampire hunting
Side Note 3: You've probably noticed that I haven't said anything about John yet! He's in this too. His species is a surprise but I need to get to him later I have an idea for where he came from (Cortana too)
I still need a good reason for Guy to not instantly kill this vampire, if not it's just gonna be "Gordon Freeman escapes the countrys best vampire hunter like a seventh time" every time they meet and they end up being rivals. And it gives Guy enough time to look past the whole "undead monster" thing and start looking at the "Oh this dude figured out how to fight his ridiculous craving for blood in a way more humane than most and is actually staying out of peoples way and keeping to himself. Guess he's not that big of a threat but I still need to keep an eye on him in case he loses it. Turns out he's got a family (Probably Alyx, Eli, Issac and Barney) who's been lookin for him and cares about him as well, don't wanna hurt them". I like the idea of them ending up needing to team up to take out undead together.
And that's what I got so far!!!
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so in one of your asks you said you dont think cas was in love with dean since the beginning and idk its interesting to me because everyone seem to think he was from the start so what is your take on that? idk im just curious haha
ohhh I wanted to make a post about this so thanks for asking!
disclaimer: I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade I just have a different take on this whole thing!!!
So. I see people are like: OMG he was in love ALL THIS TIME SINCE 4x01 and I am like: no.
Was he lost since he laid his hand on Dean in hell? Yes. Was he instantly in love? Nah.
See, Cas in season 4 and 5 is starting to feel. He is conflicted, he is questioning, he doesn’t have ‘people skills’, he is confused by what he feels, he knows there is a ‘profound bond’ between him and Dean and he is rebelling for Dean, because Dean has a point and Cas feels Dean is right and apocalypse and destruction are wrong, and this human is so human and he never had that connection before. Add the sexual innuendos, the eye fucking and the tension between those two and this is what i call ‘classic destiel’. I do have a strong feeling this is partly Jensen’s and Misha’s fault though haha but I am also convinced that the jokes like ‘Cas, get out of my ass!’/’Blow me Cas’ are purely for ‘comedic purposes’ because haha gay so funny (keep in mind it’s still 2008/2009 and things were so different then BUT we still got Endverse which had not only sexual stuff implied but romantic as well - ‘all we have left, Dean and I, is each other, if Dean says it’s time to go in a blaze of glory, so be it’ (I am writing this from memory so these might not have been exact lines but you know what I am talking about).
And then in season 6 and 7 is where things start to get romantic. ‘I watched you rake leaves’, Dean’s blind faith that no, Cas can’t be working with Crowley behind their backs because come on it’s Cas and the whole 6x20 episode is *chief’s kiss* and then season 7 and Cas dies to make things right and Dean keeps his trenchcoat and moves it from every car they have been using that season to always have it with him because part of me always believed you’d come back. OK, but I was meant to be talking mostly about Cas’ point of view. Which takes me back to 7x23 and I’d rather have you, cursed or not. I think these words had a major impact on Cas. Something just clicked. Because he realized that he could say these exact same words to Dean and they still would be true.
And then we got season 8 which was a major shift and it really moved stuff from ‘sexual tension’ to ‘romantic tension’ and it’s still called ‘season fanfiction’ because I wanted to keep them away from you in purgatory and Cas generally not feeling worthy of anything but I think this is when he started to realize that what he feels is not like ‘brotherly friendship’ but something much deeper but he had his issues (I don’t deserve to be saved from purgatory thing) so he kind of kept it buried. But this was when the Real Love really started. But did he admit it to himself? Well I am not in Cas’ head but something must have been on his mind - Naomi had access too his mind and she immediately recognized that there is a certain Feeling that is dangerous and Cas needs to be fucking lobotomized (I still have shivers thinking about it). Did Naomi knew it was love? Idk, but she felt something was going on - that is why she tried to mess things up between Dean and Cas (I only wish he felt the same way ouch my heart....) and Metatron also recognized it, quicker and better (maybe because he spent much more time on earth and was generally a little more powerful and knowing as the scribe of God) and he immediately used Cas’ grace to banish angels from heaven because Cas was feeling love for a human. But did he, himself recognized it as love? Did he admit it to himself? I still have a feeling that no. I still think that his ‘I don’t know’ after Dean’s ‘What broke the connection?’ was honest.
Now let me fast forward to season 12, because this post is getting too long already and while seasons 9-11 had some good episodes and even good destiel scenes I feel this was the time many people - rightly so - were starting to lose faith in canon destiel, starting with Dean not letting Cas stay in the bunker in season 9 and bros acting like they only call Cas when they need him. I repeat - there were still some good episodes, even great ones. And we were shown Cas worried about Dean and being there for him anytime Dean called, there was so much pining but once again let me raise The Question: did Cas know what he was feeling was love? Or was he still confused, not letting himself believe, not being able to name his own feelings and emotions? And this is merely my opinion but this is also time where many people started to be bitter and negative by how writers treated Cas (and other characters in general but I am not gonna dive into that dumpster now, especially the Cas-having-sex-with-a-reaper thing which was awful, but in retrospect is even more awful because if it was Chuck’s writing this seems like some kind of sick attempt to do a conversion therapy and I want to throw up; plus he thought? he was into his boss at gas’n’sip and he thought she was into him and what even was it if not a. bad writing; b. Cas being confused; c. Cas being confused about this bad writing).
So season 12. First of all 12x12, when Cas thought he is gonna die and the infamous line ‘I love you. I love all of you’ happened. I am 100% sure this is when Cas realized. This must have prompted questions for him. Why did I say what I said? He blurted those words out but why like that? Aaaand after some thinking I think he realized why. He must’ve been like ‘oooops’. But then Jack was about to be born and he had to protect Kelly and then he died.
And then he is in the Empty who says - I know who you love, I know what you fear, there is nothing for you out there. She doesn’t know shit, she just has access to Cas’ mind and apparently those were his thoughts, already at that time, he thought there was nothing for him out there (again, his depression issues) BUT THEN CAS, MY SWEET CAS, THIS BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER says fuck you Empty in one of his best monologues (before 15x18 I’d say it was his best but here we are) and she yeets him out, because HE decided HE is already saved and he doesn’t need a permission and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I'm awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for... ever. For eternity.
And then Jack dies and he takes the humiliating deal. And now we’re at 15x18 and he says: ‘I have always wondered.... ever since I took that burden.... What my true happiness can even look like... Because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have’. SEE THESE WORDS HERE ARE WHY I CAN’T SLEEP AT NIGHT. BECAUSE THEY IMPLY at least to me THAT:
1. He was aware of his feelings, he knew what he felt was love at the time he took the deal. and after that he was like ‘I guess I am immortal now’ because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have so nothing else is going to make him truly happy; this also implies that there is only one thing he truly wants and the rest is just not that important, whatever else happens won’t make him happy which is heartbreaking;
2. He knew what he wanted, so this means that at some point he wondered, he imagined, he took his time to picture the ‘thing’ he wanted. Which is life with Dean. Because he is in love. LIKE HE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS, HE REALLY DID AND HE CONCLUDED THAT THIS IS OUT OF HIS REACH (now people argue if that is because he thinks it’s unrequited or because he thinks that something something hunter life-fighting all the time-no attachments lifestyle won’t allow them to have this sort of life - and frankly, knowing that he learned everything, or almost everything about emotions from Dean, who isn’t really good at them, I am not surprised if he is sure that this feeling is one-sided, because maybe he conquered his fears in the Empty the first time around but taking the deal must have made him anxious and Chuck still calls him self-hating so he probably thinks this is one-sided and he is unworthy of love anyway);
3. He tried to imagine different scenarios that would make him happy but eventually it all came down to That One True Scenario, out of his reach, that couldn’t compare with anything else, and he tells Jack - you know about that deal, it’s ok, I don’t see myself becoming happy anytime soon AND IT HURTSSS
so to conclude and tl;dr - I think Cas realized that what he was feeling was love after 12x12 although he felt it before but might have been confused by it. I do not think he was ~in love~ since 4x01. There was tension and there was pining but no. This feeling evolved, it didn’t *just* happen in the barn.
also i am so sorry this took so long but i have thoughts and feelings and can’t form a coherent sentence since november 5th anyway thanks for asking nonny, ily!!!!
#ask#asks#anon#long post#destiel is endgame#cas is in love#everything is beautiful but it hurts#spn 15x18#spn spec#spn speculation#Anonymous
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Painting (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}
Title: Painting
Rating: PG
Length: 2200
Warnings: Fluff (mild discussions of death)
Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here.Set in 1999. Did ya’ll miss me?
Summary: Reader and Javier paint Josie’s room.
@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme
“The new dresser should go over here,” Javier states, hands on his hips as he looked around the empty bedroom.
You stepped in close to Javier, wrapping your arms around his waist as you tilted your chin and looked up at him, “Hi.”
“Hi, baby.” Javier said with a warm grin, curling his hand around your hip. “I thought we were painting.”
“We are.” You gave his ass a playful squeeze before artfully pinching the pocket knife out for his back pocket. “I just needed this.” You flicked it open with your thumb and brandished it in front of him.
You stepped away from him, kneeling down by the gallon of paint, using the blade to pop open the can.
Javier chuckled and crouched down beside you, grabbing the plastic tray liner and fitting it into the metal paint tray. “Let’s hope JoJo likes this color choice this time.”
“Not wanting to paint for her a third time?” You teased lightly as you used the wooden stick to stir the paint, “It’s a little brighter than I expected.” You pursed your lips as you watched the paint drip back into the can off the stirrer.
Javier picked up the lid, flipping it over to compare the paint to the dried sample on the top. “I think it’ll look different once it goes up on the wall.”
“It’s a good color.” You were a little sad to see the dusty yellow walls go away. Javier had painted Josie’s room while you were pregnant with Sofía, while he was working on her nursery.
Sofia’s room was a cool sage green, not dissimilar from the colors that you’d used in Josie’s first nursery in Colombia. You preferred neutral colors that went with everything. But now that Josie was having sleepovers with school friends and not just the Murphy girls — she wanted something a little more exciting.
You were just glad you’d been able to talk her out of a Barney-purple into a nice shade of lavender. Josie had been a clever girl. She waited until she went to Home Depot alone with her father to talk him into repainting her bedroom. She was a big girl now, after all.
Of course Javier hadn’t been able to say no to her.
“Hopefully we won’t have to paint again.” Javier remarked as he slid the paint roller onto the handle. “At least until Sofía’s older.”
“I already told Josie she’s gonna have to wait until she’s sixteen.” You laughed, grabbing hold of the handle and tipping the paint into the pan.
Javier made a face as you looked up at him, “That’s still a long ways out.”
“Not really.” You pointed out, wiping the paint you got on your thumb onto your coveralls. “Blink and she’ll be graduating high school tomorrow.”
“Nope.” He shook his head, picking up the pan of paint and taking it over to the wall he was starting on. “She’s staying six forever.”
You rolled your eyes, “If only that were possible.” You poured paint into a smaller dish, grabbing the angled paint brush to work on the area around the windows. “Frankly, I’m looking forward to sixty-year-old Javier getting hit on at his daughter’s high school graduation, while he blubbers like a baby.”
“That’s an oddly specific fantasy, baby.”
“I have many.”
“Yeah?”
You hummed, “Some include the dramatic reveal where we’ve been married for a decade.”
Javier snorted, “Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t know,” You said as you dipped the brush into the paint, spreading some onto the wall around the window. “Maybe when Sofía’s sixteen and begging for a car, I’ll just tell her to go talk to my husband. Just let it settle.”
“I did have a dream once where I was telling Steve I was already married.”
“Was he offering?” You glanced back over your shoulder, smirking at his scandalized look. “What?”
“No.” Javier rolled his eyes, turning his back to you as he started rolling the paint out across the wall. “I don’t really remember why we were discussing marriage. Might’ve been one of his rants about bachelor parties.”
“Do you feel like you missed out on that?” You questioned, dipping your brush into the paint again.
“I think Steve feels like I have.” He huffed, “I might be a few years removed from college, but I think he’s projecting.”
“Of course he is.” You laughed. “I can’t imagine he had one when he and Connie got married.” You glanced back at him again. “Is this something the two of you discuss?”
He looked at you then, “Not really. We’ve had a couple conversations about it. Steve doesn’t get it.”
“I mean, Connie’s never really understood the choice either.” You shrugged, “Little do they know.”
“It still doesn’t feel real.” Javier admitted, loosely rolling the painting stick in his grip, before dipping it into the paint and rolling more out on the wall. “I sometimes wonder where I’d be.”
“If that night hadn’t happened?” You questioned, glancing back at him to see him nod. “Yeah. I think about it sometimes too.”
“Would we still be in Colombia?”
“Maybe.” You shrugged. “If that night hadn’t happened at all… If things hadn’t changed, I’d like to think we’d still be down there putting up with bullshit. But eventually, something would’ve happened.”
“Yeah.” Javier exhaled heavily. “I think I was running myself into the ground.”
“You were.” Your brows furrowed as you focused on painting the wall. “We both were. There’s only so long you can run from yourself.”
“Look at you, parroting Nancy.” Javier teased lightly.
You laughed softly, “I mean, she’s not wrong. I think we both hated who we became in Colombia.”
“Wasn’t my proudest version of myself.” He agreed with a short humourless laugh.
“What is your proudest version?” You questioned, wiping paint off on your coveralls.
“When I read the girls stories at night.” Javier answered without hesitation. “Yeah. It’s when I feel like I’ve made my parents proud. You know? Always wanted to make pops proud of me.”
“I know for a fact that he’s proud of you.” You told him, sitting your paint brush in the container and sitting it down on the floor.
“Yeah,” Javier muttered, keeping his focus on painting. “Don’t get me started on that.”
“Alright.” You conceded. You weren’t about to push the topic of Chucho.
During the holidays, after a long conversation about your father with Mitch, Chucho had broached the topic of what he wanted when he eventually died. Javier and Chucho had sat outside on the patio and shared a joint while they discussed everything.
There was nothing wrong with Chucho, but he wanted to be prepared like your father had. But Javier had carefully avoided any conversation that could circle back to that one.
You couldn’t blame him. Chucho had this sort of immortal spirit about him that seemed wrong to regard by mortal standards.
“You know,” You started, hands on your hips as you turned back to look at him. “That’s something you and I should probably think about too.”
“You’re wanting to talk about wills while we’re painting JoJo’s room?” Javier sat the roller in the tray and sat it down on the drop cloth carefully. “Cheery topic.”
“After what happened with Sofía—“
“You mean the worst fucking day of my life?” Javier held your gaze. “Going over things with the social worker was… something I’d rather forget.”
“I know.”
“I’ve seen you hooked up to shit in the hospital three times now.” Javier gritted out.
You nodded your head slowly, “Not looking to add to that number. But it is something we need to think about. I mean, fortunately we’re married now which gives us a little more control over things, but…”
“But I’m trying to paint my kid’s room.” He gave you a look. “And not plan our joint funeral.”
“At least we’re on the same page there.” You grinned. “Everyone always says they want their partner to move on, live their life, find love...”
Javier held your gaze, “I don’t know if I could do all of this without it you. I got too close to finding out.”
You stepped towards him, “Losing you is my one fear.”
Javier reached out and curled his hand around your hip, “Pops never could move on. I don’t think he even tried. We’re stubborn men.”
“Just how I like my Peña men.” You wound your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest. “I just want to make sure the girls are okay. I want them to have the best life possible.”
He kissed the top of your head, “They will, baby.” He assured you, rubbing his hand down the length of your back. “With both of us.”
You tilted your head to look up at him, a soft smile playing over your lips. “That is what I want.” You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, leaning up to press your lips to his. “You have paint in your hair.”
Javier gave your hip a squeeze, “I wonder where I got it from.” He grabbed your hand, holding it up and showing off the stripe of paint smeared along the side of your hand.
“It’s dry.” You retorted, twisting your wrist out of his hand sweeping your hand over his face. “Okay, I thought it was dry.” You tried not to laugh as you stared at the purple streak on his cheek.
Javier shook his head slowly, “Is this how it’s gonna go?”
“Maybe.” You smirked, walking towards the can of open paint and dipping the tips of your fingers into it. “Come here.
“Oh, no!” He laughed, taking a step back. “We are not doing this.”
“Come here!” You pursued him, wiggling your paint covered fingers at him. “I don’t want to get this on the floor.”
“There’s an easy way to keep that from happening.” Javier gave you a look, side stepping out of your reach, but laughing as you grabbed onto the back of his belt. “Come on, we’ve got painting to do.”
“Turn around then.” You urged, letting go of his belt so he could actually turn around. “You are no fun.” You taunted, painting your finger down the length of his nose.
He cocked his head to the side, “I’m very fun.”
“Are you?” You gave him a skeptical look. “I’ve seen your end of the year reviews, babe. I don’t think anyone has ever used fun to describe you.”
“That’s a low blow.” Javier wiped off some of the paint from his nose, smearing it over your forehead. “You and I seem to have plenty of fun in the bedroom, baby.”
You pursed your lips thoughtfully, “I suppose that’s true. You can be very fun behind closed doors.” You smeared paint down the length of his arm.
Javier moved swiftly, wrapping his arms around you and turning you in his hold to pin you to his chest. “Looks like you’ve got a little paint on you now.” He said lowly, rubbing the paint from his nose onto the crook of your neck.
You half-heartedly attempted to get out of his hold, before sinking back against his chest. “What a shame.” You laughed, reaching behind you to get ahold of his hair. “I wonder if paint washes off.”
“Ha.” He tightened his hold on you, “Lavender looks good on you.” He whispered close to your ear, “But it looks better on the wall.”
“Oh, fuck off.” You laughed, elbowing him in the ribs.
“The sooner we get the room painted, the sooner we can take advantage of an afternoon without the girls.”
“What are you thinking?” You questioned, tilting your head back to look at him. “A nap?”
Javier whistled, “Tempting.”
“Right?”
He loosened his hold on you so you could turn around to face him. “Yeah, actually.” Javier’s lips drew upwards are the corners as he met your eyes, “It would be a long overdue nap.”
You arched a playful brow, “What? Has Sofía been keeping you up too?”
Javier rolled his eyes, “Even JoJo wasn’t this clingy at two.”
“It’ll pass.” You shrugged. “I’m not looking to do the co-sleeping thing indefinitely.”
“She’s lucky she’s cute.” Javier folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head. “But I could do without the foot in my face every morning.”
“She sleeps like you.”
Javier scoffed, “Upside down with a foot in my face?”
“Constantly needing to touch who she’s sleeping next to.”
He rocked his jaw slowly before agreeing, “Yeah, I suppose I do sleep like that.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “It’s been a week.”
You gestured around the room, “And I’m hoping that with JoJo sleeping in Sof’s room for the next couple of nights, we might get our bed back.”
“Clever.”
“I have my moments.”
“You know these coveralls are doing it for me.” Javier remarked, plucking at the fabric at your waist.
“Oh, you poor sleep deprived man.” You gave his cheek a pat before stepping around him. “I’m flattered.”
“You should be.”
You shot him a look, “Paint.”
He grinned back at you.
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summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…
pairing: vampire!ravn x reader
genre: vampire!au, ANGST, romance, horror
warnings: awkward period mentions, kinkshaming, trespassing, kidnapping, hints of possessiveness, the usual werewolf wants a mate business, manipulation, gaslighting, cleithrophobia, rip y/n
word count: 2.5k
author’s note: im...genuinely so sorry
part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part eleven 🌙 part twelve 🌙 epilogue
It was a full moon and coincidentally, your moon days had recently arrived. Which usually didn’t bother you that much. But ever since you had started living with Ravn, ever since you had become his girlfriend, your red visitors were not welcome at all. For two very important reasons. One, he refused to touch you like that, because he didn’t want to harm you accidentally. Two, he refused to drink from you, because, yet again, he was putting your safety first. But of course, you couldn’t ignore his needs. You could tell that he was starving.
“Ravn…you should probably go hunting,” you suggested. You had noticed how he flinched every time you got close to him and he didn’t even kiss you, because he was afraid he’d lose all self-control. He looked so damn hungry and devastated that it was breaking your heart. You wanted to take care of him the way he was looking after you, but you knew he would never allow that. So, you proposed the one thing you could think of.
“And leave you here alone? Not a chance,” Ravn shook his head, though you could see how difficult it was for him to restrain his primal urges to feed.
“I could come with you,” you murmured.
“And watch me feed from something else? Not happening,” he scoffed.
You rolled your eyes.
“Come on, it can’t be that different from watching you feed from me,” you pointed out, thinking you were so smart.
“Oh, please,” Ravn laughed. “You rarely watch. You just close your eyes and enjoy it like the depraved little girl you are.”
“Don’t mock me!” you scolded him.
“I’m not,” he smiled sweetly and despite his hunger, Ravn caressed your cheek. “I would never.”
“You should seriously go hunt,” you advised him. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
“Really? You won’t disappear?”
“I would never,” you whispered softly, mimicking his words.
“Just promise me you’ll stay here. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
You gulped nervously, remembering the recent realization you’d had about your childhood friend turning out to be the very same werewolf who’d followed you a while ago.
“Everything will be okay, Ravn.”
He nodded, trying to reassure both you and himself.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.
“Be careful out there, yeah?” you felt inclined to say.
Ravn gave you a quick kiss and hurried towards the door.
You looked outside and noticed the full moon emerging from behind a cloud. You remembered reading stories about werewolves being stronger, more dangerous during a full moon. You desperately hoped Ravn wouldn’t run into Leedo during his hunt. He had seen particularly anxious to leave you alone. And you wondered if there was any truth to that myth. Or was he worried for another reason? Whatever the case, something bothered you and you couldn’t fall asleep despite the late hour. As you were tossing and turning, you heard a strange sound coming from the corridor. You pulled the blankets closer to your chin and held the fabric tightly. Had Ravn returned so soon? You thought hunting would take him longer. You wondered if you should get out of bed to greet him. If it was him at all. No, what was happening to you? Such foolish thoughts would only needlessly scare you and you would have nightmares. You got up from bed anyways and walked slowly into the corridor.
“Ravn?” you asked the darkness. But the darkness didn’t reply. “Is that you?”
Your voice quivered helplessly at that last part. Who else could it be? No one knew the exact location of Ravn’s castle. Sure, it was pretty close to the forest but it was hidden away by strong spells that made it extremely difficult to find by mortals. It had taken you some time to get used to it. You could now find your way back home easily. But to a stranger, it would be almost impossible. Almost.
Suddenly, you heard the strange noise again. This time it was coming closer. But you could see nothing. Nobody.
“Hello?” you inquired pointlessly. But no reply came. Just the same old darkness. And then, as quickly as you had gotten out of bed, you noticed two very familiar glowing yellow eyes staring right back at you. No. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a bad dream. You would wake up soon. No. The eyes were now closer, brighter, angrier. And you could only do so much as take a hesitant step back when the werewolf jumped at you.
🌙🌙🌙
You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar setting. A cold, damp floor under your legs. And darkness all around. The only thing you could discern was those cursed yellow eyes. You needed a moment to process. You were not dead. You were still breathing. Which meant that the werewolf…Leedo (you had to remind yourself) had not intended to harm you. Then, what did he want? And how had you ended up here? You realized that you had probably passed out from the sudden shock. You touched your arms, your legs and your face, as if to check you were still intact. Everything was, in fact, in order. Leedo had not harmed you physically. He’d just taken you to an unfamiliar place against your will. If that was the case, you could figure something out, come to an agreement of sorts.
“What do you want from me?” you asked directly. But of course, the werewolf couldn’t respond to you. Not in his animal form, at least. So, he simply growled in what could only be defined as a vaguely threatening but not murderous manner. You didn’t know much about wolves but you had to guess his intentions from the fact that you were not dead (yet). What could you do? Other than wait for the full moon to be over and for the werewolf to return to his human form. To Leedo. Your friend. God, how had you ended up in such a predicament? Your boyfriend was a vampire and your childhood best friend was a werewolf. You would have passed out again if you hadn’t previously had some time to deal with this information. You were too terrified to sleep. You had just gotten kidnapped. So, you just intended to wait for the morning to arrive and save you from the unknown.
🌙🌙🌙
Ravn’s POV
She had been right. I had been too freaking hungry to think straight. I was glad I went hunting. I should have done so earlier instead of risking hurting her accidentally. It would have been fatal. I cared for her more deeply than any other being I’d met during my immortal existence. If anything happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. So, when I returned to my home and didn’t find her peacefully sleeping in her bed, I started panicking rightaway. I checked the library, thinking she was probably there, reading something like the cute little book-lover she was. But no such luck. Then, I tried the kitchen, thinking she was just having a midnight snack. When I couldn’t find her in any of the rooms she would usually go to, I realized something must have gone terribly wrong. She wouldn’t go outside on her own. Not on a full moon. She had promised me. I returned to the first place I’d come looking for her – the bedroom. Then, back to the corridor...I sniffed the air and to my surprise, I caught an unfamiliar scent. A werewolf. No, it wasn’t possible. She would never invite him here, friends or not. Which could only mean one thing. He had taken her. Away from me. And he would pay for it.
🌙🌙🌙
I followed her scent, mixed with the werewolf’s, out of the castle. It was gradually becoming fainter. I couldn’t find her exact location and it was driving me insane. I needed to know where she was, whether she was safe. She wouldn’t do this to me, right? She wouldn’t leave without a word. Not after everything we’d been through. I had to trust her. I kept going after their trails down the road and near the river. But the minute my feet touched the cold water, the scent disappeared. Sneaky bastard. The werewolf had probably pushed them forward through the river on purpose so that I’d lose their track. I could go no further because I knew not where to go.
It suddenly hit me. Even though Seoho wanted to stay away from me for the time being, because he was fearful that Y/N would betray our secrets to the humans, he was the only one I could turn to. He was my best friend and I needed his help. He would know what to do. He could probably make a tracking spell. I’d give him an object of hers and he’d snap his magical fingers and we’d find them, right? That was the only way. I sighed and hurried out of the forest and towards the town where Seoho resided, a couple of miles from here. I could only pray that I would be fast enough. That I would get his help and that we’d manage to get to her before it was too late. If that damn werewolf hurt her…I would kill him and then, myself for letting it happen. Fuck. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. Leaving her alone to go hunting during a full moon. What was I thinking? She must have been so scared…My poor, brave girl. I would find her, I vowed to myself. No matter the consequences.
🌙🌙🌙
Reader’s POV
In the morning, you opened your eyes. Despite your terror, you had managed to get some sleep. Above you, you could faintly see a glimmer of light coming from a very strange hole on the roof of…whatever this was. But all around you, there were metal bars. And no key. Once the moon was no longer visible, you witnessed the impossible. Well, by now you were fairly convinced that the impossible was very much part of your reality. However, it was one thing suspecting that the werewolf who’d followed you was your best friend, Leedo. And it was another seeing his transformation for yourself. It was terrifying to look at and you couldn’t imagine how he felt actually experiencing it. You mentally scolded yourself. You weren’t supposed to pity him. He had kidnapped you. Taken you away from your boyfriend, from your home. Friend or not, Leedo no longer deserved your sympathy, you had to remind yourself. He was different from the kid you remembered and you had to make peace with that one way or another.
“Y/N, did I hurt you?” were Leedo’s first words once he had regained his human form.
Oh, great. He was concerned. How was that supposed to make you dislike him?
“Why am I here, Leedo?” you groaned, exasperated.
“You’re not surprised? That I am…well, you saw what I am.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I suspected it, to be honest,” you announced smugly. “Will you respond to my question?”
Leedo ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me,” you challenged him bravely.
“Listen…it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. But during the full moon, I have a hard time controlling my urges and…you’re already here so, I might as well…”
You blinked at him in confusion.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I think you’re my mate.”
“Duh, we’ve been friends since kids,” you replied.
“No, that’s not what I meant…To werewolves, having a mate is different than having a friend. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t underestimate my intelligence, Leedo,” you scoffed.
“Okay, then,” he laughed. “It means you’re my soulmate. That the moon destined us to be together. That…I want, no, I need to make you mine.”
Oh, God. He’d really lost his mind, huh?
“First of all, I don’t believe in destiny,” you snapped at him. “We choose who to be with. Second of all, do you really think kidnapping me is the right way to make me…I can’t even say it,” you hissed angrily. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
Leedo nodded sadly.
“I know it’s a lot to process…”
“No, it’s not. You’re just delusional.”
“Listen…I don’t know what that boyfriend of yours brainwashed you but whatever lies he’s been feeding you, forget about it.”
Oh, you wished you could laugh at the irony, but it was impossible, because you couldn’t risk exposing your boyfriend’s secret. Leedo had it all wrong. Instead of lies, you had been feeding Ravn something else.
“You don’t even know him,” you said through clenched teeth.
“I know enough,” Leedo replied. “I could smell death all over that castle of his. He’s a vampire, isn’t he?”
You stood, completely wide-eyed and speechless. How had he figured it out so quickly? The same way Ravn had known Leedo was a werewolf, perhaps. Maybe supernatural creatures had a special way of spotting or sensing other beings, that was the only explanation. In any case, you could neither confirm it, nor deny it. If you lied, Leedo would see right through you, you were such a terrible liar. If you said the truth, you would be betraying your boyfriend’s secret. So, you just remained silent.
“I knew it,” Leedo continued. “Did he drink from you? Did you know that vampires’ fangs have a venom that’s capable of controlling humans? Whatever he made you do, it’s not real. He took away your free will, Y/N. And you accuse me of kidnapping you,” he shook his head as if it was funny.
You had not, in fact, known that. It wasn’t in any of the books you’d read on vampires. And Ravn had never mentioned it. Could you really believe Leedo? Whatever he said, you didn’t care. Ravn had never treated you with anything other than respect and utmost care. He wasn’t the villain in your story. He had never made you do anything against your will. And you loved him.
“He did no such thing!” you shouted passionately, completely forgetting about the fact Ravn’s secret was now exposed and transfixed by the idea to defend his virtue. “I stayed with him out of my own free will, because my parents were assholes who loved money more than they ever loved me!”
“You don’t have to stay with him anymore,” Leedo said. “You can stay with me.”
“In this cold, damp place in the middle of nowhere?” you spat out sarcastically. “I’d rather die!”
“Don’t say that,” Leedo grabbed your arms and you tried to push him away but he was too strong. “I can make you happy.”
You began shaking.
“Don’t you see you’re scaring me?” you whimpered. You were trapped. You were so far away from home and you couldn’t escape. You wanted out. You felt as if you were suffocating. “Please, Leedo, you have to let me go. If you ever cared for me, you’ll let me go…”
“I can’t,” he let go of your arms but took a step back, as if to remind you of the situation you were in. You were suddenly very aware of the metal bars surrounding you like a cage. You were the bird and your wings had been clipped.
“I will never love you the way you want me to,” you vowed, tears of frustration and fear falling down your cheeks.
“Give it time,” Leedo smirked. “You’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
To be continued…
#oneus#ravn#ravn x reader#twilight#oneus fanfic#kim youngjo#leedo#ravn angst#romance#vampire au#vampires#writing
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Sunday Batfam Fanfic Recs!
Today I got some painful fanfics for you! 27 ones to be precise! Have fun! Cry a lot and leave these authors many tearful comments!
I’m a little busy right now, which is why I didn’t do any fanfic rec lists in the last weeks, but I’m trying to get back on schedule!
Title: (re)incarnation
Summary: "Shut up," one of the men hissed. "Do you want a beating, brat?" "No," Dick said. "But maybe I deserve one. I mean, you did just shoot a kid like he deserved it. How should I know what I deserve?" "Shut up, or you might just end up deserving one," the other guy snapped.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044062
Title: Anathema
Summary: When a new crime lord in Gotham gets the upper hand, Red Hood and Batman are dealt crippling blows. When faced with near death and an inability to hide behind their masks in the weeks after, Jason and Bruce have to deal with some old haunts between them.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604273
Title: An Act of Mercy
Summary: "You're gonna be okay," Tim keeps saying. "I'm here. We're almost home. You're gonna be okay." Or, that time Bruce gets hit with Fear Toxin.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036840
Title: Break
Summary: In which Jason is dead and Dick has reached his breaking point.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496762
Title: Frightening but not afraid
Summary: When the family is hit by a new strain of fear toxin, safety is in numbers. Unfortunately, three members of the flock are still out there, afraid and alone. Bruce may not be the best at comforting his children, but apparently, he can let his wings do the talking
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120557
Title: goodnight, gotham
Summary: In the wake of shooting penguin, Jason Todd's world is torn to shreds. And perhaps found again.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572116
Title: I survived (but I paid for it)
Summary: sometimes, the only way to survive is to go numb.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418752
Title: I’m in paradise with Dad
Summary: Jason dies in Bruce's arms rather than before he gets there. It messes some things (and people) up
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/711570
Title: I’m just fine
Summary: After rescuing a group of children (including himself) from being kidnapped and sustaining injuries in the process, Tim has difficulty thinking about anything except his guilt over what he could have done better. Based on a story from the comics.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935299
Title: Like Any Other Kid
Summary: Damian's had nightmares every night since he was resurrected and has refused to tell anyone about them until now. Tired of dealing with them, he does what any other kid would do and joins his father in bed.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588219
Title: Liminal Spaces
Summary: Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension. Or: When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414078
Title: little misunderstandings
Summary: Bruce has heard that line hundreds of times, mostly in his own thoughts, when he sets his eyes on the clown. Clark was the one to tell him first. He would have done it. He's known for years that those words were the only thing that kept his one rule intact. Unfortunately, they are a lie.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506059
Title: More Like a Nightmare
Summary: The criminals in Gotham are gross. Stephanie knows this. Stephanie had a bad childhood. Bruce knows this. One patrol, these two facts come together.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374331
Title: No Silver Bullet
Summary: Everyone knows Batman's origin story. Everyone has heard about Bruce Wayne's tragic past, and his orphaning. It's also common knowledge that Batman doesn't like guns. However, Bruce's PTSD and triggering because of guns isn't often explored... Here are five times that Bruce was triggered, and one time something was different.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633273
Title: Of Gunshots and being Enough
Summary: Stephanie Brown is Robin, but no one seems to believe it.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056402
Title: Papercuts
Summary: They've always said that lies hurt the ones you love the most. None of Bruce's children had any idea how important it was for him to know the truth.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895134
Title: Tell-tale
Summary: " 'Hey,' Jason calls, and Tim turns around with a start. Looks surprised he’s been addressed at all. And Jason says, 'You tell ‘im, Babybird. He feels guilty he doesn’t love you.' " Or, the kids compete to see who should give Bruce bad news. But Jason doesn't take Tim and Bruce's fractured relationship into account.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/697095
Title: This distance between us
Summary: He wondered where Jason was right now, what he was doing. Probably sleeping, he hoped. Yes, that was it. Fast asleep in his apartment, probably wrapped up like a turtle in the covers. Drooling on his pillow. Blissfully dreaming of muscle cars and guns, or whatever it was teenagers dreamed of. Even though he was twenty now, and not a teenager anymore. Or, Bruce deals with some late-night drasticizing and reacts like a traumatized father of a dead son would.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749808
Title: the blood stuck beneath his fingernails
Summary: Jason is alive- he knows he's alive- but the dreams of the damned, of the dead, drive him near insanity. Luckily, he has people who care for him and motivate him to move forward from the deep melancholy he so often gravitates towards. Features talks with his annoying older brother, his awkward dad, a few mental breakdowns, and the constant wonderings of which gods set Jason up on this path.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441537
Title: the bridge to nowhere
Summary: Jason and Bruce take care of an injured Damian. It forces Jason to reflect on some... unpleasant things.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239213
Title: The Jason Project
Summary: Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899613
Title: Ugly memories in third person
Summary: “Cover your drink.”[Damian's words have consequences and Bruce's mind is not the bomb-proofed system of boxes and compartments he forces himself to believe it is.]
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301352
Title: Unravel
Summary: He doesn’t notice it at first. He’s too happy. He’s back. For good, now. Damian’s alive, and talking to him. Jason and Tim are mad at him for a little while, but they both start talking to him soon enough, too. Cass gives him smiles and hugs, and she lets him kiss her cheek occasionally. So, yeah. He’s too caught up in his family to notice what’s happening at first. In which Dick's trauma catches up to him before he's ready.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/822048
Title: Used to the Darkness
Summary: “I’m not there,” he said, trying not to sob. “I’m not in my grave, I’m not in the ground.” “I know,” Bruce whispered, bringing Jason’s hand to his lips. “I’m not Icarus or Ophelia.” Jason’s voice grew louder in an attempt to reach that hidden part of Bruce. “I’m not my death. I’m not a tragedy.” ~ Wherein death is haunting and love is painful.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921330
Title: What Possesses You
Summary: He knew Bruce was eyeing him, surely assessing what his son’s young, unchanging face implied. Jason wanted, desperately, to look back and see that stony face. He wanted to know what lied behind those eyes when Bruce realized that he hadn’t aged a day.~ Immortality is a curse that few can bear
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852552
Title: when you coming home
Summary: Dick speaks to his father after five long years.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307529
Title: whip-poor-will she sings
Summary: What if Jack's emotional abuse of Tim took a more physical turn?
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536047
#dc#dc comics#batman#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#stephanie brown#batfamrecs
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Tongue Tied (Loki x reader)
A/N: My first request! *heart eyes*
Fun Fact: I’m actually super fucking kinky and i couldn’t pass up the chance to write some *light* bondage. Also i was just reading Bucky smut so writing this gave me writers whiplash (i’m making this a thing if its not one already). After writing this I’m gonna be working on part 3 to the dream series! so make sure you let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!
Requested by @alorev
Hey babe!!!!! I loved your new fix so damn much that I had to send in a request to be able to sleep at night. I was thinking of how a talk with Loki about him tying you up for the first time would go 🤔 and what would happen afterward 👀 completely up to you what you’d like to do, I’m sure I’ll love it no matter what. I hope you have a great day 💕💖💓💞💗💘❤️
Warnings: Smut, smut, and more smut, oral (fem receiving), light bondage, i didn't proof read because its 2:15 in the morning and im gonna be dead at work tomorrow im sorry
word count:2000 (it was 1998 but i literally went and added two random words to make it even)
You had spent the entire morning with Pepper, Wanda, Hope and Nat. The day had innocently started out as girl bonding time, but after polishing off nearly two entire bottles of wine and Hope asking Wanda about her and Vision’s sex life it quickly escalated into a smutty conversation. Girlish giggles echoed around the Compound’s living room mixed with hushed whispers in an attempt to shield to topic of conversation from any possible eavesdropper.
“So what about you? What the kinkiest thing you and Loki have done?” You felt all eyes turn to you as Nat spoke. The warmth blooming on your cheeks quickly spread down your neck and crawled across your chest. Your eyes were probably bulging out of your head. You had been absolutely fine with the topic until it became about you, suddenly feeling very vanilla compared to some of the things the other women had spoke of. Not that you weren't aware of the filthy things that ran through your lovers mind, he was the almighty mischievous god after all. You knew he wanted to do more in the bedroom but you also knew that he wouldn’t, in fear of scaring you away and the thought of losing control and possibly hurting you terrified him. Once he wed you, and you had the ceremony in which you ingested the golden apple, rendering you asgardian and also immortal, he would stop treating you like a porcelain doll - at least you hoped he would.
“w-well i call him ‘my king’ sometimes..” you replied innocently, chewing on your bottom lip.
They all just stared at you as if waiting for you to continue but after a moment Pepper cleared her throat before speaking.
“I can’t believe I’m about to ask this but you mean to tell me that the occasional use of nicknames is the kinkiest thing you and your fiance of 2 years have done?”
You pouted at that, she was right, you should’ve done more.. you wanted more, you just didn't know how to ask for it. You always felt awkward discussing such sensitive matters with him because he spoke with such grace and confidence and you stuttered and turned into a blushing mess.
“I don’t know how to tell him I want more”
Grins collectively broke out across the circle you had been sitting in as you mumbled those words.
“you don’t tell him” started Wanda looking over a Nat with a plan forming in her brain.
“you show him” Natasha finished an evil smirk plastered across her face.
_
After about 20 minutes of persuasion, 30 minutes of you complaining, 25 of Wanda and Nat digging through Peppers humongous wardrobe, and 15 of obtaining the materials needed for their scheme you were now sitting on the bathroom sink. Wanda was standing between your legs with a makeup brush dusting over your eyelids. Peppers fingers fussing around with your hair, trying to make it ‘voluminous’ and ‘sexy’ in her words. Hope had been standing by the door keeping watch, while Nat prepared everything. After a few more strokes of her brush, Wanda took a step back to admire her work.
“damn I’m good” she said with a giggle. Pepper hummed in agreement as she also finished her work with your hair.
“Alright now get dressed” Wanda said with a wink, before her and pepped slipped out of the bathroom. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror and your jaw dropped, you looked like you belonged on the cover of Maxim or something. Wanda had given you a smoldering black smokey eye and a nude lip, your hair was curled and very ‘voluminous’ indeed. You looked over at the outfit, if you could even call it that, resting on the sink. It was nothing like you had ever worn before. The silky emerald corset had a delicate sweetheart neckline, intricate black lace patterns splayed purposefully across the fabric, thick black ribbons lacing up the back, a simple pair of plain black lace panties, and matching black stockings attached to the garter straps. Surely Loki would melt at the sight of you dressed so naughtily while in his colors - that was the plan after all. After struggling for a few minutes you finally managed to finish dressing yourself, admiring how you looked in the gorgeous silky deep green fabric. You stepped out to see Nat finishing up and the rest of the girls sitting on the sofa at the end of your bed. The all started whistling and clapping when you fully revealed yourself, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, a shy grin upon your lips.
“I think our work here is just about done girls.” Pepper said while beaming proudly at their work.
“Just gotta get your god in here” Hope chuckled.
“FRIDAY can you please have Loki make his way to our room, tell him I need to have words with him” You said before exhaling a shaky breath.
“Right away Miss” the AI responded.
The girls wished you good luck sending winks and smirks at you before making their way out of the room. You looked around trying to figure out how to position yourself but decided to take a leap. You slowly crouched down to the floor, kneeling and placing your hands on your thighs facing upwards. You bowed your head as you heard his quickened footsteps approach your shared room. The door flew open and you saw his feet as they stepped into the room.
“Is everything alright darli-” He cut himself off with a soft gasp at the sight before him. You looked absolutely divine. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look up at him, hoping he would catch on. He did indeed catch on. He quickly shut the door behind him moving closer to your submissive figure.
“Look at me pet”
You slowly raised your eyes, fluttering your lashes and hoping to look as innocent as possible. Your innocence had always been somewhat of a drug to him, he found it to be simply intoxicating. You were strong, brave, sharp-tongued, and quick witted but when not on the battlefield he often compared you to a kitten.
“Not that I’m complaining in the slightest but are you up to you little minx?” His eyes were clouded with lust but the subtle hint of curiosity in them did not go unnoticed by you.
“I want all of you my king. I want you to stop holding back” You meant for it to sound confident and sexy but instead it came out as almost a whimper. You were already soaking wet at the thought of the events that were about to take place.
His eyes left you for a moment before scanning the room, noticing Natasha’s handiwork. A stifled groan erupted in his throat as he looked over the ropes that were expertly tied to your headboard, loops for your wrists and ankles set up so all he would have to do is tighten them.
“You wish for me to tie you up? You want to surrender yourself to me completely?” he asked almost sounding surprised.
“I wish for you to do whatever you please with me, my king” this time you succeeded in sounding lustful.
He hesitated no longer, stepping forward he placed his finger under your chin tilting it up so you were forced to look at him.
“shut your eyes pet” You felt your eyelashes brush against the tops of your cheeks as you obediently did as you were told. You were hyper-aware of his magic surrounding you, feeling it crawl over your exposed skin leaving a dull tingling feeling in its wake. You felt your soft bed sheets underneath you, meaning he had used his magic to move you. He pressed a hand lightly to your shoulder, guiding you backwards so you were lying down. He gently grasped your wrist slipping it into the loop and tugging until it was secure, doing the same with your other wrist, and your two ankles.
“how does that feel my love? too tight? not tight enough?” You could hear the genuine caution laced within his tone.
“m’feels good” you mewled, loving the feeling of being so constricted and exposed yet so safe and comfortable. He chuckled darkly at that, watching as you squirmed and tugged on the ropes as if to assess their strength, eyes still obediently shut. Deciding that he just couldn’t wait any longer, he stepped forward before kneeling on the bed between your spread legs. He crawled his way up your body stopping once his mouth reached the tops of your thighs, just above your stockings, his warm breath spreading over your skin. He lowered his mouth allowing his lips to brush against you before attaching them and sucking at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. The sounds that you made from that action alone had his cock throbbing in his pants, painfully straining against the fabric of is briefs. He placed sloppy kisses all the way up until he reached your clothed heat. He lightly brushed his fingers over the lacy fabric before it disappeared in a green flash. He licked his lips hungrily before he placed a kiss to your swollen bud, tongue darting out almost immediately after. Your moans were echoing around your shared room, as he swirled and flicked his tongue skillfully. You tugged at the restraints wanting so desperately to clench your thighs and grab fistfuls of his silky black hair. He noticed your breathing quicken, your moans turning into high pitched whines of pleasure, you were nearing your end - so he stopped. Pulling away with a smack of his lips he began to discard his own garments. You having your orgasm so rudely ripped away from you had you mewling, whimpering and shaking because god you just needed that release. You knew better than to question him, he was never one to deny you pleasure, he just loved the way your brows would crease, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape, eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body trembling in ecstasy. You knew you would get to have a glorious orgasm that only he could supply you, and when you felt his presence hovering over you, you knew it wouldn't be long until you did.
“open your eyes darling, i want you to look at me” his voice was strained but still dominant, which of course left you responding to his command instantaneously. You slowly blinked your eyes open meeting his deep emerald green ones. You gave him a soft smile, which quickly turned into your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheathed himself fully inside of you. He wasted no time in finding a devastating rhythm, pounding into you with precision behind every thrust. His fingers sliding down past your clit to gather your wetness before rubbing your bud with the perfect amount of pressure, not too much and not too little. You were right back to the brink of your orgasm and this time he only sped up his movements to help toss you over that edge. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, screaming his name like is was a prayer on your sinful lips. His thrusts didn't falter, he maintained his relentless pace as he chased his own high. You murmured sweet praises into his ear as he slammed himself into you one final time, his hot seed coating your walls. He steadied himself for a moment, sucking air into his lungs before flicking his wrist haphazardly, enchanting the ropes around your limbs to release you from their hold and the corset you were sporting had also disappeared. He fell to your side, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around your damp body. He placed a sleepy kiss to your forehead whispering how much he adored you and how he couldn't wait to make you his for eternity.
A/N: I know I changed it just a tiny bit but i hope you still enjoyed it! I literally went out and bought a new laptop so i could type my smut faster.... i’ve really gotta stop impulse buying things. Anyways please let me know what you think as your feedback is always greatly appreciated!
TAGLIST:
@spookyanairwin @aar-journey @kweenmarvel @iamverity @cora-notoverloki @stfxlou @nerdy-jelly-art @rosesistine @marvelfansworld @spidey-mads
#loki#loki x you#loki smut#loki x reader#loki laufeyson#avengers imagine#marvel imagine#avengers smut#marvel smut#loki imagine
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The Flower Prince
Warnings: Age-gap relationships: Patton is an immortal
Ship: Logicality
Plot: Logan’s garden had never really taken to growing flowers before, so it comes as a surprise when he wakes up to it teeming with life.
There are three things in life that Logan is completely sure of: The first is that logic is always sound, the second is that nothing is better than a good cup of coffee, the third is that a garden of flowers does not grow overnight. And yet, as he blinks in exhaustion at the sight, two of those things are not quite feeling so sure.
He makes himself a cup of coffee to affirm that at least one of these things.
The ebony haired man sits on his doorstep, staring at what had initially been a quite barren wasteland of a garden, he wasn’t even sure the soil could sustain any form of life. Bringing the cup of coffee too his lips, he takes into account the variety of flowers, flowers that shouldn’t even be able to sustain themselves in this climate and leans his head against the door.
Logan Sanders was sure of at least one thing right now, two if you count the coffee, he was very confused. This was not logical at all, this was so far outside of his logical explanations for everything that he’d deem it surreal, should his head stop hurting and the cognitive dysfunction cease. Finally, he rests the cup of coffee on the step, running out of words, he simply says “What, the fuck,”
He tries to continue with his day but the flowers are really doing his head in, were they put there? Who put them there? Where could they have come from? There were many questions he simply could not answer, but the flowers are nice to look at. Around midday, when he’s sat outside, eating lunch with a thoughtful expression, he swears he hears a laugh. Blinking through wide cerulean eyes, Logan searches for the source with a mouthful of cheese and lettuce. Chewing slowly he stands up and walks towards the flowers, were the flowers whispering or was it his imagination?
He’s starting to wonder if he had been asleep, or if he’d swapped his usual cup of coffee for straight absinth before a tap on his shoulder causes him to cry out in shock.
A man.
Probably.
Logan takes a second to recover and then another to analyse the strange creature, who had at least the body shape of a man. Wearing a pastel blue polo shirt and a long flowing skirt decorated with pink flowers. Vines crawled up the man’s arms, and flowers bloomed around his head as petals fell to the bounce of his excitement. If the flowers were indeed growing out of his skull, then Logan would recommend a hospital appointment. However, the blue freckles decorating pale skin and pink eyes just a little too wide, teeth just a little too pointed, tells Logan that perhaps this is way out of the way of his logical reasoning.
In his very expanded and large vocabulary, Logan could only manage out a “what?” as he stares at the creature. He giggles in response and takes Logan’s hand.
“Did you like the flowers? Your garden looked so bare, it made me sad, so I gave it life!” Logan gets his confirmation on whether the flowers are growing out of the stranger, when one blooms where his skin meets Logan’s, he detaches it and hands it over. “I’m Patton!” Patton’s voice is full of energy and awe and...happiness. It confuses Logan and he’s got many questions that he just can’t find the words too. “I’m a Spring Fairy, but I’m also known as The Flower Prince,”
He’s either dreaming or very drunk, Logan decides as words again, die on his lips, before he finally says “Impossible,” the flower wilts in his hand and Patton pouts, arms folding across his chest “The Fae are simply a myth, you can’t exist, it doesn’t...make sense,” The dead flower drops from his hand and he steps back. Patton knows fear on a Human, he can smell it. A sigh escapes him in a dramatic fashion.
“Well of course it makes sense, someone has to keep all the science in check! Otherwise there would be destabilizations everywhere, not that Humans are helping, throwing plastic into the seas and cutting down all our trees! Since you invented technology all you’ve done is destroy our work with it!” A displeased noise wracks his small body, his skirt flowing with his movements. “And now you’re telling me I don’t make sense! How rude! I make a lot of sense thank you very much, you just aren’t keeping up!”
Logan can’t quite fault him at that, he really isn’t keeping up. Yesterday he didn’t have flowers and today he’s pissed off a Fae Prince. It’s a series of mishaps that seem to be occurring to him these past couple of days. “Sorry,” he finally says, still trying to compute the mere existence of the fairy.
“Apology accepted,” And then he’s smiling again, his teeth are as sharp as needles, but it’s somehow an attractive look on someone with Ivy climbing up their arms and flowers growing out of their skull. “Do you like the flowers?”
“They’re very nice,” He sighs and rubs his temple “A lot to compute but very nice,”
“It is Human custom to give someone they like flowers, yes?” The Fae Prince continues, eyelashes fluttering “My friend Roman said that Humans give each other flowers as a symbol of friendship or romance, sometimes if they want to mate with them,” He can at least understand where Patton had gone wrong. He flushes a little red nonetheless.
“Usually a bouquet or potted plant, but a garden works too,” He strains to not laugh, this entire situation was just a little bit ridiculous and he really does not want to try and read in between the lines of Patton’s statement there.
“Good.” is the hummed response he got “You’re very pretty Logan, I see you every morning on my rounds, your house is at the exact midpoint between the Summer Fae castle and the Spring Fae castle, you’re always getting the post at the exact same time, so I thought I would give you some flowers, because you’re pretty and I want to be your friend!” It feels like there’s more to this that he’s not being told, and in the myths Fae were always described as tricksy, omitting the truth.
But Patton is quite pretty too.
“Very few people want to be my friend,” He sighs as he sits down on his doorstep, resting the cup of coffee on the ground, Patton sits next to him and Logan notes his feet are bare, yet there’s not a scratch on them. He swears the other looks a little gobsmacked “Or finds me pretty for that matter,”
“Well, I think you’re very pretty,” Patton hums “And I never lie! Only dance around the truth most of the time,” Well, he’s honest at best. “If you were a Fae you’d be wilting by now, all this brickwork and not enough trees, maybe I should’ve given you a tree,”
“No, no the flowers...they’re just fine thank you very much,” Logan scrambles before the creature can summon a tree in his front garden, there’s already enough to tend too without apple picking. “They’re very colorful, but I don’t think some of these species can survive in this climate,” He looks at the many kinds and shapes and shades, neatly arranged in rows.
“They will find their way,” Is the mysterious response he gets. Patton rests his head on Logan’s shoulder, the Human can’t help but tense a little, but he relaxes as the strange young man nuzzles against him, practically purring. Well, something that adorable should not only be illegal but can’t be all that bad, right?
The fae sits up and glances at the sun with a sigh “I must go now, but I’m glad you enjoy your garden, Logan,” He leans forward and presses a kiss to the Human’s lips, feeling him blush underneath his fingertips. Logan watches him stand with a dumbstruck expression, his feet padding against the ground as two light blue wings unfurl.
“Wait...” Patton turns, eyebrows raised “How did you know my name?” He gets a quite giggle in response before the wings flutter and Patton is gone. “And will I see you again?” He whispers to the air, staring at the flowers for a moment before he knows, he most likely will be.
--
Taglist:
@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey // @aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife // @heck-im-lost//@k9cat//@stilljittery//@romansleftshoulderpad// @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired //@therealmoshar// @punsterterry // @trashypansexual// //@demigodnamedathena//@sevencrashing// @misunderstood-shadow//@aphriteblack//@jemthebookworm//@sandersandthesides//@penguinkool//@georganabanana// @importantrunawaystudentstuff // @ao-koshka// @dangerous-doodle // @river-waterfall // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts// @wxlcomxtothxjunglx //@marshmallow-the-panda// @flix-net
--
Ko-Fi
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Dungeons and Dragons Loneliness
Another interview with lofi music. Today was a pretty shitty day, alot on my mind. Here to unload.
Today’s mood: Fuck it all...
It’s a mad addiction, a horrendous one. It’s all I think about, it’s all I want to talk about. Or almost anything fantasy related. I’ve recently gotten a little closer with one of my co workers. Delerner Banks, everyone calls him Del. He’s always in the tunnel, and always brings warhammer books to read and do work (whatever it is he’s working on.) We talk about fantasy related things all the time, and sometimes we bounce ideas off each other, feeling out our thoughts of settings and lore. Talking to him about some fantasy before leaving work made me feel alot better. The loneliness inside has been eating at me.
I know it’s salt, I know its jealousy, that I’m mad at my friends. They been hanging out more without me, playing cards and shit. Its not a passion of mine, its fun sometimes, but its still not me. Its what they bond over, its what they do together, and that’s what theyre into. If I had to guess, they’re okay with Dungeons and Dragons, but even my best friend said that I take it too serious. Its fallen out of their favor, it eats up a lot of time, and they each have their version of what a fun campaign would be like. In me, I said to myself, “Fine, fuck it. I’ll have to assemble another crew to play with.” Tough situation then isn’t it? Wanting to play a social game that needs bodies, during an age where social gatherings are frowned upon, because they carry a potential to spread a virus... Still, this is what I want to do. I want a group of friends, who share the same passion I do. My current friends must think ill of me, they may just want to hang out. They think that if they come hang with me, I’ll want a game of DnD without a doubt. They just want to chill and kick it, they don’t want to roll dice. But ask me once and I’ll tell you yes twice, to playing DnD.
I love it with all my heart, all of the contents and materials are here, ready to play. No extra investments, no money needed to be spent, we can get going off of nothing like we did back then. A table top roleplaying game, we started with cardboard and lego figures, and just two books to share. But there was fun to be had, and a few heated sessions. But fun it was, the more we played the deeper i grew fond of the game. I’m even willing to experiment with other systems if I have someone to guide me. With cards, you gotta constantly update your arsenal to keep up with the meta, and let’s be real, not playing anything remotely close to meta isn’t as fun. Different formats allow different decks, and to keep current you gotta keep up. I dont have the fundings for it, I dont have the luck. I would rather buy a module that’ll last for years, versus a pack of cards. I have two books that have skyrocketed in value, cards go up and down like stocks. But thats the appeal I suppose, I don’t care for it though.
Back to the thing at hand, I’m in their group chat as they make plans. I can’t be there for all that. But fuck it, that’s all Im going to say. Fuck it, on repeat, until its engraved into my head. Pride is getting the best of me, I refused to be denied again. If it’s not something they want to do, so be it, I need to look out for me in the end. I must muster up the courage to start playing online again, the first one wasn’t bad, but it fell apart. I need to get the courage to be social, and get over the fear that everyone expects you to be a pro player. I’m scared going into this green still, roll20 isn’t my forte. But if I want to play DnD, this seems to be my only option. It may fulfill my wish, to find friends who are just as passionate as I. My other friends, they’re over on the other side. Its fine, it truly is, they have one another, and I need to be strong. I need to find the strength in this loneliness, even though its tearing me apart. My circle becomes smaller, thats just the way of the world. Adapt to survive, be formless like water...
Dungeons and Dragons, my greatest escape. I can be anybody, and do things I normally can’t. I can clobber up bad guys, indecent folk, and finesse my way out of punishment from the law. I can save a village, a town, a kingdom, when I can hardly save myself. I can fly, cast spells, break locks, imagination is my only limit. I can hoard and amass vast amounts of riches, I myself can even become a dragon. I don’t have to be me, although a bit of me resides in everyone I’ve made before. I can never truly separate myself, from those Ive breathed life into. For hours on end, I can go anywhere, do anything, I melt into the world thats placed before me.
Because the reality is that I’m practically shit, and nobody. The world is fucked up and jacked up and spiraling down the drain. I’m mentally fucked and my physicality is pretty much the same. I’m stuck in place when the world is demanding me to change. I lost with no real direction. No map in hand, no guide, and I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t know whether to trust the process or commit suicide. Im not sure where I’ll end up, if it’s good or bad. Im struggling, I’m suffering, and there seems to be no end. I could say I’m trying, but I would be lying, if I had to look at the brighter side. The positive things in life are so hard to identify. But my emotions are raw and hit hard, slamming against the walls in my skull. Demanding me to give them attention...and attention I give them, as they tear me up. Like being pulled at by the limbs, drawn and quartered is the method it seems like today. I was thinking that I couldn’t drink forever, my body would eventually reject. But what if I drank energy drinks on end, a heart attack to get me out of this place. I can down those all day long, so whats stopping me from taking that way out of it? Less grotesque and violent, it’ll probably be painful as hell. An organ seizing up, as the body ceases the function. I get said thinking about it sometimes, but one day, enough will be enough. But damn that lady...damn her for speaking those words... Tomorrow. If nothing is better by tomorrow, then do as you may. But sleep it off, tomorrow is another day.
It’s not verbatim, but its the gist. Just wait for tomorrow, and hopefully things will change. The choice is still mine to make, and something in me pushes me forward, keeps me going on. Sometimes I think about who I’m leaving behind, and maybe how much it’ll hurt. The evil darkness inside me says that they’ll get over it, they have to, and time doesn’t wait. I won’t be immortalized, I’ll simply end up a statistic. That maybe itll be a few years the sadness remains fresh, but wounds always heal. Discrediting my actual existence, and any form of relations. Like I wouldn’t have made any actual impressions, people don’t weep for me now. People kind of forget I exist already, what makes me think they won’t after I’m gone?
I think about my folks, my grandma, my girlfriend, my second family, and other close dear friends. I think about how many last will letters I would have to put out there, before I call for the curtains. Sometimes, I say I will start writing them, but they give me pause. I end up not wanting to leave this world, after pouring out my heart. Because I don’t want to leave any questions behind for people who matter, I want them to know how I felt before I passed. I want to leave with them apart of me, so they would never forget.
Still it doesn’t change, shit is rough as of lately, work has been eating me up. I feel like Im never hundred percent, and me back on gaming is making it worst. I’ve gotten back onto Elder Scrolls Skyrim, its been my virtual version of DnD. Waiting for the Outer World Expansion, so I can get addicted to that again. All I want to do is play Dungeons and Dragons, the question is how do I make that into a living? I think being a Matthew Mercer is one in a million, I don’t think I’m that great. I’m willing to learn, grow, evolve because it is my passion, but I’m always scared of making mistakes. To be one of the greater Dungeon Masters, to be THE Wizards of the Coast Dungeon Master, it may possibly be the dream. To eat, sleep, breathe, Dee en Dee. My obsession isn’t that crazy though, I’m still behind on the lore of creatures and settings, I haven’t studied at all. But with the right drive and motivation, I would, especially with something as real as a legit group.
Enthusiastic players, who show up every week, bi weekly, once every month even, to play this fantastic game. Group of chill folks who is willing to take the Dungeon Master Mantle with I get burned out and have the desire to be in the player seat. One of those is the driving force, they make me want to plan. They make me want to make the world, the style, everything in general better, with the constructive feedback. I mean it’s been so long as I was a player in a campaign until the end, I’m beginning to think paying for a Dungeon Master wouldn’t be so bad. Once a month? A couple of hours? I mean I’m thinking like seven USD per hour? Eight isn’t bad, but after that it becomes a questionable amount. It repeats in my head, “No DnD is better than Bad DnD”, this much is probably still true. I say still because I still might want at least one session with said game, so I can at least say it was the worst after having attempt it, rolling something. Ha ha, I kid myself, I’m lying because I know the rage would be all to real and caution is my game most of the time. But I mean, I just might have to start exploring the idea, I was definitely going to ask on FaceBook if any Roll20 games was recruiting a newbie.
Alas, today won’t be the last time I speak on the matter, Dungeons and Dragons haunt me everyday. I stare at minis, I stare at the upcoming books and modules, and I watch youtube where they tell RPG Horror Stories, Its become a huge part of my life, such as dancing once was. It almost links right into my earliest talents...writing. I love to write, just like I’m doing now. Im fairly decent at the writing game if I must say. Hey, real life failed Bard here, I should make one who always ends up playing big bro, and end up being friendzoned by all his interests. Im short, so Halfling is very true. Am I charismatic? Who knows, I can’t say for sure. But yes, I feel like this is what I need, a solid weekly game, maybe once every two weeks, hell, once every month would still be great. Something to look forward to the very least, in this life of routine and mundane. Something to look forward to for me, something that’s my own. Something I don’t need my closer friends to be apart of, since they’re not interested anyhow. I’m really talking shit because I’m hella salty, but at least I’m being upfront. Get it all out now, before the typing is done.
It’s been a productive session, I may have to attribute it to Lofi it seems. The Lofi Hip Hop Radio on YouTube, also found on Spotify. Some tracks still strike me deep in the chest, giving me horrible flash backs and feeling in my chest. Others keep me going, forward, almost propelling. I’m currently training myself to be accustomed to the sounds, because I at first was very scared. That it would just transport me to a dark place and keep me there. I’ve been trying to confront my feelings more with this music, I think I felt better after last session like this. The more I faced myself, the better I became. Yes, I most definitely referenced Persona 4, another amazing and loved title because of the message it portrays. I always wondered what my shadow self would look like, and what they would say. But eh another time, I’m about to start rambling again. I have to conclude here, before I get off topic.
Until next time Tumblr...
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One of the Lucky Ones
A Chrimbus Prezzie for @royallunatiic that I adored writing for her! <3
Basically a thing about Vegeta I’ve been entertaining in the back of my mind for several months. It’s a lot of things and very centralized in Vegeta’s head and feelings and oof. It focuses on canon and non-canon moments and kinda explores themes with Vegeta’s character I feel get overlooked inside and outside of canon material. It is also based on a mix Lau’s (royallunatiic’s) hcs and my own. I wouldn’t call it a retelling but more of a change in perspective that delves into darker themes surrounding Vegeta.
As a fair warning for others that might choose to read: this fic includes violence, gore, abuse, harsh language, some sexual content, mentions of depression, and probably things that people who hold canon as the Holy Grail will not like. It is a very rose colored glasses off kind of read. There is probably something in this that everyone won’t like but that’s the beauty of things, isn’t it? And this IS about Vegeta so :3
Also, side note, some of the formatting got lost between here and google docs and im too lazy to go through and try to fix that, so unfortunately some italic emphasis within the bulk of it will be lost, rip.
Most importantly, I hope this lives up to the hype, Lau! <3
Vegeta raised a white-gloved hand to his scouter, options flashing across red glass until he settled on the general’s name and scouter number. “Nappa, what is our estimated time of arrival?”
Several seconds of silence passed, the prince’s temper flaring a centigrade more with each impatient tap of his foot on the pod’s floor. Just as he clenched his jaw and prepared to snap at the other Saiyan and more forcefully request the information he sought, his scouter beeped followed by the unmistakable grumble of the man who served to raise him in lieu of a biological parent.
“Let’s see…” Vegeta rolled his eyes when he heard Nappa yawn. How the large Saiyan stayed comfortable crammed into the tiny space pods even with the help of the pod’s assisted stasis setting baffled him. Less than half the other man’s size, Vegeta struggled to rest for any proper amount of time no matter his level of exhaustion or the length of the trip. Nothing a usual plague of similarly themed nightmares helped. Years of getting used to it was the usual spiel the general gave when the prince cared enough to question him. “Twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours before we get to take revenge for Raditz and destroy that damn mud ball.”
Vegeta grunted in response. He could have laughed at their cover to keep anyone listening in on their conversations from knowing their true objective. Neither Saiyan cared to avenge their fallen comrade, Saiyan or not. Raditz foolishly set off to find his weakling of a brother and got himself killed. If such lowly warriors could best him, he was a waste of space and resources. Good riddance; Vegeta had no time for coddling the third class fool, anyway. They had Dragonballs to secure and immortality only suited the strong. To overthrow and kill an all-powerful tyrant, he would only suffer the company of the very greatest warriors.
“Very well. Rest up, Nappa. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“Don’t tell me these Earthling’s got you scared,” the general scoffed, the creak of leather sounding as he shifted in his seat. “Raditz’s power level didn’t hold a candle to ours. We’ll blow ‘em all away, no trouble, a year of training or not. And without Kakarot, it will be a cinch. In and out, just like we planned.”
Vegeta snarled. “Watch your tongue, Nappa. I’d sooner fear Cui than a lowly Earthling.” He hoped the bastard heard that. Or that Frieza did and would relay the message to amuse himself with the soldier’s rage. “They are at least clever enough to gang up on Raditz. I would hate to see you meet your end over stupidity.”
“Fat chance.”
If Nappa had anything else to say, Vegeta missed it. He had switched his scouter off to take his own advice. Or try. His anticipation to achieve immortality, to finally avenge his people and end Frieza once and for all. Kept his mind from shutting down. To take back what was promised to him, what was rightfully his. For his own, personal revenge for the abuse and embarrassment he endured under his rule. As little more than a slave. Jaw tense at the memories, he closed his eyes.
His nerves went into overdrive as the door slid shut behind him, the fur of his tail standing on end at his waist. A request for an audience with Frieza never bode well in past experiences. It usually meant a beating or other form of degradation in front of his cronies or for his own sick amusement. And with the weight of his planet and his race perishing still heavy on his heart and mind...what more could Frieza say or do to him?
Before he could kneel or greet the tyrant, Frieza turned from his locked view of the passing stars to the young Saiyan rooted a few feet in front of the door, trying his best to keep the hollowness he felt in his chest from his gaze. In front of Nappa and Raditz, he had tried to remain aloof. Stunned by the suddenness with a hint of anger at cruel fate and be the strong leader he now had no choice but to be to them. They answered to him, not his father. Not any more.
“Ah, Vegeta! Such shocking news!” Frieza threw his free hand in the air to complement the dramatic flare in his voice. He set the glass of wine he clutched in the other on the nearest surface and floated toward him, reptilian feet meeting tile before the Saiyan. “My condolences, of course. An asteroid of all things wipes out the Saiyan race!”
Vegeta swallowed, gloved fingers curling into his palms and his tail tightening around his waist. He did not need to be aware of Frieza’s general distaste for his people to hear the mocking undertone dripping from every word. The misfortune of his race was a cause for celebration to the tyrant.
“We will move forward,” he responded robotically, straightening his posture and meeting Frieza’s wicked, crimson eyes. His mouth went dry when he saw the humor dancing in them. “We will continue to serve as we always have.”
The emperor of the universe placed his hands behind his back, contemplating. Searching for ways to toy with the boy like a predator who had cornered its prey. “Spoken like a true prince with so much responsibility suddenly on his shoulders.” He sighed, the latter portion of his tail idly striking the tiled floor. “Such a shame to lose so many monk--I mean, soldiers. Their lives are irreplaceable.”
Rage burned hotter in his hollowed out body. It danced on his tongue and clawed at his jaw, desperately trying to pry his mouth open to retort or spit in his face or simply scream. Anything but the fear-soaked silence that pervaded. What did he have to lose? Everything he had been promised--his kingdom, his people, his planet--had all been obliterated. Dying now would grant him mercy. But the fighter in him, the angry, scorned warrior, screamed louder. He screamed for blood. For vengeance. He was young, but he didn’t believe that asteroid story. It stank worse than Nappa after a long day of training in the wastes back home. And this performance, this farcical show of compassion, only fueled such suspicions.
“Come now. Don’t look so glum, Vegeta. After all...” Frieza rested a clawed hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Tight. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”
No, no, no.
This had to be another nightmare.
Vegeta clung to the last dregs of consciousness his weakened state would allow in order to type the coordinates--any coordinates--to what he hoped would land him at a base to get patched up. His hand shook over the buttons, and his vision doubled and tripled while trying to make sense of the screen. Blood trickled down his forehead and off the tip of his nose. Every inch of him screamed in agony. A few more seconds of focus...that's all he needed….
He fell back once he thought he counted enough characters punched in, gritting his teeth as the careless motion jolted a new bolt of pain through his body. Obsidian eyes hooded, he watched the stars, asteroids, and planets whizz by in a blur through slitted gaze. He felt his consciousness fading, his mind replaying the bad dream Earth had turned to in a jumbled chronology of events. The fight with Kakarot, how the third class stood up to his every attack. That damn brat and his bald friend and the fat one interfering. Cutting off his damn tail. Squeezing the life out of that clown in his Oozaru form. Saibamen and the joy of watching those worms struggle against them and Nappa when they wouldn't give them the Dragonballs. The brat transforming. Nappa's blood on his hands for his failure. The bald one sparing him.
Spared. Not victorious. Not immortal. Broken. Beaten. Bloody. And spared by a worthless third rate warrior and his weakling friends. The great Prince Vegeta bested by a troupe of circus performers. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if he had the breath and fortitude for it. Pride damaged, a small part of him hoped his battered brain had typed the coordinates in wrong. Dump him off on some random planet to die alone with what little dignity he had left. Let his race perish once and for all with him. Kakarot was no Saiyan. He did not deserve the warrior blood that roared in his veins. He was an Earthling. He barely knew what it meant to be a Saiyan. The hardships he had faced. How it felt to lose everything.
Kakarot. His bloody fingers twitched as the name of that fool spun around his mind in a taunting sing-song like some sick nursery rhyme. Yet. He didn't know that feeling yet. Sparing him was the biggest mistake those Earthlings could make. He would make Kakarot suffer. He would kill each of his friends one by one in front of him. Slow. Grueling. Starting with the fat one that robbed him of his tail. Then, he would kill Kakarot. No. He would spare Kakarot. Beat him to a gurgling mess of blood and broken bones and destroy his planet with him on it. Yes, that would do nicely.
First things first: immortality. Namek. Frieza. Then, Kakarot.
Quaking hand rose to his scouter. He sent out a distress signal. Just in case.
He convinced Nappa to let him out of his sight with relative ease and bored Raditz with some excuse about checking out the moons of the planet for vegetation types to keep him from tagging along to leave the planet they were ordered to recon alone and undisturbed. The assignment was close to the coordinates of his home planet, committed to memory in his youth. After nearly a decade, the close proximity tugged at an emotion he couldn't place. Deeper than curiosity but darker than nostalgia. A need to put to rest his doubt and disbelief, and affirm it had not all been a cruel joke Frieza played on him all these years.
Though, as his pod flew ever closer to his destination, a dim hope flickered in the buried part of him that still mourned and despaired over the fall of his race. For that reason, he kept his eyes closed, the vision of his home planet painted on the inside of his eyelids. Until the pod slowed, and the change in motion coerced the Saiyan Prince's eyes open to see…
To see nothing. Nothing but stars and space dust.
He didn't know how long he stared, or how many times he cancelled his pod's attempts to reroute him to a place for a proper landing when the current coordinates yielded nothing solid. His chest tightened, his throat and eyes burned as he rested a gloved hand on the red glass of the pod. Tears poured from his obsidian eyes as his fingers curled into his palm and he banged his fist against the window. Gone. All gone. He had known it all along, hadn't he? What did he really expect to find out here?
He buried his face in his hands with a shuddering breath, sliding them back into his hair before letting them fall limply at his side. He couldn't deny it now; Planet Vegeta had been obliterated along with everyone on it. Reduced to no more than space matter idly drifting among the stars. In that moment, even his memories of his youth seemed to join them as any attempt to recall them left him numb.
Another request to reroute to the nearest planet echoed too loudly in his ears. Vegeta spared the empty vacuum where his home once lay one last glance before inputting the coordinates to the planet he and the others had been assigned.
Vegeta switched off the ship’s gravity controls soon after touchdown on the long forgotten planet he had chosen for training. The gradual shift from 450 times the Earth’s gravity back to normal levels welcome after hours of pushing through the training drills. He gripped the console to steady himself and hunched over as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his visage and pooling between switches and buttons. Every muscle, every fiber of his body ached from the strain of training at the high level of gravity. So much so that just a twitch of his fingers depleted far more energy than anything should. He slammed his fist down on the control panel and straightened up. He had no time to rest. He had to push himself, push through the pain and strain and keep going. He was running out of time. He needed to become a Super Saiyan no matter the cost.
Measured steps carried him to the bag he had packed. He rummaged around and pulled out a fresh set of armor. He tore off the sweat drenched rags his training reduced the current set to and tossed it aside, replacing it with the clean suit and chest armor. He ignored the toll the simple action took on him and yanked his boots and gloves on. He punched the button and released the door hatch to descend onto the planet’s surface. Away from the distractions of Earth, the planet that had become his chosen prison. He had to stay close to his prey, keep his enemies close. Make this unexpected resurrection count.
His second chance at life had begun with sucking in dirt before rising out of a shallow grave. Followed by witnessing a third-class warrior fill the slot in his race's history meant for him. Vegeta had stared up into a tumultuous sky as the very planet beneath his boots breathed its last breaths, erupting and quaking as a greater power threatened its very core. Awestruck, the Saiyan prince watched legend become reality. Kakarot had achieved what most wrote off as legend, aglow in gold, hair and eyes changed from dark hues to light: a Super Saiyan in the flesh. And he faced off with Frieza. Would soon kill Frieza. Both milestones he promised himself and only fit for the last living Saiyan royal. The clown snatched his birthright and vengeance for all he and his people suffered under Frieza from him in the span of hours.
The realization only settled after the whirlwind of astonishment, initial pride in the irony of a Saiyan ending Frieza, and momentary swell of invincibility with the idea of being back on top with Kakarot and Frieza both dead suddenly switched direction and whipped him into the nearest wall. The damned fool survived after all, according to those bumbling Earthlings. His mood tanked, and something akin to panic intertwined with his rage: what now? Where did he go from here?
Immortality didn't strike his fancy anymore when living forever seemed worse than death, the easy way of winning. He could cross Frieza off; he couldn't kill a dead man. That left Kakarot and his friends. He could kill the latter whenever he chose, the only one posing a possible challenge being the Namekian. But what use was that when he could not stand up to Kakarot's retaliation? The fool had thrown his whole plan off kilter! Stole everything promised to him and made him look like a fool! The Saiyan Prince would not--could not--be bested by this low class a third time. Kakarot would die by his hand, that would not change. But he needed to train first, achieve Super Saiyan and do it better.
And so he trained. Day and night until he flirted with death. Haunted by the image of Super Saiyan Kakarot battling Frieza on a dying planet. The memory of sensing that power for the first time seemed stamped on his ki perception, a power that threatened to bring him to his knees. Bitterness, vengeance, and rage surged him onward, a man possessed. Driven by an ever present need to take his place as the most powerful being in the universe.
And yet, despite all that, he remained unchanged. Stronger, certainly. But he still lacked the key to transformation, and that only ignited his fury further. What did that buffoon have that he lacked? How? The singular word bounced around his brain like the simulated ki blasts of his training program. What was the secret? Time ticked down until these androids meant to doom them all arrived. He refused to die to some mechanical monstrosities, not before he got his chance to prove once and for all that he was the superior warrior.
They would serve as a testament to his strength. His ascension to legendary status. But he had to get there first.
The sky above him raged in a violent storm, lightning streaking the dark at intervals of mere milliseconds. The air around him surged with power, a reflection of the intense wrath that blazed within him. The ground shook from the force of the accompanying thunder, rattled his very being to the core. He felt awakened, his previous exhaustion forgotten as a new wave of invigoration overpowered it.
So his training began. Unencumbered. Uninhibited. Free of the petty distractions that interrupted him on Earth. Until the meteors threatened his ship. Fine. A new training exercise. He zipped through the shower, punching and blasting his way through the chunks of space rock with precision and finesse. The warm up, he found, when a meteor half the size of the planet entered the atmosphere, parting the clouds in a fiery cascade. The Saiyan prince soared upward, confident when his previous employment required him to destroy entire planets on a whim. He pulled his arm back, energy building in his palm before he shot it toward the meteor. Though, instead of resulting in an explosion, the behemoth swallowed the light, only spraying a few chunks of matter from its surface. Another blast. A barrage of them. Still it inched closer to his only means to escape this planet. His training had left him too drained. This damn rock was going to strand him there on that empty planet. No! He wouldn’t let that happen!
Mustering every last ounce of energy he could, he pulled both hands up to his head, the back of his right hand pressed into his left palm. Purple energy built around him and in his hands. “Galick Gun, fire!” With all he had left, he shot the violet energy through his hands toward the encroaching meteor, energy bursting from his palms and striking it at near point blank range. The explosion shot him straight toward the planets surface, his used up body crashing through rock formation after rock formation before slamming into the ground.
Immense pain and the ringing in his ears were all he could register as he lay prostrate in the wide crater for countless minutes. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the lightning streaked sky above him. He needed to move, to ensure his efforts yielded success. He pushed up with his elbows, snarling as pain ripped through him, and he shifted to his knees and dragged himself to the edge of the crater. He stretched his hand out on level ground and hoisted his upper half from the hole; it was all he could manage. The Prince of all Saiyan’s reduced to crawling, clawing his way out of a crater. Too weak to best a meteor and stay on his feet. How fucking pathetic.
Vegeta beat his bruised and bloody fist on the stone ground, the guttural growl growing in volume with each pound to echo the thunder rolling around him. How many more times did he have to fail? He failed his own race, and then couldn’t even take proper revenge for their murder. He failed Nappa and Raditz, no matter how damn weak they were. At this point, what made him any better? Kakarot bested him, too. Isn’t that why he killed Nappa? Because the bumbling idiot couldn’t even kill an Earth-raised, third rate Saiyan? Even a damn kid from the future had surpassed him! The Prince of all Saiyans! He who had been promised the universe and then some by his damnable father! What did he have to show for it? For all the pain and abuse and training? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. He had been reduced to buying his time on a planet he should have just destroyed upon landing, surrounded by the very idiots that began his streak of shitty luck!
What had Frieza told him? “You’re one of the lucky ones.” Ha! At that moment, he would bet the universe got off on shooting him down and kicking him in the ribs.
He bowed his head as tears of rage and shame filled his eyes, though his gut boiled fiercely. He forced himself onto his feet, stumbling a step before regaining his balance. Nothing. The word echoed in his ears, roaring in the thunder as it answered the lightning. He had nothing left. Had lost it all long ago, but he refused to admit it to himself. And suddenly...everything that had driven him the past three years meant nothing. He didn’t care about Kakarot or killing him or surpassing him. He didn’t care if he left this planet. He didn’t even care if he lived. How long had he walked on borrowed time? His second chance at life was a damn joke, a literal accident, extra time for the universe to taunt him for his failings.
Vegeta’s heart pounded in his ears, beating on his sternum like a war drum. The rest of the world fell silent around him as his rage exploded. Pure power rushed through his body and he tilted his head back to bellow his fury into the void of space above. Blinding light flared from his form and burst with a planet-quaking boom.
Consciousness flooded back like a sea’s tide, the area around him now illuminated in a golden glow. A glow that originated from him. He raised his hands and flexed them before balling them into fists. Such power. It felt incredible. Endless. Roiling throughout every ounce of his being. His shoulders shook as laughter rumbled in his chest and finally burst from his mouth. He took to the air and shot through the angry sky, admiring his speed. He destroyed mountains as he whizzed by them, each target bigger than the last. If he didn’t need the ship, he would have destroyed the planet itself just to see how easy his new power made it.
Landing near the ship (still intact, surprisingly), he powered down, acutely aware of the toll it took on him. He would have to fix that, master the form and improve upon it. It felt surreal, like he would wake up at any moment. But he knew better. He knew he only had nightmares.
He had truly done it. He had become a Super Saiyan.
“Well, I guess there really is a first time for everything.”
Vegeta didn’t care if the bartender’s comment was meant for him or merely the young woman musing aloud; he kept his attention on the drink sitting in the open space within his crossed arms on the polished wood. He could still hear the vapid giggling of the two women as they trotted to the elevator at the back of the room, clinging on the arms of his charmed comrades. It was nothing new to the prince, especially on obvious busy work like this meant to keep them out of Frieza’s line of sight for a little while. Until he needed them again. Everyone knew years of mining and drilling by the Cold’s forces had sucked this planet dry of any valuable resources. The inhabitants ranged from an occasional surprising street fighter to abysmally weak, and very few even knew how to control Ki. The bulk of Frieza’s force there had already evacuated, sent on more fruitful endeavors for the empire. At best, this planet would be made a base, and the inhabitants would have to continue to live with Frieza’s soldiers. But, this far out, Vegeta wasn’t that optimistic.
A misstep had earned them this pointless assignment on the edges of Frieza’s claim to the universe, and they were given three days to complete a full recon and report, not counting travel time. Peeved and annoyed with the gall Frieza had to assign them busy work, even Vegeta agreed that, after finishing up the assignment in just over a day, they could use the remainder of their second day to use as they saw fit and send the report in on the morning of their third day. For Raditz and Nappa, that typically meant booze, food, and fucking whoever would have them. For Vegeta, he would likely find a space to train at his leisure.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of three or more men not break out into a fight over my sisters’ company. Unless you’re just not into women...I suppose I shouldn’t assume…”
Obsidian eyes finally slid over to the woman, and, in comparison to her siblings, he understood why she would not appeal to the masses as easily as her sisters. Shorter and more plainly dressed in a shabby-looking, moss green jacket (the bar blocked the rest of his view of her outfit), she appeared to prefer avoiding attention rather than grabbing it. Two, beaded braids framed her face while the rest of her tawny hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the same braids appearing intermittently throughout. She lacked the nearing gaudy makeup her sisters donned, and freckles dotted her lightly sun-kissed cheeks and the bridge of her slightly misshapen nose. A preference for the outdoors, perhaps, if not natural. The long ears inherent of her race jutted out from the side of her face, and he noticed the rose color dusting their tips.
“Your sisters aren’t my type,” he said finally, in hopes of shutting her up. She seemed to be the type to talk more when nervous. If she didn’t continue to ramble, he could at least take some solace in the fact that her voice held a more mellow timbre than the near screech of her sisters’. He picked up his drink and took a hearty gulp. Supposedly the strongest they had, but he knew he would need to drink these all day to even earn a buzz.
He heard her hum and he thought she might take the hint and busy herself with cleaning the counter or glasses. Something other than making small talk with him. Wishful thinking.
“I would ask what your type is, then, but I’m going to assume you won’t answer that.” He offered her a grunt in response, though he couldn’t stop himself from casting her another glance, as if her unasked question reflexively piqued his curiosity to check if she fit such a bill (not that he really knew his type, anyway; he didn’t care to figure it out, but he always knew what wasn’t). The only features he would consider striking in her face were her eyes, an unusual shade of shimmering silver he could not recall ever witnessing. “You’re Frieza’s soldiers, right? You and your friends?”
He fixed her with a glare, insulted, but unsure of how to correct her first: the Prince of all Saiyans answered to no one unless he wanted to and he would never refer to Nappa or Raditz as a friend. However, in an attempt to avoid more pointless conversation and seem interested in talking to her, he replied with a growled, “Yes,” and drained his glass.
“So, you can fight, then?”
Vegeta slid the glass across the bar toward her--which she expertly caught, much to his surprise considering the suddenness and speed--and rose to his feet. A stupid question, and he was sure she knew it. He pulled the neck of his armor out to fish out his pay chip, intent on paying for his drink and making a hasty exit, and slapped it down on the bar.
The woman retrieved his chip, but made no immediate move to run it. “Um, this is going to sound like an odd question but would you spar with me? I need the practice…” Silver eyes darted to the tapping of his fingers on the wood, and she rushed to the terminal behind her. She returned and offered the chip back to him. However, when he reached out for it, she snatched it out of his reach. She didn’t flinch when he growled; she expected an answer.
The Saiyan prince lifted a hand to his scouter, but it hung in midair. A habit to check a prospective opponent’s power level. He lowered it again. His tongue wrapped around a haughty rejection, but held it firmly in his mouth. Such a strange request when none that he surveyed on the planet could touch even the lowliest of Frieza’s men, and most showed no signs of any fighting prowess besides. He doubted she was much different, but his boredom and curiosity convinced him to humor her. If she had the guts to challenge him, he could grant her the satisfaction of understanding just how grave her mistake was.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Her eyes widened; she obviously expected him to refuse. A show of sharp canines in an annoyed snarl reanimated her. She slapped the chip back into his waiting palm and darted toward a door off the bar, tearing the apron from her waist and shrugging out of her jacket as she went. Vegeta tucked his pay chip away as she shouted into the next room that she was going out. She slammed the door before whoever was behind it could protest and joined him on the other side of the bar. Unencumbered by the bar and her jacket, he saw that she wore a baggy pair of pants that matched her jacket in color and a pair of boots common in style on the planet. The white shirt turned out to be a tank top that clung to her body and bore a strip of her midriff, accentuating toned arms and abdomen. Heat rose in his cheeks when his mind registered that she was...shaplier in the chest area than the jacket allowed onlookers to guess. He turned on his heel quickly to preserve his pride and class.
“Great! I know a place not far from here. Nice and open and people don’t usually hang around there.” The woman followed him outside and, before he could ask if she could fly, her feet left the dust-riddled street and she took off. He huffed and flew after her, catching up with ease. She could use ki. That at least meant this spar might scratch the surface of interesting, at least.
“I am surprised you can leave your bar unattended on a whim, even in a backwater town like that one. Is business truly that slow?”
“My parents will handle it,” she responded shortly, her attention set in front of her. “They own the place, anyway. They’re lucky I give enough of a shit about my sisters to stick around, help out, and protect them, and they know that. They sure as hell never do it. Besides, they probably think I’m off to earn money, anyway, so of course they’re not going to question it.”
Vegeta had his suspicions about the two women when they fluttered over to the trio upon entering. His icy demeanor spurned them immediately, but Nappa and Raditz welcomed their flirtations without qualm. He heard their whispers and the exchange of terms through their giggles; he had tagged along to enough brothels to understand their inner workings, no matter how low key and whether he participated or not. However, he could not recall any where parents pimped out their children. Such vile beings this universe hosted…
They touched down in an open field, the patches of green within the nearly dried up landscape the most he had seen in miles. “Do you plan to charge me for this spar then, woman?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. A slight smirk curled his lips. “Do you charge per punch landed? Extra for using ki?”
Her brows lowered and corners of her lips dipped downward as she stretched an arm over her chest. “You like to hear yourself talk after all, don’t you?” She snorted and switched limbs. “Obviously, I knock out or kill those who agree to spar with me and rob them blind. Requires much less calculation.”
He might have believed her if he hadn’t caught the quiver of her lips in a flash of a smile. “Ha! Well, I think you’ll find I’m much more difficult to take down. But, if you can, I’ll give you every bit of currency I have to my name.”
“Great, I’ve been eyeing a new pair of boots.”
She sprang forward before the last word could register meaning in the Saiyan’s mind, punches and kicks flying in a flurry of speed he did not expect. He dodged them without issue, his arms remaining folded, and allowed his focus to gauge her skill level. Quick. Unpolished but confident and strong swings, suggesting she taught herself to some degree and had enough success. The ever lessening presence of her smirk further suggested the latter; she was not used to having this much trouble.
Finally, Vegeta allowed an easily dodged uppercut to connect with the underside of his chin, a test of her strength, how hard she could hit. His head snapped back, the point of contact smarting and his teeth ringing from the impact. He expected her to celebrate her small victory, but she proved him wrong. A sweep of her leg sent him skidding several feet from where he stood. He only just recovered before she attacked again. Fine, she proved clever enough. Though a piss poor strategy like wearing her opponent out wouldn’t work on him.
He ducked beneath a fist aimed for his face and caught her ankle as she attempted to follow up with a kick. He responded to her surprised gasp with a rumbling chuckle of his own. “Not bad. But I’m not just some urchin you picked a fight with off the street.”
Vegeta tugged the woman forward, taking advantage of her lack of balance, and sidestepped. He shoved and elbow hard into her spine and sent her sprawling face first into the dust. “Hmph, if that’s all you have to offer, fly home. I don’t waste time with weaklings.”
She pushed off her hands and twisted at the waist to shoot a wave of lavender ki straight for his face. He bent back to avoid it, the heat brushing past his face before he heard it explode in the cliff face behind them. His smirk widened when he found her back on her feet and charging him again. He dodged and blocked her blows once more, but he noted the significant boost in her speed and strength. Good, she was taking this seriously now. He had given her an immediate understanding of what kind of opponent she dealt with, and she rose with that challenge. Respectable, even if her power level only ranked among the middle levels of Frieza’s ranks.
Their spar continued on much the same way: Vegeta allowed her to punch, kick, and toss ki blasts his way to her heart’s content, then he would return a few blows and knock her away. Each time, she came back stronger, faster, more determined to level the playing field no matter how wide the gap between them or the blood and bruises on her body from his strikes. An admirable warrior in her own right. She impressed him, as far as the denizens of this doomed planet went.
As the daylight began to fade, the sky dyed various hues of burning orange, he noticed each time she fell, she took a few seconds longer to rise up again. Finally, a kick to her side sent her sailing sideways and skidding along the ground. Her body slammed into the bottom of the cliff, and she laid motionless for several seconds. Just when he thought he had knocked her unconscious or her body had finally given out, he heard her groan and flip over from her side to her back, a grin on her face.
“Alright, that’s it. I give in.” She forced herself to a sitting position, expression contorting in pain with every miniscule motion. “You win. But you knew you would this whole time, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.” He cocked his head to either side, stretching the tendons in his neck. Their spar hadn’t been the most productive for him, but it hadn’t bored him either. A rarity, even with those meant to be on his skill level. “You surprised me. I would have never guessed anyone on this planet could even come close to the level you’ve achieved.”
She shifted to face him and swept her forearm over her face to rid it of sweat, blood, and grime. “It was actually a Saiyan that inspired me to learn to fight, even if I had to teach myself. I was little, but I watched a Saiyan woman fight off another of Frieza’s soldiers when he wouldn’t leave her alone. It was eye-opening when I was taught all along that women didn’t fight. Not respectable ones at least.” She shrugged a shoulder and rolled it for a stretch and Vegeta grunted; too many societies he had come into contact with believed similarly. He found it pathetic and ridiculous. “I couldn’t turn down the chance to fight one, to test myself. It’s been ages since I’ve seen another Saiyan…”
“That’s because we’re the last three.” The admission tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and he scowled. He usually did not correct anyone ignorant of his people’s fate, kept his comments to himself when some merchant or whore wondered aloud about the last time they did business with a Saiyan. And yet, this woman had him yapping about something so personal without even trying. Must be the lack of food. When had he eaten last? That morning?
The woman’s face fell. “O-oh...I-I’m--”
“Save it.” Vegeta stomped over to her and stuck out his hand, the suddenness causing her to flinch back. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, a little rougher than he initially intended, though, if it bothered her, she said nothing. He released her hand. “Where is the best place for food here? Everything I’ve tried here tastes like molten garbage.”
“Well, there’s really not much left, as I’m sure you noticed.” She dusted herself off and pulled the strap of her tank top back into its proper place. “But...you’re welcome to stay at my place for the night. If you want. It’s quieter than the hotel, that’s for sure, more comfortable, too. Many of the rooms there haven’t been cleaned in quite a while, if you want the honest truth. My parents have yet to hire new help after skimping on paying the last batch of employees, my sisters refuse to help with that sort of work, and…”
She trailed off when she noticed his pointed look, how she hadn’t answered his question. She swallowed. “And I can cook. So you’ll get food, peace, and comfort. The offer’s open so take it if you want.”
Vegeta watched her take to the sky and mulled over the offer. With how she seemed determined to chat with him, he questioned the validity of her claim to quiet. The growl of his stomach voted in favor, proposing that almost anything could beat the trash he and his cohorts had wolfed down the day before. Comfort...his mind lingered on that word, twisting it into a more lewd definition. Images of her toned, nude body beneath him among a tangle of sheets, glistening in sweat as her moans filled the air…
White energy surrounded him and he shot into the sky after her. Fine. What did he have to lose anyway? Unless Frieza felt some sort of sentimental value toward this planet and those who roamed on it, she would likely be killed in the near future anyway. A shame, considering her potential. It was too bad there weren’t more like her. Enough to make her planet a worthwhile gem among the tyrant’s endless trove…
He wondered if she knew that...understood what his and his lackeys’ stay here likely meant for her and her home…
"We're getting married, Vegeta. That's final."
He swore the damn woman had an alarm on every door he frequented, from his bedroom in the guest wing to the gravity room. Perhaps on his bed, too, as he had just convinced himself to roll out of it, dress, and hole himself up in the gravity chamber to train until his body begged him to stop. He had just pulled the door open and there she stood, scowling and balancing her brat on her hip. The kid seemed unfazed by the aggravation in her voice, more intent on sucking his thumb.
Vegeta gripped the doorframe, the only thing to keep him from shoving her out of the way and continuing on his way. He had spent months away after Cell's defeat, once more a man lost and unsure of his purpose. His pride in tatters when even Kakarot's brat had surpassed him. Those days remained a blur in his memory as he worked through his rage until it fizzled out and he had nothing left to fuel him. Hollowed out, unfeeling, unmotivated. One moment he wanted to steal the woman's father's ship, blast off into space and challenge every powerful warrior he could find to validate his own strength. Take over the Cold empire as he was meant to. In the end, that all felt pointless. A set up for another string of unfortunate failures. Thus, he settled on the only thing that felt familiar, the only thing that brought even the remotest sense of contentment for him: training. Even if it meant suffering the woman and her worthless friends.
"Hello! Earth to Vegeta! Did you hear a word I said?" Bulma swapped the half asleep child to her other hip. "I know you decided to disappear on me and your child for months, but surely that didn't affect your hearing!"
He wished it had, her shrill shrieks unfriendly to sensitive ears and already threatening a pounding headache. "I heard you, woman," he growled, making to shove forward only for her to shift in front of him. Marriage to a weak Earth woman who could not even fight...he could hear his ancestors laughing in Hell. The only attributes she possessed he would consider remotely worthwhile were her decent looks and intellect when it came to technology. Nothing marriageable about her to a true Saiyan. Not to mention her obvious desire for Kakarot no matter how she tried to hide it. In his time there, he found Earth's ideals, especially those surrounding marriage and mating, starkly differed from those of Saiyans. And not for the better. They craved companionship and what they called love as the highest goals in their lives. They would set aside everything for it, change themselves for it, no matter how long or hard they worked to achieve whatever goals they had before. Saiyans rarely married, even his parents married as a mere show of power, the Saiyan King with their most powerful, accomplished, and terrifying general. They mated when they chose, and if a brat resulted from it, it didn't always mean they stuck around as a pair. Here he found, that was taboo. Unacceptable and improper.
"And just why do you think I would want to marry the likes of you?" he asked, hoping a thinly veiled insult would upset her and send her crying to her parents or that beta male she still fucked around with.
His words only deepened her glare and she stood her ground. "Are you kidding me?" She pointed at the brat, now babbling and tugging on the neckline of her shirt. "You knocked me up, you creep! It's the right thing to do, and you owe me and Trunks at least that!"
"Because you weren't throwing yourself at me the moment the damn Namek dragon sent us all back to Earth." He could insult her, belittle her, nearly kill her friends, treat her like utter trash and order her around like a damn servant day in and day out and she still flirted and tried to bed him. The meaner he was, the hornier it made her. Of course he caved eventually; he had needs, too. He hadn't even thought of impregnating her, his bestial instincts begging him for release in more carnal avenues and blinding him to the possibility in the moment. He stupidly forgot their races were even genetically compatible. She wanted to fuck, he needed release; the answer was simple at the time. "I don't owe you shit, woman, now get the hell out of my way before I force you out of the way."
"After I let you live, eat, and train here for free, you really think you don't owe me anything? I don't think you've ever even said thank you!"
Vegeta rolled his eyes. He had had enough of her shit for another few months. He shoved forward only to be blocked again. His temper flared, hackles rising in warning.
Bulma merely scoffed. "You need to man up, Vegeta. Own up to your 'mistakes'," she huffed and yanked a strand of her hair out of the child's clutches before he could stick it in his mouth. "I'm going to be straight with you since no one else--not even yourself--will. Your entitled, cocky prince act was cute at first, but it got old real quick. Your outbursts and temper tantrums are childish. Newsflash, Vegeta! You're not even a prince anymore! Your planet and people are gone, and the few left would never bow to you! You're not royalty, and no one will ever treat you like it! Get over it and stop acting like a baby. You have a child now, I'm going to be your wife, and you're going to learn to live here like a responsible, normal person!"
Had she spewed this drivel a few months, a few years ago, he might have blasted her where she stood for her disrespect. The emptiness inside him kept him from caring about her stupid opinions, her expectations of him, the grains of truth in her prattle. He did not care if she thought him a "real man." He did not even care that she insulted his title, his bloodline, or attacked a sensitive subject she could not begin to understand the gravity of. But the attack on his pride as a Saiyan, to order him to conform to her idealistic model of normalcy and perform the part of the happy husband and father, roles he didn't care to fill with the likes of her...that threatened to put her through the wall she stood in front of.
"That's rich coming from a spoiled brat like you," he snarled. She didn't know shit about him and she didn't try either. Why the hell would he want to bond himself with a woman like her? His dark eyes found her blue ones, the darkness in him bubbling to the surface. "Say one more word to me today and I'll rip your voice box from your throat."
This time, Bulma stepped back, her spine meeting the wall as she swallowed. He could smell her fear, no matter how little her stubborn frown wavered. He huffed and moved past her, stomping toward the glass doors at the end of the hall that would lead him onto the manicured lawn still drenched in the morning dew.
"How typical! Hear something you don't like and you throw a fit! Solve all your problems with violence like the ape you are!"
Vegeta halted halfway to the door. Every muscle in his body tensed as a war for control raged inside him. His mind had converted Bulma's voice to Frieza's, the slur and similar ones echoing in his skull joined by the cruel laughter that often accompanied it. One fist slammed into the wall beside him while the other clutched his head. He had to move. Get out of that damn hallway and away from the damn woman. He could hear the brat screaming from somewhere far away, his mother trying to hush him and throwing another insult his way.
He willed his feet to walk. Once outside, he shot into the sky. Away from Capsule Corp. Away from the city. He would not suffer her shit another second that day.
Glass and bone crunched beneath his boot, fresh blood further staining once ivory leather. The screams and groans of pain had subsided, the only sounds around him the crackle of flames and the occasional whistle of the wind. The scent of death and burning flesh filled his nostrils, fueling the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
He kicked a corpse aside--a soldier, if the armor meant anything--and tapped the button on his scouter with bloodied fingertips to perform a scan of the area. See if any unlucky fools escaped his initial razing of the planet. He had the whole assignment to himself. Nappa had protested; the planet had been in rebellion for quite some time and housed unexpectedly powerful warriors in great numbers. How even the strongest warriors could fall when outnumbered. Vegeta ignored him and threatened to toss him out an airlock if he tried to follow without his say so. It would be a worthy test of his strength, an uninhibited and untethered display of his power, if the reports had any merit.
As it turned out, they didn’t. Not that he could see.
His scouter beeped three times as it picked up a reading, the yellow characters flashing on the red glass indicating it originated behind him. Close, weakened if ever strong. Attuned ears picked up the slow approach with one foot landing heavier on the pavement than the other, a poor attempt at stealth. One left. And here he thought he had been thorough…
“You damn monster,” the lone survivor croaked behind him. Vegeta opened his eyes enough to note the surge in his power level on his scouter, a light behind him lengthening his shadow. So, he would fight to his last breath.
The Saiyan turned on his heel to face his heckler, tongue lashing out to lick gore--his or someone else’s, he didn’t know or care--from his face. The local had definitely been caught in the crossfire, armor cracked and broken, his body littered with bruises and painted with blood. He put all his weight on his right leg, the left hanging limply beside it. He held a ball of ki in his hand, though the light guttered with the fading of his energy.
“How very original,” Vegeta drawled. Terrifying speed placed him directly in front of the dying soldier. He gripped his wrist and snapped it back in a sickening crack, sending the attack meant for him jetting into space. The man howled in pain, widening the smirk the Saiyan wore.
“Y-you’re no better than him...than Frieza!”
His smirk fell into a tight frown, and his grip tightened. “You’re right.” Vegeta raised his hand level with the soldier’s face. “I’m much, much worse.”
Vegeta fired the blast at Kakarot. Point-blank range and putting him on guard with no chance for immediate retaliation. He had to be if he wanted to protect all those people spectating in the stands behind him. He watched as the force behind the energy forced him back, back, back. Until he finally had to relent and fly out of its path. Yellow light soared into the crowd and exploded through the cement structure, a path of ruin left in its wake through the city beyond. Screams of terror and anguish filled the air, a symphony to the Saiyan’s ears.
Finally. Finally he would get what he wanted, what he craved for all these years: revenge. To best Kakarot and once and for all reclaim his rightful place as the most powerful Saiyan in existence. Babadi’s magic did no more than reach into the depths of his mind, his soul, and resurrect Vegeta. Tearing the man once feared the universe over, the savage and ruthless destroyer, from the shallow, unmarked grave he himself had shoved him into. For comfort. For ease. For conformity on this wretched planet. The fingers of the wizard’s black magic plucked the pesky attachments he developed from his mind like overzealous weeds. Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans was whole once more, beaten down pride and burning rage reignited and flaring hotter than any star.
They called his decision to succumb to Babidi’s mind control weakness. Slavery. No. The wizard had no more control of him than anyone else should have these past years. He felt more powerful than he ever had. He raised his hand again and shot another blast into the crowd. This. This was what he wanted. He would not let anyone or anything stand in the way of his battle with Kakarot. Not the Kai. Not Gohan. Not this Buu creature or Babidi. They settled this today. He would reclaim his honor, his destiny.
He would stand in Kakarot’s shadow no longer.
Vegeta struggled against the powerful arms that restrained him, tail lashing in fury as he fought with fists, feet, and teeth against Frieza’s goons. He could hear Nappa bringing up the rear, pleading the young Saiyan’s case with Frieza: he was young and hadn’t learned to respect his betters, his mourning made him mouthier, that he would handle punishment himself and ensure it never happened again, anything other than locking him away like that, to lock him up in there instead. They both knew his words fell flat in the tyrant’s ears; Vegeta had finally crossed the line and told the emperor just what he thought of him and Frieza did not tolerate insubordination.
The soldiers tossed the young Saiyan to the back of the dark room. He roared and darted forward, only to collide with the cold metal of the door slamming in his face. He only just registered the pain it caused, already launching himself for the door again, intent on busting it open. He screamed and rammed into the door, bellowed for Nappa to let him out this instant. Deep down he knew his protests were swallowed by the darkness that encompassed him in the small space, but it didn’t stop him from yelling until his throat was raw. From bashing his full weight into the door until his small frame went numb.
Furious, he bounded back. Ki built in his palms and he shot every ounce of energy he had toward the door. The blast rebounded straight back and struck him in the chest. The force knocked the wind from his lungs and smashed him into the wall behind him. His body slid to the ground and he laid still. Limp, too weak to move.
It was too easy to lose track of time in that pitch black cell, and he did not know how long he lay there. Light filtered into the room as the door cracked open. Freedom! He willed himself to fly toward it as a tray with a paltry sum of food was set on the cold floor along with a glass of water. Vegeta nearly grasped the edge of the door but, once more, it slammed in his face and nearly took his fingers with it. He growled, his throat screeching in protest at the guttural sound. He felt along the edges of the door--or what he thought were the edges of the door--for any kind of hand hold. A way to grip it and force it open. Sealed tight, as expected. He kicked the tray into the wall in his stubborn frustration.
He counted six meals. Six failed attempts at escaping. Sometimes, he woke up from his slumber, and when he felt around the cell, he found the food waiting for him. Missed opportunities. The meals barely kept him alive and awarded him no energy. He slept more often than not, plagued by dreams of spending the rest of his life there. The deaths of his parents and people burning up in the wake of an exploding planet. Nappa and Raditz being tortured in his absence...He always woke up in a tighter ball after such nightmares, tail squeezing him in makeshift protection…
Light flared and burned his eyes, causing him to hiss and tuck his face into his chest and arms. Large hands slipped beneath him and scooped him up. His tail bristled in warning and his body stiffened, all senses on high alert. The restraints held fast, the familiar scent of the Saiyan general filling his nose and calming him. Nappa carried him out of the cell, and Vegeta buried his face in his armor, fighting the tears of anguish that threatened to fall.
Before long, he was deposited onto his bed. The young Saiyan prince squirmed beneath the blanket and faced the wall in his bunk, knees tucked to his chest. He heard Raditz shift above him but his light snoring remained uninterrupted. He held his blankets tight around him, clutching them like a lifeline and laid perfectly still. He still felt tired, drained, but his eyes remained wide open and set on the wall. He never knew he could miss a bed or a pillow so much. Or the sound of Raditz snoring. Or light.
After a long while, hours perhaps, he heard Nappa sigh; he had forgotten the general remained in the room at all. “I’m sorry, kiddo...so damn sorry.” He spoke in nearly a whisper, his typically strong and boisterous voice close to shaking. “I wish I could protect you like your parents wanted...like you deserve.”
Vegeta’s grip tightened on the blanket that failed to warm him. He felt cold. Always so cold. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t do you any good, Nappa,” he mumbled, a half-hearted reprimand in comparison to his usual temper. He turned to face Nappa, staring him down with a blank expression and hollow eyes. “Mother, father...everyone else is dead. We survived, and we’ll keep doing it...no matter what it takes.”
He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re the lucky ones.”
Upbeat dance music filtered up to the balcony on a light summer breeze to the balcony on the other side of Capsule Corp. where Vegeta had taken refuge from the ongoing celebration. No one noticed his exit, and he had no qualms with that. While most left him to his own devices, he tired of the idle conversation, the laughter and music. Thus, he snatched up a cooler of beer and took off to the other side of the building, settling in at a table on one of the balconies.
He tipped the bottle back and drained the rest of its contents. He threw it into the air, toward the setting sun, and blasted it into nothing. Since Majin Buu’s defeat, he felt as if he floated through space and time, a phantom going through the motions of a routine that felt more pointless by the day. Not even training held his interest long and, more often than not, he found himself flying around the planet aimlessly but pretending to have a purpose.
Kakarot had once more proven himself the better warrior and killed Buu. He swallowed his pride and accepted it, accepted the fact that he would forever be second place. In the moment, he thought acceptance would free him and perhaps it had at the time. But as time passed and he returned to life on Earth playing the role of husband for show and father and took up his training regimen...a weight bore down on him, growing heavier each day. He grew restless and craved direction, purpose. How long had he chased that dream of revenge? Of surpassing Kakarot and anyone else who challenged his birthright as the most powerful Saiyan--no, being--in existence? After losing Raditz and Nappa, being humiliated on Earth and Namek...he had clung to the only things he truly understood: rage, pride, and vengeance.
Vegeta reached down to fish out another beer from the icy confines of the cooler. He flicked the cap off with his thumb and pressed it to his lips, draining half the bottle in a single gulp. He considered the idea of taking the spaceship and wandering the universe that always lingered at the back of his mind. Search for warriors to train with, test his limits and break them and the monotony. The desire to conquer and claim what his father promised him had faded to a fever dream. He lacked the patience it required these days. As usual, he squashed the idea before it could spur him into action.
Maybe someday he would find something that sparked the fire in him again, gave him purpose. Or he would spend the rest of his days in inanity, performing a part in a play he neither tried out for or wanted. Waiting for the next tragedy to befall the Earth or universe so he could feel alive for a day or two or until the threat was exterminated, likely by Kakarot. And then the cycle would repeat: he would train to get stronger, a new threat arises, Kakarot proves he’s more powerful. Maddening. Unfulfilling. Reality.
He let his head fall back and watched the whisps of clouds lazily sail through the darkening sky. What had Frieza told him when he found out about the destruction of his planet and people? That he was one of the lucky ones. Lucky...by Earthling standards, many had told him that for one reason or another: you have a hot, rich “wife” and don’t need to work, a place to live and food to eat, a healthy son, the fact that he was alive to live the next day. Nothing that truly mattered to him; an ideal Earth life did not appeal to his Saiyan warrior mentality. In fact, he could not think of a single moment in his life where he would consider himself lucky, even with Frieza dead and unable to be the source of his despair.
Raised voices and laughter from inside shifted his attention to the glass doors. Kakarot had finally showed up. His friends surrounded him like flies on shit, grinning and laughing with the buffoon like he had been there all day. Even his shrew of a wife who had complained about his absence all afternoon to anyone who would listen smiled in welcome. Kakarot...the damn bastard. He drank the last of his beer and stood up.
Vegeta had lost everything else--his title, his race, his birthright--but, as he stared down his longtime rival from behind a pane of glass, he knew he could cling to one, single truth: he was a warrior. Always would be. And he would never stop pushing and breaking his limits his way.
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“What are you doing in a place like this?” Lena and Eva
Eva loved Lena's visits more than anything. She felt like for once in her life she had a real friend who really, really wanted to see her. Someone who was willing to make up the most ridiculous lies Eva had ever heard in her life just to say hi.
However, it seemed her visits were getting shorter and shorter which meant either Lena was getting busier or her mom was catching on. Either way, it came to the point where Lena would ask her for a favor and Mariella would just conjure it up without even leaving Lena's sights or giving Eva a chance to slip out of the temple to say hello. Eva knew if she wanted to see Lena again she had to do something about it.
So when Lena visited next, Eva slipped out of the front of the temple with a bag full of food and some water and went to her carriage. She saw there was a trunk in the back and was about to sneak in when her driver caught her.
"What are you doing?" It was a ghostly man. His eyes glowed with black smoke coming out, and his feathers were grey and sullen. He wore a long black robe and he either didn't have feet or they didn't touch the ground.
"I-i uh..." she panicked.
"Are you this... Eva that Lena won't shut up about?" He asked.
"Yes, yes i am," Eva nodded, putting on her best mask of confidence.
"I see," he eyed her up and down.
"Uh... who are you?" Eva asked.
"Louie, the god of death. Get in the trunk, she'll be back soon," Louie opened it for her. Eva smiled gratefully before stepping in. The trunk was much larger than she had thought (or maybe she was much smaller than she realized) so she fit quite comfortably. She knew that was likely to change once they got started, but she was fine with that.
Soon enough though, she heard Lena come back and enter the carriage. She shouted a few things and soon they were off. And fast. Eva could've sworn she got whiplash as she heard the skeleton horse's ear piercing shrieks.
The underworld sure was going to be interesting.
And hot.
She soon realized that as they traveled father down it was really, really hot.
Meh. She'd adapt.
Eventually, the carriage came to a stop and she heard Lena get out. Eva laid in the trunk a long while after Lena left before Louie opened the trunk and got her out.
"Thanks Louie," she smiled before taking a look around. There was a blue, glowing river flowing around the ground with what looked like souls of the dead. She looked up and saw smooth, dark stone creating a high and ominous roof. There wasn't a glimpse of sunlight. What did create the light were torches and the river of souls.
"You want me to take you to Lena?" Louie gestured to a small black gondola on the river. Eva shook her head.
"I think I wanna explore a bit for myself," Eva said.
"You still have to ride my boat then. You can't cross without dying very, very painfully without riding my boat," he stated flatly.
"I can't die, I'm immortal?" She chuckled, confused.
"It's not so much as dying as your soul being torn and broken out of your body. C'mon," he went into his boat and Eva obeyed.
Slowly they rowed along as Eva kept her eyes off the river. If she dared looked down she feared the souls would try to reach up and grab her and 'kill' her like Louie said. Eventually they reached the dock and Eva got off.
"I got to get back to work, but I'm sure you'll figure out a way past Cerberus," he grinned a little before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"Cerberus? Isn't that just Lena's dog? How bad could that be?" Eva rolled her eyes when she suddenly heard loud barking behind her. She spun around and saw a three headed dog covered in spots barking at her.
"O-oh hello there," she smiled nervously. As soon as she spoke the barking ceased and the heads looked at her curiously.
"I didnt think that'd work," she thought out loud. She tried taking another step closer but one head growled.
"Hi there boys... I'm Eva. I'm a... guest here. Lena's talked all out me to you guys," she spoke in that 'I'm talking to a dog' voice everyone uses. When she said her name, Cerberus immediately perked up and wagged their tale. Eva stepped forward, to which he didn't object, so she went gave him some good scratches under his chins. Once Cerberus was happy enough to let her pass the gates, Eva patted all of the heads and and headed in.
Inside the gates was not too much different. There wasn't a river of souls to be the main source of light, instead there were crystals and other rocks that naturally shone. Eva wandered around a bit found a river of pure fire which was very... hot..., the river styx which looked inky black and painful, when eventually she stumbled upon a gate where a small garden was. Eva realized she had left her bag in the carriage so she was really, really hungry. Quickly, she made her way into he garden and picked a pomegranate from the tree.
"What are you doing in a place like this?" Eva froze.
"Well... not a place like this, this is the kind of place I'd expect you to be," Eva turned around and saw Lena looking very displeased.
"Hi Lena... long time no see?" She laughed nervously.
"Eva, put that down, you can't eat that," Lena took the pomegranate from her hand.
"Well why not?" Eva frowned.
"They who eat the fruit of the underworld become a part of the underworld," Lena explained.
"Well what's so bad about that?" Eva put her hands on her hips.
"It means you wouldn't be able to leave," Lena sighed.
"Oh..." Eva slowly understood.
"We need to return you to your mother before she makes a big fit and starts a famine until she finds you," Lena summoned the cornucopia Demeter gave her and handed Eva a peach from that. Eva accepted, but was still disheartened.
"How did you cross the river of souls anyway?" Lena asked as they started heading back.
"Louie helped," Eva said as she took a bite.
"Llewellyn," she sighed and shook her head.
"Well how did you get past Cerberus? He was in my office but i suspected intrusion when he lept away and to the gate. He surely would've at least tried to stop you," Lena asked.
"He just liked me, i don't know," she shrugged.
"Cerberus only likes me," she muttered to herself.
"I like to think im likable," Eva questioned her words.
"Oh no no no, I'm not saying you aren't or anything I-i just-... sorry. I'm sorry," Lena brushed her hair back.
"It's okay, it's okay," she laughed, "I get it. Dogs are usually particular."
"Cerberus more than others. But... i guess that's good to know," Lena smiled a bit to herself.
"Good to know why?" Eva asked the towering goddess.
"Well... if you... could ever... or would ever... want to stop by, you know?" Lena blushed.
"Oh i would love to! I'd love to stay b-but... my mother probably won't let me out of the temple after this," Eva lowered her eyes.
"O-oh..." Lena nodded, "Well... I'm sure Certain that Cerberus will miss you," she said as they walked past the gate where he was waiting. He wagged his tail and both Lena and Eva gave them good scratches behind the ear before they walked back.
"So... why'd you name him Cerberus?" She asked.
"It uh... it means 'spot'" she explained and Eva laughed.
"You're the goddess of the underworld, ruler over all the dead and all that creepy stuff, and you name your three headed hell hound spot? Why that's- well- that's-"
"Ridiculous?" Lena raised an eyebrow.
"Adorable," Eva snorted.
"Adorable?" Lena paused.
"Yeah, i think it's cute," Eva smiled at her and watched Lena's face turn bright pink. Eva chuckled more.
"Thanks... no ones... ever called me cute before so... i appreciate it," Lena smiled so nervously, it was so cute that it made Eva blush.
"No problem," she smiled back. Soon enough though, they reached the river of souls so she had to call on Louie to be their guide. The three rode in silence until they got to their carriage.
"So... the underworld isn't that far from the temple, right?" Eva asked.
"The underworld is under all the world. Its both near and far. If you want to travel the world, technically you could do that in the underworld," Lena explained.
"Oh! Cool!" Eva sat down.
"Yeah, I'm sure you'd like it. There's a lot you haven't seen," Lena sat too.
"...we keep forgetting about my mother," Eva said as the carriage started to drive.
"Well... I'm sure she's bound to let you go out again, right?" Lena asked, uncertain.
"I hope," she sighed, looking out the window as they sped by and by.
"I promise to visit more," Lena offered her hand.
"I think mother is never going to let me out again or even see you again if she thinks i ran off to see you," Eva said.
"But maybe if you just come twice a year like normal, that'd be nice. Maybe she'd let us chat longer... i don't know, but this doesn't mean we have to give up entirely," Eva tried to smile. Lena smiled tiredly at her.
"I'm sure we'll try," she said. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Once they arrived Eva looked out the window and saw most of their plants were dead, and an unhappy Mariella was sitting in a chair, talking with a nymph of sorts.
"I bet this is her doing. She gets all huffy when i disobey and kills some plants because she won't let them grow until i apologize," Eva said.
"Ah," Lena nodded.
"I... i guess i should go," Eva put her hand on the handle.
"Wait, Eva, I-" Lena touched her shoulder.
"Yes?" Eva asked.
"I... I'll miss you... a lot. Your company has been greatly... appreciated," she looked away. Eva grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
"You too," Eva smiled at her before heading out, not knowing when she would ever see Lena again.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
#my fics#ducktales#hades and persephone au#lena despell#eva colibri#kdjchwkfjr#this took awhile#idk#ejfjjejxjekkieuf8wjdidkdkdjfjfjrkrkfkfk
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Fallin’ All In You
Finally I finished the fic I started for @laurainlilac like a week ago (im so sorry it took me forever i got carried away) This is based on her lovely phanart of dnp as angels and i loved it and had to write a one shot for it. So thank you for letting me take your beautiful art as inspiration yet again Laura ily u r the bomb dot com
read on ao3
Words: 19k
Description: Dan is a Fallen Angel. He's been alone in life and death, but maybe this friendly blue eyed Angel is about to shake his world up a little.
Warnings: mentions of suicide and murder (but nothing explicit and no gory details of either), smut, light angst, and swearing as usual
Dan was alone.
That went without saying, honestly, as that was basically the story of his life up until this moment. He sighed, kicking the heels of his feet back against the worn brick. It was silly, honestly, to be sat on the edge of some rooftop, overlooking a garden party with a detached sense of longing in his chest. He wasn’t a part of this. He knew that. He was aware that the laughter and music below was a vestige of a life he was no longer allowed, but that didn’t ease the sting of his loneliness.
He watches sullenly as the girls danced around in their sundresses, giggling and calling to their lovers, who stood idly by drinking and laughing at their antics. Dan found it incredibly heteronormative, the idea of a typical wedding scene such as the one he found himself taking audience of, but who was he to judge the mortals on their customs? He wasn’t one of them, so his opinion didn’t matter on the subject.
“You don’t always have to sit on the sidelines, you know,” a cheerful voice announces from behind him, interrupting the calm silence of the evening around him.
Dan startles, pitching forward in surprise at the sound. Before he has the chance to actually make it over the side, there’s a tugging on the collar of his shirt, and he finds himself being tugged backwards. “Careful. That’s a nasty fall, mate.” The voice is full of amusement at this point, and Dan shrugs the hand off his shirt with a grimace.
The body belonging to the voice settles itself beside Dan, matching his position with his feet hanging off the side of the building. Dan allows himself a moment just to look, and if he were still alive he’s certain his face would flush at the way the other man’s eyes immediately meet his, a knowing smirk on his face. “Not for me,” Dan mutters in response to the man’s previous statement, struggling to keep his composure.
The man tilts his head then, his black hair shifting from its quiff to fall down just slightly. Dan follows the movement with his eyes before bringing his gaze back to meet the blue eyes that are locked on him. “Would I be wrong to assume that you wouldn’t make it to the bottom?” The man asks gently, a knowing look swimming in the blue of his eyes.
Dan shifts his stare to settle on the party still raging below. He clears his throat before answering. “You’d be right.” He nods curtly.
The man hums from beside him. Dan doesn’t have a chance to wonder what the soft noise means, because then the man is speaking. “I’m Philip,” he says easily, holding his hand out as if to shake Dan’s. The action is so comically human that Dan doesn’t even know what to do other than just stare. Philip awkwardly drops his hand then.
“Daniel,” Dan responds belatedly, giving his full name only because the other man had done the same.
“You can call me Phil, if you want.” The same hand he’d just dropped comes back up to run through his hair, pushing the quiff back up to attention.
Dan snorts. “You’re implying that I’ll be around you enough to call you anything.”
Phil laughs and his head tilts back with the action, the noise bouncing around the roof area. Dan’s gaze flickers nervously to the crowd below, but he’s fairly sure that the man beside him is Concealed, too.
“I like you,” Phil says jovially. “You’re feisty.”
“I think that’s probably an insult, but thanks anyway,” Dan responds dryly.
A smile carves itself out on Phil’s face, and it takes Dan a moment to tear his gaze away from the way the other man’s tongue sticks out between his teeth. He looked completely goofy, but Dan’s stomach twists with something he hadn’t felt since before he’d died.
“It wasn’t an insult. It was a backhanded compliment,” Phil informs him proudly, his happiness unwavering.
Dan rolls his eyes at this and moves his hands from his lap to grip the bricks on either side of his thighs, leaning over the side and staring down at the ground forlornly.
“Careful,” Phil warns softly from beside him. When Dan glances over at him, he sees that smile has fallen. “I know you can fly, but…” He trails off, his gaze focused on the ground below them. If Dan didn’t know that this man was an immortal being, he’d probably think that the expression on his face was fear. But as it was, he’d deduced that this man was an Angel, and he knew that it was silly to fear heights if you were a being who had the gift of flight.
“You seem to think I’m dumb enough to launch myself off the side and forget to spread my wings,” Dan deadpans, unamused at what he saw as a subtle insult to his intelligence.
“I don’t think you’re dumb.” Phil shakes his head in disagreement. He grimaces then, his gaze flickering from Dan’s face down to his hands. Dan loosens his grip on the brick then, hyperaware of the attention that’s on him. “I think you’re sad.”
The words are like a slap to the face. Dan can’t even move his mouth to argue at first, he’s so surprised. Here’s a virtual stranger, practically psychoanalyzing him after basically five minutes of knowing him. What’s worse is that, he’s actually right.
But Dan isn’t about to admit that.
He straightens his back, huffing as he drops his hands to the rips in his jeans, sliding his fingers under the strings and pulling gently. “That’s pretty bold for you to say to someone you just met,” he says bitingly.
“Am I wrong?” Phil asks gently, his gaze soft.
Dan clenches his jaw and faces the other way pointedly. He didn’t know who this guy thought he was, but he wasn’t about to sit here and listen to his opinion on something he knew nothing about.
“I’m going to take that as a no.”
Suddenly, anger flares up in Dan’s chest. This man didn’t know him. They’d just met, and even if they did have the whole immortal being thing in common, Dan knew that there was something huge separating them, something that Phil likely already knew.
“Why are you talking to me?” He demands, leaving little room for an argument. “I know you know.”
Phil tilts his head again, clearly studying him. “Know what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Dan seethes. “It doesn’t suit you.”
A chuckle spills from the lips of the man seated next to him, and Dan frowns. He was being serious, this was not a time for laughter. “Really, Dan?” He questions, sounding far more amused than he has any right to.
“Why are you still here talking to me?” Dan asks again, feeling almost pained at this point.
“Do you want me to leave?” Phil inquires, quirking an eyebrow.
Dan huffs, kicking the brick a little harder. “I don’t care what you do,” he mumbles.
“Really?” Phil is clearly hiding a smile, and Dan is having none of it. “You sound like you’ve got an opinion on it.”
“I don’t want your pity,” Dan suddenly snaps. Something about the way Phil was still sat there talking to him, despite knowing what Dan was (and Dan knew that he had to know by now) just pissed him off. He didn’t need this, he really didn’t.
“You don’t have it,” Phil replies easily.
Dan snorts. “Then what the hell do you call this?” He asks, gesturing between the two of them wildly.
Phil surveys him. “A friendly conversation,” he finally says, smiling brightly.
Rolling his eyes, Dan flicks a rock off the building. “I don’t have friends,” he mumbles. The “I don’t have anybody,” was unspoken.
A silence settles over them as Phil seems to consider this. Dan has a moment to run his gaze over Phil’s white clothes, and he nearly snorts. Typical angel, dressed all in white. He glares down at the black clothes clinging to his own body and thinks maybe he’s feeding into the stereotype as well.
“Would you like to have one?” Phil asks eventually, his voice soft.
Dan prickles at the question. “No,” he snaps, annoyed. “I’m alone, and I like it. I like being alone.”
“No one likes being alone,” Phil insists with an eyeroll of his own.
“I do,” Dan spits. He’s had enough of the conversation, and he pushes himself to his feet with far more grace than he would have had as a human.
A thought occurs to him as he turns to leave, a twisted one. He smirks as he feels his wings expanding from just below his shoulder blades. They spread out elegantly, he’s sure, the black feathers probably melting into the darkness around them. He’s almost positive this will be it. Phil’s eyes will widen in fear as he realizes, since he apparently hasn’t already. He’ll likely stutter out some form of prayer, and Dan would likely scoff, or gag, at the sound of it.
Dan’s so sure about the reaction he’s expecting, he nearly trips when he realizes Phil’s face hasn’t changed, not a bit. His eyes merely drift over Dan’s tapered feathers, so dark they look like they’ve been dipped in ink, with barely a twitch.
Swallowing down his annoyance about the reaction he didn’t get, Dan crosses his arms, lifting his wings even higher. “See? I don’t have friends. And I like it that way.”
Phil’s eyebrows furrow in a way that’s almost cute, and Dan frowns at the word as it passes through his thoughts. This Angel wasn’t cute. He wasn’t.
Assuming his lapse in judgement is due to the length of time he’d spent being annoyed by the man, Dan turns to leave, still in the middle of deciding whether or not he felt like flying.
Just as Dan reaches the edge of the roof, Phil speaks again. “You may like being alone, but no one likes being lonely.”
This causes Dan to pause, and he very nearly turns around to argue about it. There’s a loud commotion below, though, followed by laughter, and he takes that as his cue to leave.
“Bye, Dan. Enjoy your night,” Phil calls, his voice bouncing across the rooftop to reach Dan’s ears.
Ignoring his sentiment, Dan launches himself off the side of the building, allowing his body the moment of panic it still held to, even in death, before expanding his wings for flight. Even all these years later, it still amazed him how almost-human he was, minus the fact that when he was in his natural form he had two gigantic black wings. The almost-human part of him even longed to cast one last look over his shoulder at Phil, and just study his features one last time.
He doesn’t look back.
~~~
Dan would be lying to himself if he said he completely forgot about meeting the strange Angel after a few weeks had passed. As a matter of fact, it seemed like he could think of very little else. He hated it, but he couldn’t help but think about those blue eyes, darker in the shadows than they’d be in the light of day. The almost-human part of Dan foolishly longed to see them that way, but the part that knew what he was dismissed it. Phil knew he was a Fallen now, there was no way he’d ever want anything to do with Dan now.
Not that Dan wanted that anyway. He didn’t. He really didn’t.
Despite how much he definitely did not want that, Dan couldn’t seem to keep wondering what Phil did in his spare time, which Dan knew from experience that he had a lot of. Being an Angel sounded like a great gig until the whole dying and being alone for eternity bit kicks in. But Dan wasn’t bitter or anything. Of course not.
Besides, why be bitter when now he had all the time in the world to travel the world, as well as a free way to do it? Financially free, at least, because the physical toll flying took on his almost-human self definitely came at too high a cost.
Rather than fly all the time, Dan actually preferred to walk. Sometimes he’d even go so far as being Unconcealed to walk among the humans, and once or twice he’d even spoken to passersby. But as a general rule, he preferred to stay away from them. It only made the reality of how alone he truly was sink in, and he needed that even less than he needed to be thinking about Phil.
Today, Dan was Concealed. He’d been in Dublin for a few days and was considering leaving, but he’d yet to decide where he would go. So, as if it would help his thought process, he was strolling around a park, by himself as usual. This time he wasn’t even privy to the lives of passing humans, as it was late enough that none of them were out and about. It being January probably didn’t help things, either, considering how cold it was. Luckily, Dan couldn’t feel the cold, so he wasn’t bothered by the slight breeze as he followed the path through the greenery.
He’d been there for an hour or longer, he wasn’t sure; time moved differently when you were dead and it didn’t matter. He almost wished he could stay until the spring, when all the trees would be in bloom, but he knew he was too restless to stay in one place for so long. Despite the fact that he probably didn’t take full advantage of his gift of flight, he couldn’t handle how stir-crazy he got after spending more than a few weeks in one place.
The idea of settling somewhere and attempting to have a quasi-normal human life had occurred to him before, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to watch the humans around him die. Or maybe, the deeper and more angsty part of his brain suggests, it was just because he couldn’t stand the idea of them leaving him feeling even more alone than he already felt.
Either way, it was a rubbish idea, one that really didn’t even appeal to him. The idea of settling and having some kind of family just disgusted him. Truly.
He pauses at a lake, his eyes roaming over the still water. He finds himself wishing, again, that it was warmer, so that he’d at least have some ducks or something to look at. The water was pretty, but something about the stillness was just unnerving.
“Fancy seeing you here,” a pleasant voice comes from behind him.
Dan startles, his steps faltering as he tries to place the voice. It doesn’t take long for him to recognize who it is, and he struggles to decide whether or not he’s happy or annoyed about it. Sparing a glance to the side, where Phil has suddenly appeared, Dan raises an unamused eyebrow. “Are you following me or something now?” He asks with a snort.
Phil smiles at him, an adorable little grin that has Dan struggling to look away. “Why? Would that freak you out or would you be into that?”
The question has Dan stumbling on the path, his eyes widening at the obviously flirty tone. “What?” He nearly screeches.
“Like, if I were following you,” Phil explains, brushing a strand of hair back into his quiff. “I’m not, by the way, but some people... are, you know... Into that.”
Dan stares at him, his mouth opening and closing awkwardly as he ponders how to respond to that. “Stalking?” Dan asks incredulously.
Phil nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You’re asking me if I’m into stalking?” Dan deadpans.
“Yeah?” Phil asks slowly, almost unsurely.
“You’re weird,” Dan says, shaking his head.
Phil smiles brightly at him. “Thank you!” He says cheerfully.
Dan studies his side profile for a moment, his thoughts jumbled as he tries to figure out why Phil is there, talking to him again. Before Dan even has a chance to vocalize this question, Phil is sighing, looking up at the sky with almost a dreamy expression.
“I love how the sky looks this time of day,” Phil says softly, his eyes not leaving the view as he speaks.
Dan glances up, surveying the sky with a small frown. “It’s not bad I guess. I prefer the dark.”
Phil grins at this, nudging Dan with his elbow. “Of course you do,” he teases.
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, Dan huffs in mock annoyance. Truly the banter didn’t bother him, and he’d even go as far as saying that he enjoyed it, but that was one thing he just wasn’t ready to admit to himself.
“Wanna sit?” Dan asks, gesturing awkwardly at a bench as they pass it. He almost hopes that Phil says no, just so he doesn’t have to feel the obnoxious fluttery feeling in his chest any longer. Just almost.
Phil sends him a smile, nodding eagerly. “I’d love to.” He veers off the path first, taking a seat closer to the middle of the bench, rather than sitting on one side.
Dan bites his lip as he assesses how little space will be left between them, but he’s already asked, so he can’t back out now. As gracefully as he can, he sits beside Phil, keeping his arms and legs tucked close to his body so he doesn’t accidentally brush against Phil. That would just be too awkward, even for him.
If Phil notices his uncomfortable position, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he begins humming something under his breath, leaning back and surveying the trees around them. Soon it would be rather dark, much too dark for any humans to be outside, but another one of the perks afforded to them was the gift of significantly better eyesight, so Dan knew that it wouldn’t be a problem for them.
“What are you singing?” Dan asks softly after a few moments, unable to sit in silence with the other man.
Phil glances over at him, tilting his head. “I don’t know what it’s called. It’s some new song, I keep hearing it in shops and things.” He waves a hand dismissively, but he has a questioning look in his eyes. “Do you not follow the human music scene?”
Dan laughs once, without humor. “I used to, when I was one of them.”
“Yeah? What kind of music did you like?” Phil seems to be trying his damnedest to engage Dan in some sort of conversation where he has to share things about himself, and although friendship is clearly the intent, Dan hates the idea of doing it.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” He bursts, unable to keep the question from spilling out. It’s what’s been on his mind since the last time he’d seen Phil, and he needed answers. “I know you know I’m a Fallen. So, what gives?”
Phil has a sad look on his face as he surveys Dan’s face. Carefully, he raises a hand and brushes a single curl out of Dan’s eye. Dan resists the shiver it invokes. “Do I have to have an ulterior motive to be kind to you?”
Dan shifts away, unsubtly. “In my experience, yes,” he admits, trying to control his breathing. He can tell he’s about to go from being annoyed to angry, and he needs to keep that under control. Phil hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d really only done everything right, and that was the problem.
Apparently his answer is the wrong one, because Phil’s lips dip down in a frown. Dan doesn’t miss the sympathy there, and he wants to scoff at him. He didn’t need his pity. “I don’t have any ulterior motives. I just want to be your friend,” Phil says quietly, his voice dripping with sincerity. Dan nearly gags at that.
Even still, he feels the uncomfortable sinking in his chest at the word “friend,” as if he wanted more from the raven haired man. He didn’t. That was ridiculous.
“I’ve told you. I don’t have friends.” Dan picks at a string that’s come unraveled from the rips in his jeans, tugging on it. To him, the string represented his patience with this conversation. It was wearing thin, and eventually it’d snap. Maybe a pretentious and overly philosophical thing to even consider about his jeans, but still.
“Ah, yeah I forgot. You’re all edgy and alone. Sorry.” Phil sounds actually sarcastic this time, and Dan finds himself glancing over at him, pleasantly surprised at the humor that almost matches his own. Phil meets his gaze with what is almost a smirk, and Dan rolls his eyes with a huff.
“Yeah, well. Not everyone can be one of the popular kids, Phil. Some of us are outsiders.” Dan feels that he might be making it more personal than it strictly needs to be, and really, he pretty much is. He doesn’t know why, but something about the situation makes him think of secondary school, and how hard it was for him to feel like he actually fit in. He didn’t want to go down that path again, he really didn’t.
Phil is quiet for a moment as he seems to consider this. “You can have friends and still be an outsider, Dan. Ever read The Outsiders?”
Dan snorts. “Outdated reference, bub.”
He doesn’t miss the eyeroll Phil shoots him then, although Phil probably doesn’t mean for him to see it. “Okay, fine. How about The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Ever read that?”
That draws Dan up short, as he had read it, and seen the movie. It was one of his favorites. He’d related far too much to that story in his teen years, so for Phil to mention it now was just... a lot.
Apparently, Phil takes his silence as an affirmative. “Charlie and Patrick and Sam were all outsiders, Dan. But they were still best friends, and they had each other. They weren’t entirely alone, you know.”
Dan glances over at him, considering. After a brief staring contest, he lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh. “Okay then.”
Phil quirks an eyebrow, clearly not following. “Okay then what?” He asks cautiously.
Gesturing vaguely with his hands, Dan gives him an impatient look. “Well now you have to woo me. Or do whatever you do to get a friend. You’ve talked yourself into it now, mate.”
Dan wishes he had a camera to capture the answering grin that lights up Phil’s face. But since he doesn’t, he’ll just have to stare and commit it to memory for later.
“You’re not gonna know what hit you, Dan. I’m going to be the best friend you’ve ever had,” Phil holds his pinkie out childishly, clearly expecting Dan to link pinkies with him for the silly gesture.
Despite himself, Dan loops his pinkie around Phil’s, staring at their hands as Phil squeezes tightly. He ignores how warm Phil’s skin seems against his, letting go the moment the opportunity presents itself. Clearing his throat, he shifts so that his arms are resting against the back of the bench, trying hard not to brush up against Phil’s arm. “So... I’ve never... um I’m not great at the whole friendship thing. You might need to walk me through it.”
Phil doesn’t seem phased by this. If anything, he seems excited. “Okay! I can do that.” He runs a hand through his hair as he moves so that he’s almost fully facing Dan. Something about the way he’s got Phil’s full attention warms Dan’s cheeks, but he tosses his head back to look at the sky so that Phil won’t notice.
“I guess we have to get to know each other?” Dan asks, already resigned to the idea of sharing things about himself. He didn’t like it but he was pretty sure that being an Angel and all, Phil could fine out whatever he wanted with the endless records that they had access to. Must be nice, he thinks bitterly.
“Yeah, that’s a good start!” Phil gets a hesitant look on his face then, glancing over at Dan before his eyes flit down to his lap, where his hands are fiddling uselessly. Dan watches the movement with vague interest, wondering if maybe he had adhd or something as a human. “How about you ask me questions? I’ll answer anything you want to know, and then when you’re comfy we’ll switch?” Phil suggests.
Dan doesn’t miss the hopeful tone in his voice, and honestly Dan is grateful that he suggested it. He wasn’t great at talking about himself as a human, and considering he’d been afforded even less opportunities to do that after he died, he was pretty certain that he still sucked at it. “Sure. We can do that.”
Phil smiles at him, his hands finally stilling on his lap, his fingers laced together delicately. “Alright, hit me with those sweet questions,” Phil sings, his tongue poking out between his teeth in that goofy way. Dan can’t help but find it a little endearing, though he’d never admit it.
After thinking for a few minutes, Dan comes up with a vaguely interesting question that he only partially cares about the answer for. “How long have you been... you know?”
A fleeting look of sadness crosses Phil’s face, but he wipes it away with a contemplative glance up to the sky. “Um, I think twenty-two years, this summer.”
“Hm,” Dan hums. He was a little surprised. Phil had died around the same time as him. He wonders vaguely how they never crossed paths in all the years they’d both been there, but he supposed that heaven or the great beyond or wherever the hell they’d ended up was pretty crowded. “Do you live with the others?”
Phil shakes his head then, gesturing around them. “I prefer to live on earth. We all have the choice, you know, but all the stuffy angels think they’re better than that and they just choose to stay up there in their stupid castles or whatever.” His nose crinkles up as he says this, and Dan wonders if he’s imagining the trace of bitterness he hears in his voice.
“Yeah? So where do you usually stay?” Dan hates it, but he’s actually very curious about the answer to this.
“London is nice,” Phil says with a shrug. “Sometimes I jump over to New York, but generally...” he shrugs again as he trails off, as if that’s explanation enough.
“I was from near London,” Dan finds himself saying. He hadn’t even planned on sharing this bit about himself, but now that the opportunity has presented itself, he sees no reason not to. “From before… well, you know.” Even all these years later, it still feels so weird to describe his own death, but he knows that if anyone would understand, it would be Phil.
“Really?” Phil sounds pleasantly surprised. “I was from near Manchester.” His gaze slides away from Dan then, and a wistful look covers his features.
“Yeah? You’ve lost the northern,” Dan says in a poor attempt at a joke.
Phil’s lip barely quirks up at the tone of Dan’s voice, but his eyes hold a sadness now that hadn’t been there before. “I know,” he says softly to his shoes.
Dan suddenly regrets ever bringing it up. He hated the way that sadness twisted Phil’s features, and if he had some sort of power to rewind time and erase that comment, he’d use it now. Gently, as if he’s approaching a frightened animal, he reaches a hand out and brushes his fingers lightly over Phil’s knee. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly, trying his best to do the decent, human thing here.
“Yeah,” Phil shrugs one shoulder, but his lips quirk up into a small smile that proves that he’s not entirely lying. Dan allows his hand to fall away from Phil’s body, and he doesn’t miss the way that those blue eyes track the movement. “It’s just… the thing about being Chosen… You have to watch your family pass. And…” He gets choked up there, and Dan’s certain that his heart would be breaking if it was still beating.
“Were you close to your family?” He inquires, hoping that maybe recalling fond memories will help Phil feel less miserable about having lost his family. He hopes desperately that it doesn’t have the opposite affect.
Phil nods firmly. “I was. I… We were very close.” He pauses there, as if he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to continue. Something about that makes Dan flinch. He hates the idea that Phil hasn’t had anyone to talk to about this. Sure, he didn’t have anyone either, but he hadn’t really felt like he had anyone when he was alive anyways, so in his head, it was different.
“Tell me about them,” he requests, nodding encouragingly when Phil sends him a surprised look.
Shifting, and looking more uncertain than before, Phil’s gaze flickers back and forth from Dan and the ground. “Well… I lived with my parents after uni. Sometimes I felt like a failure for going back home after I’d finished, but they never made me feel unwelcome. Which,” he grins then, rolling his eyes playfully. “I guess they wouldn’t, seeing as I’m their son and all.” He hesitates then, before speaking softly. “Well, was. I was their son.”
Dan’s chest constricts at the way he’d corrected himself, and he gently bumps his knee against Phil’s thigh. “You’re still their son, Phil. Their passing doesn’t change that.” He speaks softly, trying to sooth the despair in Phil’s eyes.
It seems to work, and Phil has a cute smile on his face when he glances up at Dan. “Thanks. That… That makes me feel better, actually.” Dan shrugs at the praise, gesturing for Phil to continue speaking. “I was really close to my mum, Kath. She was the best mum in the world, and no, I don’t take constructive criticism about that statement.”
Dan raises his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to argue, I promise. I’m sure Kath was lovely.”
Something shifts in Phil’s gaze then, and his eyebrows draw together as he studies Dan curiously. Shifting uncomfortably under the steady gaze, Dan hopes that he isn’t wondering about his own home life, as he wasn’t sure he was so ready to share about that just yet. Instead, he asks Phil if he was an only child.
“No, I had- have- an older brother, Martyn.” He rolls his eyes with fondness as he says this, and the action makes Dan smile. But with that smile, he feels a familiar sting in his chest, trying desperately not to think of his own brother, whom despite not getting along with when they were alive, he missed very much.
“So, you were the baby?” Dan teases gently. Phil sticks his tongue out childishly, and Dan snorts at the gesture. “Yep, you were definitely the baby.”
Phil crosses his arms with a pout, but Dan can tell his lips are twitching as if they want to fall into a smile. “Okay, fine, yeah. I was the baby. What about you? Any siblings?”
The smile is immediately wiped off his face as his eyes fall to his lap. “Yeah,” he says softly. “A brother, younger.”
There’s a pause where Phil seems to be assessing Dan’s reaction to the question, and then he’s softly asking, “Is he…?”
Dan nods wordlessly.
He doesn’t expect it, so he jumps when he feels Phil’s hand fall on top of his own gently. He stares numbly as the pale fingers wrap around his hand in what is clearly meant to be a reassuring gesture. “I’m sorry,” Phil says sincerely.
Dan can’t stand the sincerity in his gaze and he pulls his hand away with a nod. “Yeah, I’d just- I’d rather not talk about it? If that’s okay.”
Phil’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. “Of course. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, really. I’m sorry about that.”
Shrugging, Dan stares down at the ground where he’s kicking the ground with the toe of his black booted foot. “’S fine,” he mumbles. “Change the subject? Please?”
If the request bothers Phil, he certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, he launches into a new question. “I know I said I’d let you ask the questions, but I have a question for you. If you’re okay with answering it?” Phil’s voice lilts up at the end of his sentence, making it sound more like a question.
Dan nods, gesturing for him to speak. “Go for it.”
Phil is quiet for a moment, and he appears to be trying to figure out how to word something. “It might be presumptuous of me to ask this, but considering you’ve been Concealed both times I’ve seen you, and considering… well, you know…” A blush crawls across Phil’s cheeks, and Dan finds it endearing that he feels embarrassed for referencing the fact that Dan isn’t quite like him.
“Considering I’m a Fallen Angel?” He finishes for Phil, with a teasing smirk.
“Erm, yeah…” Phil looks a little taken aback, and Dan lets out a laugh.
“It’s fine, Phil. I know I’m Fallen, and you know it. Not like it’s a swear word, you can say it.”
Phil doesn’t seem to share this sentiment, because he still avoids saying it. “Well, anyway. Considering what I know about you now- which isn’t a lot, mind you- I was wondering… Why do you do that?”
Dan hums. “Do what, exactly?” He’s fairly sure he knows where this is going, and he’s not sure if there’s a not-lame way to tell Phil that he’s just socially awkward and honestly too emotionally ruined to try and befriend the humans he sees every day.
“Why do you live alone? Like, why don’t you try and… I don’t know, try and find some friends?” And there it is. The question Dan doesn’t really want to answer.
With a sigh, Dan sits back on the bench, dropping his head back to stare up at the sky. “There’s a really easy answer to that, actually,” Dan drawls, trying to fight back the bitter laugh he can feel bubbling up in his throat. He tilts his head over to the side to look at Phil, quirking an eyebrow up and smirking. “I’m dead, Phil.”
There’s a look of surprise that briefly colors Phil’s face, but almost as soon as it came, it’s gone, replaced with a look of disbelief. “That’s your brilliant answer?” He pauses, and when Dan only shrugs, Phil snorts out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous, Dan. You’re allowed to be Unconcealed, you know. Even as a Fallen, you can still have a sort of normal life.”
Dan stares at him, his smirk dropping as his lips press together in a thin line. “I’m dead, Phil. I’ll never have a life ever again.”
Phil studies him, a sad look in his eyes that Dan absolutely hates. “It might help,” he says softly. “To try and talk to the humans, try to be part of that life.”
Dan snorts, ungracefully. “Yeah? How do you figure it would help?”
After a moment of quiet, Phil glances down at his hands. “It might help curb the loneliness.”
This gives Dan pause, and he has to just sit there and consider that for a moment. He was alone, sure, but was he really lonely? He never really had friends before, so it wasn’t like he had something to miss. Perhaps he did long for a friend, but he really didn’t know the feeling well enough to have something to crave. Still, Phil’s phrasing did give him something new to consider about himself.
“Sorry if I crossed a boundary by saying that,” Phil says after a moment where it’s clear that Dan won’t be responding.
Dan shakes his head quickly. “No, course not. Just, not sure how to respond to that.”
The silence hangs between them, growing heavier with the longer they choose not to disrupt it. Eventually Phil seems to realize something, sitting up and looking around suddenly.
“Sorry, I know this is incredibly rude, but I actually should get going. I’ve got some… things to take care of.” Phil’s got this adorable apologetic smile on his face, and Dan can’t even think about being annoyed with him for leaving so soon.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t disappointed, however. “Oh. Um… Will you…” He trails off, unsure how to go about asking to see him again.
“Yeah?” Phil asks, tilting his head.
Dan lets out a breath, forcing himself to just say the words. “Will I see you again?”
Phil looks startled by the question, but pleasantly so. “Do you want to?”
The answer to this comes easy to Dan, surprisingly. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay,” Phil grins, looking pleased with himself. Rather than answer Dan’s question, Phil moves to stand, smiling down at him. “I’ll see you soon, Dan. Promise. Stay safe out here, okay?”
Quickly, almost as if he’s afraid of what Dan’s reaction will be, Phil leans down, brushing his lips against Dan’s cheek gently.
Dan can’t hide the look of surprise that graces his features then, but he does try. “Oh. Um. See you- soon?” He hates how desperate he sounds, but he genuinely can’t help it. This is the longest conversation he’s had with someone in literally years, and he feels an odd stirring in his chest at the feeling of human interaction. Weirdly, that human instinct hadn’t been wiped out when he’d died.
Phil smiles, nodding as he goes to step away. “Soon. Promise.”
And before Dan can even respond, Phil is leaving, strolling out of the park in a way that’s so human that Dan can only stare after him in wonder.
~~~
After the day at the park, days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into a month, and soon Dan starts wondering if maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. Surely his imagination didn’t conjure up Phil himself, but perhaps the second time they’d met it was merely a trick of his, admittedly lonely, mind and heart.
Either way, imagined or not, Dan does take some of the advice Phil had given him to heart. He feels uncomfortable at first, being Unconcealed, but eventually, after trying it a few times, he manages to start feeling a little more comfortable. Every time he does it, he tries to last a little longer without the protection that being Concealed grants him, growing steadily better at minimal human interaction. His limit so far was five hours, but today he was going to try to push that at a Starbucks. He’d loved those when he was alive, and he was relieved that the corporate coffee chain was still very much thriving, even all these years later.
He’s ordered a caramel macchiato, just like he did before, and he settles into a booth away from the windows of the store. He hadn’t thought to wear a coat, and he knew it would seem odd for him to sit close to the front, where it’s coldest, in a thin black jumper. So, he settles himself into a booth and settles on people-watching for now. Occasionally he stirs at his drink, unsure if he’s even interested in drinking it. Being dead had its perks, such as not needing simple human things like food or sleep, and Dan honestly hadn’t even tried to indulge in either of them since being Chosen, so he wasn’t even sure if he’d even like it now.
He’s considering this as he stares down into the frothy foam of his drink, his eyebrows furrowed together contemplatively. He’s so lost in his own little world that he truly doesn’t even realize that someone is sitting down across from him until the table jostles.
Startled, Dan’s gaze darts up to find a grinning Phil, for once not wearing an all-white ensemble like the two Dan has seen so far. Instead, he’s wearing red t-shirt with a denim jacket thrown over it. Dan’s a little surprised to see how casual he is, and the irrational, still human-thinking part of his brain wonders if maybe he should try clothes that aren’t all black. It’s not as if he has a dress code, and angels do have access to practically anything, even Fallen ones such as himself.
“You’re a tough man to find, Dan Howell,” Phil announces, still smiling as he props his arms onto the table, lacing his hands together.
Dan quirks an eyebrow at this, his ears zeroing in on the name. “I never told you my surname,” he observes in lieu of a hello.
Phil rolls his eyes at this, lowering his voice as he leans across the table. “You do realize that we’re angels, right? Infinite knowledge at our fingertips and all that.” Phil is definitely referring to the files that are kept, accounting every human life, kept safe There, with access granted to Angels- almost all of them.
So, maybe there was one thing that the other Angels were afforded that the Fallen weren’t, but Dan wasn’t bitter about it or anything.
Rather than act on his slight annoyance, Dan rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I’m actually… well, I guess I’m kind of on probation, of sorts.”
Phil’s lips tug at the corner as if he’s going to smile, but he controls it well. “Would it be rude of me to tell you that I could tell that by the wings?”
Dan snickers at the way Phil’s politely danced around saying it again. “No,” he sighs after a moment. “I knew that you already knew about it. That’s why… that’s why I was a little weird about being around you at first. I thought… I thought maybe you just felt sorry for me.” He suddenly feels very sobered at the thought that he may not be wrong, maybe Phil does pity him, and maybe that’s the only reason he was here now. There’s a violent tugging in his chest at the thought, and he hates it. He hates the idea that he’s just a charity case to the man across from him.
“Is sympathy such a bad thing?” Phil inquires softly, curiously.
“I guess not. Pity is. I don’t want to be pitied.” Dan doesn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
There’s a moment of silence as Phil studies Dan, his eyebrows drawn together. “I don’t pity you, love. I just hate to see you being so lonely.” Phil’s voice is dripping in sincerity, and Dan’s stopped short at the honesty he hears there.
Quietly, as if he doesn’t really intend for Phil to hear it, Dan murmurs, “I didn’t realize how lonely I was until I met you.”
He doesn’t miss the smile curving at Phil’s lips when he says this, but he really does try not to smile back like some sort of idiot. It doesn’t work, and he returns the grin, feeling a flush crawl up his neck.
Phil doesn’t give him very long to feel awkward for saying that out loud, though, because he’s already moving onto something else. “Are you going to finish that?” He asks, pointing to Dan’s drink with a hopeful look on his face.
Dan smiles, shaking his head as he slides the mug towards Phil. “Go for it, mate.”
And Phil does, drinking probably half of it all in one go. Dan’s jaw drops a bit at that, and Phil smiles behind the mug. “What? ‘M thirsty,” he mumbles around another sip.
Holding up his hands in surrender, Dan can’t help the smile that’s tugging at his lips as he watches the man across from him. His black hair is pushed back in a quiff again, and Dan wonders how soft it is.
Finished with his- well, Dan’s- drink now, Phil pushes the mug away and tilts his head at Dan, appraising him. “Do you want to go to my flat?” He asks suddenly, looking rather nervous for the answer.
Dan knows, he really does know, that Phil doesn’t intend it in the way it sounds, but that doesn’t stop him from smirking, leaning forward across the table so that only Phil can hear him. “How very human of you, Phil. You could at least buy a man dinner first.”
Phil’s eyes widen comically, a frantic look in his eyes as he shakes his head. “Not like that!” He protests, almost a whine. He stops then, tilting his head again as if considering something. “Well… Maybe like that.” He bites his lip then, and Dan is almost positive that this man will find a way to kill him again.
Rather than address the rather obvious flirtation, Dan shrugs, sliding out of the booth and stepping away to let Phil out. “Lead the way,” he gestures ahead of him, and he just barely catches the excited look on Phil’s face as he slides out of the seat, leading the way to the door.
As they walk down the sidewalk, Dan falling in step beside Phil, Dan starts to ponder what kind of life Phil lives outside of being an angel. He was clearly much more comfortable with the whole human dwelling thing, and even had his own flat. That was a pretty big commitment for a dead person, even if that dead person was technically now an immortal being.
Unable to quell his curiosity with his pondering, Dan nudges Phil’s arm with his elbow. “Hey, I have a question.” When Phil nods for him to continue, Dan gestures around them, lowering his voice when he speaks. “Is this like, how you live? You really just… act like one of them?”
Phil nods, looking excited all over again. “Yeah, pretty much. We’re given the option, you know, and I just couldn’t stand the idea of staying up There with the others. I prefer an independent lifestyle, but this way I still get to mingle with people, I’m just not as… attached, I guess.” He shrugs, as if he isn’t positive he’s explained it right, but Dan thinks he gets it, somehow.
“Why do you bother with it, though? Like with actually going through the human motions? Like you could just stay Concealed and basically live the same, and no one would even know you were here.” Dan is just genuinely curious at this point, trying to understand Phil better.
Phil crinkles his nose at this question. “I don’t know. I guess I just miss it sometimes. I miss the simplicity of human life.”
Dan hums at that, turning the idea over in his mind. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he replies eventually.
“What about you?” Phil asks eventually. “Where do you usually live? Since you’re… kind of stuck here…” He still won’t say the word, but Dan knows he thinks he’s just being more respectful by avoiding it.
After considering Phil’s question, Dan shrugs. “I’m actually more of a nomad, personally. I don’t really live anywhere. I’m just constantly on the move.” He kicks at the sidewalk a little as they walk, hearing it in his own voice how lonely he really is.
“You don’t sleep?” Phil asks, sounding appalled.
Dan give him a confused side glance. “You do?”
Phil nods vigorously. “Absolutely. The best part of my human life was sleep, I’m not about to give that up just because I’m an Angel.” He sounds so serious, and Dan can’t help the fond smile. He barely knows this man, and he’s already feeling so attached to his personality. It’s a dangerous game for him to play, but one that he thinks is worth risking.
“What else are you not going to give up because you’re an Angel?” Dan asks quietly, stepping just a little closer as they walk and giving Phil a wink when his head whips around to stare at Dan in surprise.
“Are you flirting with me, Dan?” Phil asks, fighting back a smile.
Dan shrugs, feeling a little uncertain suddenly, but intent on seeing this through. “Maybe,” he hums, trying to be mysterious and vague. People found that attractive, right? Not that he wanted Phil to- who is he kidding, of course he wanted Phil to find him attractive. Phil himself was hot as hell (if Dan could use the phrasing) and he’s definitely got the kind of personality Dan finds attractive. Is it so wrong for him to want the same thing in return?
“That’s cute,” Phil coos, pressing his arm against Dan’s as they step around a busker’s area of work on a sidewalk.
Dan would be lying if he said he didn’t blush when he heard Phil say that, but luckily Phil doesn’t seem to notice, being too busy pulling Dan into a building. There’s a simply modern looking lobby, and Phil pulls Dan to the elevator, tugging on the sleeve of Dan’s jumper in order to lead him around. He presses the button for the fifth floor, and Dan files that away. Just in case.
“Here we are,” Phil announces a few moments later, once they’ve arrived to the door of his apartment. The gold numbers indicate that he’s in apartment number 505, and Dan files that away as well. Phil glances back at him before pushing the door open, waving Dan in before shutting the door and sliding the lock back into place. Dan finds something about this very endearing, considering neither of them could be murdered or hurt by anyone who may want to break in. Old habits die hard, he guessed.
“So, it’s pretty small, honestly. The kitchen’s through there, and down this hall is a bathroom, a closet, and my bedroom.” Phil explains after they’ve taken their shoes off, leading Dan into the lounge and gesturing at the areas as he mentions them. He drops his hand to the back of his neck, and for the first time, Dan thinks Phil seems a little nervous.
“It’s nice,” Dan compliments, hoping to sooth his nerves a little.
It seems to work, if Phil’s answering smile is anything to go by. “Thanks! It’s cozy, even if it is a little small.”
Dan shrugs, biting his lip to hold back the joke he’s desperate to make. “Yeah,” he says lamely instead.
Phil gestures to the tv in the lounge, glancing up to Dan with a curious smile. “So, what do you want to do? I’ve got Netflix, games, and pretty good internet, so… what’ll it be?”
Biting his lip, Dan surveys the room, studying all of Phil’s little knick knacks. It strikes him then how similar their tastes seem to be, and he really hopes that this goes well. He decides to suggest anime after seeing a plushy from one of his favorite anime shows, one that he’d obviously only seen in passing since he died.
The suggestion seems to be the right thing, because Phil smiles brightly, looking positively thrilled. “Sure! Have a seat, and I’ll put it on.”
Dan takes a seat on the sofa, feeling a little shy and awkward, but not really as awkward as he thought he’d feel, going to someone’s flat and watching anime with them after years of having next to no contact with anyone. But remarkably, this was nice, and almost comfortable. He felt at ease when he was around Phil, as inexplicable as that was, and he really couldn’t find a reason to deny himself of that. It was lonely being a Fallen, and it seemed that he’d found someone who understood his struggles, or at least some of them. Enough to be his friend.
“You know, it’s strange, but you actually seem really human to me,” Dan observes from his spot on the sofa, not missing the way Phil giggles softly.
“Is that like an insult or something?” He inquires, standing and coming to join Dan on the soft grey material of the sofa, pulling his legs up onto the furniture. Dan’s eyes catch on his mis-matched socks, and he grins.
“Of course not!” Dan hurries to reassure him, even though he’s fairly sure that Phil isn’t even serious. “I actually… um, I think I really miss the whole human thing, sometimes.” He admits quietly, his eyes trained on the tv, so he can pretend that he isn’t invested in the conversation he’s just created.
He can tell he’s piqued Phil’s interest, as the other man sits up, turning his head to fully face Dan. “Yeah? Which parts do you miss?” He says this lowly, and Dan has to do a double take, but he’s almost positive that Phil is trying to be seductive in the way he’s biting his lip.
Smirking, Dan decides to tease him. “Are you flirting with me?” He asks, expecting Phil to blush and stutter his way out of it.
Phil shrugs, looking completely nonchalant. “I’m trying to,” he responds, his tongue poking through his teeth adorably.
Dan hadn’t expected the blunt answer, and he’s honestly stunned into silence for a moment. After recovering from his surprise, he slowly works out what the original point of the conversation was. “Well, on the topic of what I miss,” he starts, not missing the way Phil smirks slightly, clearly aware of how Dan tries to change the subject. “I miss human food. And sleep and…” He hesitates then, unsure if he should even finish that thought. Deciding there’s really nothing stopping him from being honest, he decides to just go for it. “And sex,” he rushes out all at once.
The smirk Phil had been wearing immediately falls from his face as he processes Dan’s words. “You haven’t… you haven’t had sex since you were Chosen?” Phil asks incredulously.
Dan startles at this. “No. You have?” It’s not like being an Angel really meant that you weren’t allowed the human perks, but Dan hadn’t met very many angels who actively participated in things like that. Although, it’s not like he was very popular with them when he was there anyway.
Phil ignores his second question, and Dan can’t decide if he’s relieved or not. “How long has it been? Like, since you were Chosen?”
Fidgeting with the rips in his jeans, Dan carefully avoids Phil’s gaze. “A while,” he whispers. He didn’t want to admit that, not only because of the context of why Phil was asking, but also because he hated thinking about how long it had been since he’d seen… well, he just didn’t want to think about it.
There’s a heavy silence that settles over them for a moment, but eventually Phil speaks quietly. “Did you have a preference, before?” He asks quietly, almost like he doesn’t want Dan to hear.
A little thrown off, Dan stumbles over his answer. “About what? The position I preferred?” He could feel his face flooding with heat, and although he generally wasn’t embarrassed discussing sex, he felt that maybe Phil was an exception.
“Oh, um, no! Er… I mean, yeah. I guess I want to know that too, but I just meant, like gender wise. Did you have a preference?” Phil sounds just as awkward as Dan feels then, and somehow that helps to balance out Dan’s embarrassment.
“No…” Dan shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “I um… kind of slept with anyone who’d sleep with me.”
“Oh,” Phil says softly, surprised.
“I’m sorry. If that… um… makes you uncomfortable or whatever.” The awkwardness is back, and Dan suddenly wonders if that’s how the whole entire visit is going to be.
“Of course not! I just had a different experience, I guess.” A cloudy look crosses Phil’s face then, and Dan can tell this topic might be a little more sensitive for Phil.
“Yeah?” Dan asks, moving his leg to press it against Phil’s in what he means to be a reassuring gesture. “What was your experience?”
Phil laughs then, and whatever unhappy emotion that had been clouding his thoughts seems to disappear, and Dan hates the way he feels so giddy to see the smile on Phil’s face reappear. “I preferred men, but it took me a really long time to come to terms with that, and I mean, even after I did, I didn’t really… I didn’t have the confidence to do much, before… well, you know.”
Hearing Phil say that he wasn’t very sexually active when he was alive honestly surprises Dan far more than he’s probably allowed for it to. “Really?” He asks, unable to contain his shock.
Phil rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised,” Phil says with a teasing tone in his voice.
Dan shakes his head then, slowly and thoughtfully. “But… I am!” He protests, gesturing his arm around wildly to try and express his surprise physically rather than just verbally. “You’re hot, Phil. I don’t know that there’s many pants you couldn’t get into.”
“Dan!” Phil near screeches, and even with the obnoxious volume, Dan can’t help the warmness he feels in his chest. He wouldn’t mind hearing his name yelled in that voice for a while. Maybe in several different contexts.
“What?” Dan tries to hide his laughter but isn’t very successful. “I’m a Fallen, Phil. I don’t have to be perfect.” He rolls his eyes with a grin, his voice light and joking.
Suddenly, Phil’s expression morphs from mildly horrified from Dan’s words to a little concerned, and maybe even sad. “Do you think that’s what’s expected of us?” He asks softly.
Dan shrugs, staring down at his hands, which are pulling on the strings of his jeans again. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation, but it looks like it’s going to be something he can’t avoid. “That’s what was expected of me,” he replies.
“Was it?” Phil inquires, tilting his head as he studies Dan.
“It felt that way,” Dan nods. “Do you even know what happened? Like, why I’m a Fallen now?” His tone is shifting, he can hear it, as he recalls the memories of what happened.
“No, you didn’t tell me,” Phil replies, looking confused. He probably doesn’t see that it has anything to do with their current conversation, and maybe it really doesn’t, but Dan feels that they’re connected.
“I… Tried to kill myself… after.” Dan’s tone is completely bitter now, and he can feel his skin itching with anger at recalling everything that had happened that day. “Like, after I was Chosen,” he elaborates when Phil just quirks a brow at him in confusion.
The expression on Phil’s face is completely mortified now, and honestly, Dan’s not very surprised. “You what?” Phil whispers, his eyes wide.
Dan drops his gaze again, unable to handle the pain in Phil’s expression. “I was so miserable,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s almost as if he thinks that keeping them quiet will keep them less true. “I was so young when I died, and everyone else was so damn holier than thou, and I just… I couldn’t do it.” His voice breaks at the end, and he can feel the wetness growing hot behind his eyes, his vision beginning to blur.
“Dan…” Phil chokes out, sounding on the verge of tears himself. Before Dan can even really process what’s happening, Phil pulls him into his lap, tugging Dan over his legs so that Dan’s straddling his lap. Without waiting for Dan to really protest it, Phil runs a hand through Dan’s curls, and tugs his head down to lay on his shoulder. Dan’s body is now wracking with sobs, and if he wasn’t so engulfed in the emotion, he’d be completely embarrassed that the first time he’d cried in years was in front of another person, and someone he really liked at that.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Dan repeats over and over like a mantra, trying to convince Phil that he isn’t as pathetic as what he seems. He can barely choke the words out though, so he’s fairly sure that it’s not working.
“Dan, hush. You have nothing to apologize for. You can’t help the way you feel, love.” Phil’s words are soothing, and Dan can feel himself growing calmer. It could be in part due to the soft, gentle way that Phil is petting his curls, a gentle pressure on his scalp when Phil lightly scratches his nails there. “Shh. Shh, now. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Phil murmurs soothing words against Dan’s hair, humming under his breath to calm him.
“I don’t want to feel this way,” Dan breathes against Phil’s throat, trying to keep his lips from pressing against the skin there. “I want to feel better.”
“I don’t want you to feel that way either, Dan. I want you to feel better. Do whatever you need to do to feel better, okay? If crying is what you need, then I’m going to sit right here with you while you get it out.” Phil speaks against his curls, his voice slightly muffled, but Dan’s chest constricts with the words.
“Whatever I need to do to feel better?” Dan echoes, inching his face slightly closer to Phil’s neck. He knows he doesn’t need to- there are boundaries, of course, but-
“Yeah, of course, I hate seeing you cry,” Phil says quietly. “What- oh,” he squeaks, stiffening beneath Dan when Dan’s lips make contact with his throat.
Dan is slow with his movements, he very gently kisses the spot his lips have met, and only after Phil’s rigid posture has relaxed does he move to do anything further. He parts his lips and gently sucks the skin into his mouth, suckling without doing it too hard. Phil shivers beneath him, and Dan pulls away just enough to speak. “This okay?” He whispers.
Phil gasps softly, nodding quickly. “It’s fine, but… I…” He swallows when Dan reattaches his lips, and the sensation is weird, but Dan is unbothered, and only snuggles in further as he leaves a mark on Phil’s neck. “Can I make you feel better?” He breathes, and before Dan can ask what he means, Phil rolls his hips up, causing Dan’s bulge to grow in his jeans.
“Yes, god, please,” Dan mumbles, licking the mark he’d just left on Phil’s neck before shifting back.
“Lay back,” Phil whispers, helping Dan slide off his lap to lay back on the sofa. Dan’s heart is racing, and he catches a glimpse of the tv, still left on the title screen of the anime they’d wanted to watch. He nearly giggles at it, but then Phil is moving to hover over him, settling in the space between Dan’s legs when he parts them. “If you want me to stop, at any time and for any reason, you have to tell me, okay?” He breathes against Dan’s lips.
Dan nods frantically. “I will, just-“
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Phil’s lips are connecting with his then, pressing softly at first, but growing more insistent when he is met with enthusiasm. Dan’s hands fist at the back of Phil’s shirt, trying to draw him in even closer as their mouths work together. Feeling bold, Dan slowly traces Phil’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, silently requesting entrance. He’s granted it, and Phil allows him to explore with seemingly no problem, and Dan feels one of his hands petting his hair while the other one trails down Dan’s front. He has an idea of where it’s headed, and that only makes his excitement grow.
Sure enough, Phil begins fiddling with the button and zipper of Dan’s jeans, unfastening them as well as he can with one hand. “Bloody hell,” Phil mumbles against his mouth.
Dan giggles. “Fuckin’ jeans, eh?”
Phil snorts in response, finally undoing the fastenings keeping him from Dan’s cock. “Wanna suck you, can I?”
Dan’s eyes roll back in pleasure, and he groans out a response. “Please, and thank you for asking,” he mumbles out hurriedly.
A giggle falls out of Phil’s mouth then, and Dan leans up to capture anymore sounds, bringing a hand to the hair at the back of Phil’s head to hold him in place gently.
“Alright, let me blow you,” Phil eventually whispers against his lips.
“Not stoppin’ you,” Dan mumbles.
“You’re being distracting,” Phil laughs. He shuffles down the sofa, his lips getting further and further away from Dan’s. But Dan isn’t going to complain, since he’s getting closer to another thing Dan is excited for him to touch.
They both fall into silence, filled with heavy panting as Phil tugs Dan’s jeans down. They’re so tight that his pants come with them, and finally his cock is free from the restraining fabric. “God,” he mumbles.
“Not my name,” Phil mutters as he works on tugging Dan’s jeans and pants completely off, tossing them to the floor carelessly. “Fuck, Dan,” he breathes, nuzzling back in between Dan’s legs and bringing a hand up to wrap around Dan’s length. “Look so good for me.”
Dan’s head tosses back, cracking against the arm of the sofa, making him wince. “Don’t talk like that, or I’ll finish in like negative two seconds,” he snaps without malice.
Phil snickers, but before Dan can reprimand him for that, he’s wrapping his lips around the head of Dan’s dick, suckling gently. Dan can’t help but buck his hips up a little, having gone without this for so long, but apologies immediately fall from his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, won’t do it again, swear.”
“It’s fine, you’re fine, love.” Phil’s hand that isn’t wrapped around the base of Dan’s cock moves up to find Dan’s hand, and he intertwines their fingers as his eyes stare up at Dan innocently. “Let me take care of you.”
Dan nods, swallowing hard as he looks down at the scene before him. It’s undeniably the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his human life or his afterlife, which is probably sad, but he couldn’t care less. He’s being sucked off by the hottest Angel he’d ever met, and probably the hottest human, so he was allowed to think that it was the best thing that had happened to him. “Thank you,” Dan breathes as Phil begins moving his mouth, hollowing his cheeks on every upstroke, his hand following his mouth to help spread his saliva along Dan’s length. At Dan’s words, Phil only squeezes his hand gently.
It doesn’t take long for Dan to start losing what little control he had over himself, and eventually his hips are bucking up of their own accord, but Phil doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. If anything, his encouraging hums and moans seem to indicate that he’s enjoying it just as much. The noises he makes are definitely helping, the vibrations a heavenly feeling against Dan’s cock.
“Close,” Dan whispers eventually, reaching a hand down to tug softly at Phil’s hair so he’d know to pull off.
He does, but only for a moment. “Can go in my mouth, it’s fine,” he gasps out before going right back down on Dan.
The words send a flurry of heat to Dan’s stomach, where he can already feel his muscles tightening as his release approaches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles. “Phil, I-“ whatever praise he was about to give the man is lost as Dan’s orgasm tears through him, white hot and euphoric. Phil never stops moving his hand, his mouth suctioned around the top to catch Dan’s load as he comes down his throat. Something about the intimacy of that action just makes him feel even more turned on, if it’s even possible.
As soon as he feels himself finish, Dan slumps, his vision blurry and dark. He’s not even aware of Phil pulling away and tugging his pants back up his legs to cover him up. It takes Phil a moment to realize how out of it he is, and only then does Dan start to come back around. “Dan? Dan! Are you okay?” Phil calls frantically, gently shaking Dan’s shoulder with one hand as the other hand flutters around his face, checking for a temperature or something, Dan’s not sure.
“’M fine, just tired,” Dan mumbles. It’s true, but part of it is just that he hadn’t felt this kind of relief in a long time, and it was more than just a little overwhelming.
Phil laughs softly, but then brings his mouth back up to Dan’s, pressing his lips gently to the brunette’s. Dan tries to deepen the kiss, but Phil pulls away. “I swallowed, remember?” He says, sounding a little uncertain.
Dan shrugs, tugging on Phil’s shirt until he leans down again. “Don’t care,” he mumbles against Phil’s lips. They settle into the kiss and Dan can taste himself on Phil’s tongue when he gently opens his mouth, but after a moment, Phil pulls away again.
“Are you going to stay tonight?” He asks gently, stroking a finger down Dan’s face.
“Do you want me to?” Dan asks in surprise.
“I want you to want to stay with me. I don’t want to tell you what to do,” Phil admits, glancing down at his hands.
Dan can’t have Phil looking at him like that after everything they’d just done, so he quickly reaches up and grabs Phil’s chin, brushing a finger across Phil’s lips as he does. “I want to. I’d like that a lot,” he tells him, before really even considering what all that would entail.
But the way Phil’s face brightens just cements that it’s the right decision for Dan, and so he doesn’t even think about being regretful. “Okay. I’ll go get us some pajamas,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Dan’s lips again before getting up and leaving the lounge.
A little dazed, and more than a little unsure about what he’s meant to do now, Dan shifts on the sofa, trying to decide if he should actually stay or not. He’s never done that; when he was human he was a “love them and leave them” kinda guy, so he wasn’t entirely sure how this was supposed to work. He’s suddenly full of a burning anxiety that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he can feel the itch under his skin as the uncomfortable feeling settles in.
“Hang on a sec, I’m trying to find a T-shirt for you,” Phil calls from somewhere down the hall, probably where his bedroom is. “Unless you’d rather sleep without a shirt?”
Dan knows he has to make a split decision then. Making as little noise as possible, Dan moves out of the lounge and tugs his shoes on silently. He can still hear Phil moving around, and he knows that he’s probably about to call out again to ask about the pajama situation, which means he only has a few minutes to leave without being noticed. He pauses, breathes out a quiet apology under his breath, and then ducks out the door, closing it silently behind him as he goes.
He hesitates for only a moment, listening closely to see if Phil had noticed that he was gone. When he heard no indication of the sorts, Dan slowly trekked down the hall, biting the inside of his cheeks as guilty tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t stay, though, he just couldn’t. Because regardless of how Phil lived his afterlife, they weren’t human. And since the future Dan had stretched on into infinity, he knew it would only hurt that much more for Phil to leave him once he’d let himself get attached. So, in order to avoid that kind of pain, Dan would just have to avoid getting attached. Even if it made him convulse with guilt, he would walk out of this building and go back to his old routine, devoid of any and all interaction, human and nonhuman alike.
And that was fine. Dan liked it that way. He would be fine. Really.
~~~
Months pass slowly, slower than they’ve ever passed for Dan, and he finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had some sort of reprieve from the same routine. He was so tired of it, so beyond sick of the way he felt when he moved on to a new place, never sleeping or eating, only moving and observing the lives of humans he would never really know unfold in front of him. It was, for lack of a better word, lonely. And for the first time in a long time, Dan found himself hating that feeling with every fiber of his being.
It wasn’t like it was a new feeling; it was one he was quite accustomed to, but suddenly the lack of a certain blue eyed male in his life was bringing him to dread the days with a passion he hadn’t in years. In short, he was miserable.
That’s probably why he found himself here today, in a place he hadn’t visited in close to a decade. There was no point, really, not even today, but for some reason he found it somewhat therapeutic to return to this particular spot.
He moves between the granite stones silently and gracefully, a trait he’d been blessed with as an Angel, and one that for some reason hadn’t been taken from him when he’d been cast out. Really, other than the wings and the status symbol, he didn’t feel that he was missing out on much there. But perhaps being the only Fallen didn’t offer any great rewards either, which made him question why he was even Chosen in the first place. It made his head hurt to think about, but if everything was a part of a big plan, then shouldn’t it have been known what he would try to do to himself? Couldn’t they have helped? He didn’t suppose he’d ever get the answers to those questions.
Eventually, after what feels like a long time travelling on foot through the grass that desperately needed to be cut, Dan finds what he’s looking for. The stone is rough and worn, and completely blank. He doesn’t need etchings on a rock to tell him what he already knows, though. He settles himself on the grass right on top of the grave, carrying little about things like cemetery etiquette right now.
“Hi,” he says to the stone, uncaring about his volume as he’s Concealed right now, and it shouldn’t even matter. “I see they have yet to put something on this fucking rock. You’d think eventually they’d put something. “John Smith” would be better than staring at a blank slate,” Dan grumbles to himself. He tilts his head then, staring down at the grass crawling up the corroding marble. “I guess I don’t suit the name “John Smith” though, do I?” he ponders aloud.
Of course, he’s not actually expecting a response, so when he hears a voice off to his right, he jumps. “No, I don’t think you do, actually.”
Dan whips his head around so fast he’s almost certain he’d have broken it as a human. Unsurprisingly, the voice belongs to exactly who he hoped it didn’t, but considering the fucking joke his entire life was, he wasn’t all that surprised. He feels his throat go dry as he stares at Phil, who is sat casually atop one of the taller and wider gravestones a few meters away. He’s wearing all black today, much like Dan, and for some reason the image seems all wrong in Dan’s head. The brightness that Phil seems to naturally exude is still there, obviously, but somehow it seems dimmer with the clothes, and Dan wishes he was wearing all white again, pure and happy and the complete opposite of everything that Dan represents.
Before Dan even has the chance to ask what Phil was doing there, the blue eyed man uncrosses his legs and stands, taking a few steps closer as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I kinda figured I’d find you here,” he says casually, the usual smile on his face completely gone in favor for a blank look.
Dan swallows hard. “Why were you looking?” He asks when his throat no longer feels bone dry.
Phil quirks an eyebrow at him, the rest of his face unmoving. “Are we back to this?”
“Back to what?” Dan says, his voice sounding petulant even to his own ears.
“Daniel. Come off it.” Phil’s voice leaves little room for argument or any of Dan’s usual nonsense.
Dan’s eyes find the ground, and his hands drop down to tug at the grass, just to give himself something to do that isn’t confront Phil. “Did you come here to be rude to me?” Dan asks, his voice unintentionally soft. “Because I don’t need that, Phil, I really don’t.”
He hears Phil sigh, and then his head is snapping up in surprise when Phil lowers himself to the grass across from him, mirroring Dan’s position. “No, Dan. Of course I didn’t,” Phil says gently, giving Dan a small, concerned frown. “I just… I came here because I…” He seems at a loss for words, his face morphing into a grimace as he drops his gaze to his hands, which are grasping the grass like Dan’s. “I came because I want you to not be alone.” The words come out as an almost whisper, and Dan doesn’t miss the pain in his voice.
Dan’s guilt about leaving Phil’s flat without saying anything several months ago comes back tenfold, and he cringes when he thinks about how hurt Phil must have been, and apparently still is. He hates himself for causing that pain, he really does.
But then he has a moment to process Phil’s words, and somehow he’s able to wipe away the guilty feeling when a rush of anger floods into his veins. He clenches his fists around the blades of grass under his hands, tugging hard and pulling them out of the ground with the chunks of dirt still attached. Carelessly, and without considering how rude it would be if it were any other grave, he slings them directly at the headstone barely two inches to Phil’s left.
Phil jumps, his eyes going wide as he glances at where the clump of dirt had hit, the impact splitting it into a million little pieces. His gaze slowly moves back to Dan, and his eyebrows furrow as he takes in the almost bored look that’s probably covering Dan’s face now. “Dan-?” Phil’s voice lilts up as if it’s a question, but Dan cuts him off.
“Did you know that I was murdered?” There is no emotion in Dan’s voice, nothing there except a hollow sense of detachment.
The look on Phil’s face jumps from concerned to horrified within seconds. It’s almost comical, but Dan doesn’t laugh. “What?” He whispers out, and even with the space between them, Dan can see his eyes gloss over with tears.
Dan nods, looking past Phil to the headstone. “Yeah. Couldn’t even identify my body.” He laughs bitterly then, his gaze hardening as it settles on Phil’s still-shocked face. “I was buried in a cemetery far from my family, in a plot all by myself.”
“Dan…” Phil breathes out, his voice strained with emotion that Dan doesn’t want to hear right now.
“No,” Dan shakes his head vehemently, moving to stand. He suddenly feels suffocated with Phil’s presence and the pity in his eyes, and he needs space. “Don’t you see? I’m always going to be alone, Phil. I’ve always been alone, and that’s exactly how it’s always going to be,” Dan speaks quickly and insistently, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, completely shrinking in on himself.
Phil’s gaze suddenly darkens, and he stands quickly, stepping towards Dan with purpose. His movements startle Dan, and he stumbles backwards, only just catching himself before tripping over another stone. So much for grace. Whatever pity that had been harbored in Phil’s gaze is gone, wiped away to be replaced by something closer to anger. Over what, Dan had no idea.
“No, Dan. You isolate yourself. You,” He spits the word, and Dan feels his mouth drop open in surprise. Not that he knew Phil particularly well, but he hadn’t seen him like this, and it was something he wasn’t so sure he even wanted to see. “You isolate yourself because that’s what you want. Maybe it wasn’t like that when you were alive, but you have choices now, Daniel. You can choose the people in your life, but you don’t even try to, because you like being alone, you thrive off the idea of being on your own, but at what fucking cost? Is it worth it? Being so lonely?” Phil is speaking fast, and loud, louder than he’d ever spoken to Dan. It was almost frightening, in a way that things you don’t expect in settings you’re not comfortable in are.
“I-“ Dan begins to defend himself, though he has no idea what he’s even going to say. As much as he hates it, Phil wasn’t entirely wrong.
“No. That’s exactly what you’re doing, and I want you, I do, but I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself because you’re too afraid to let yourself be loved.” Phil’s words ring with finality, and he lets out a breath as if he’s finished.
“You don’t…” Dan flounders for the right words. “You don’t love me. You barely know me,” he gasps out finally, his brain caught on the four letter word, tossing it around his skull like a tennis ball.
Phil’s gaze softens considerably then, as he takes a step closer to Dan. “I could. If you’d let me,” he whispers softly, his words just barely meeting Dan’s ears around the rushing of blood he can hear in his panic.
“I…” Dan stumbles over his words, completely at a loss for how to respond to that. “I think you should go. I can’t- I don’t-“ he knows he isn’t as articulate as he normally is right now, but he can’t help it. He feels that he’s been completely blindsided by this conversation, and he needs a moment. Or perhaps a lot of moments, away from Phil, and this cemetery, to process it.
Phil’s face crumples, and Dan is certain he can feel his heart breaking at the sight. “I know,” he sighs out. “I don’t… I’m sorry, Dan. I want to…” he sighs again, clearly struggling. “I want to be the person who makes you happy, but I can’t do that if you aren’t happy with yourself.”
“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Dan replies weakly, barely any force behind his words.
A soft smile settles on Phil’s lips then. “You’re right. You don’t. That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to want someone.” His words give Dan a reason to pause, and before he has a chance to fully process them, Phil steps closer still, brushing his lips along Dan’s cheekbone with a featherlight touch. “Bye, Dan,” he breathes before stepping away.
Dan has little choice but to watch him leave then, staring after him with a heavy heart, and eyes that are brimming with wetness. He doesn’t even torture himself with watching Phil’s figure grow smaller the further away he gets, instead dropping down to his knees over his own grave. He doesn’t try to stop himself as the tears start flowing, and the sobs that wrack his body are loud and echoing in the otherwise serene quiet of the cemetery. It feels ridiculously therapeutic to just let out all the pent up emotion, but he has to admit that it feels like a shitty deal, to be immortal for all intents and purposes, and yet still plagued with stupidly human feelings and emotions.
An indeterminable amount of time passes as he kneels there, crying until the skin around his eyes are raw and he feels completely drained. He’d never really craved human food since being Chosen, but he’s positive he could go for a nice tall glass of water right about now, even though he knows he doesn’t actually need it to replenish himself. Crying that hard and for that long had taken a lot out of him, and if he actually had somewhere to go, he’d probably even sleep, for the first time in years.
When he manages to calm himself down, he takes a moment to just think over the things that Phil had said. He was right, on almost every level. Dan was always alone, but in a way, it was his own fault. Phil had tried, so hard, to be there for him, and Dan just left like it hadn’t mattered. The only problem was is that it had and he desperately wished that Phil knew how much that evening meant to him, how much he regretted leaving the way he did.
And maybe it was wild and foolish of him but dying had taught him a lot about time and how precious it really is, and regardless of how or when they met, he felt that maybe for the first time he’d found someone who he could like, although he dared not think further than that. It hurt enough just to think about how much he truly wanted Phil in the first place, he didn’t need to add to the pain by thinking about what could become of them in the future, depending on whether or not he got his shit together.
And maybe it was a bad time to do it, perhaps he should have worked on himself and his flaws as a human, but as it was, he was no longer alive, and he had to work with what he had. And what he had was a beautiful, kind, gentle man who wanted him, wanted to be with him, and he wasn’t so sure that he was willing to let that go.
So without any consideration about what Phil might think, Dan stands and makes his way out of the cemetery, with every intention of showing up at Phil’s door and begging for a do-over. He didn’t deserve it, but he desperately wanted it, and begging was just another thing he wasn’t afraid of getting on his knees for. No matter how embarrassed it might make him to admit that he was wrong, he would do it, because maybe some things are worth fighting for, and maybe this would be one of them. He desperately hoped it was, because he didn’t think he could handle the heartbreak that came with yet another let down.
~~~
Dan finds the apartment with little difficulty, considering he’d only been there a few months ago, but he was still a little uncertain if it was the right door number after he’d knocked several times, only to be met with silence. He was shifting nervously out in the hallway, his eyes cast down as he waited impatiently for the door to open. He wasn’t concealed this time, as he knew from experience that security cameras could pick up the interactions he had with the physical world when he was, and there was nothing that scared humans more than unexplained movement of objects on shitty camera footage.
He waited for a few more moments before raising his fist to knock again, embarrassed at how much noise he was probably causing right now. He hoped Phil didn’t have nosey neighbors, or if he did then hopefully they were out right now.
After another few moments of futile knocking, Dan decides that Phil just isn’t home right now. He had assumed that he’d have come straight here, and that’s basically what Dan had done, using his helpful little flying trick to get there faster. Still, he knew he couldn’t have beaten Phil there, so hopefully he was just out living his quasi-human life and would be back later. Resigned to this idea, Dan settles on the floor just outside his door, leaning back against the wood with a sigh.
He had no idea how long it would be until Phil returned, but he decided to settle in for a while, moving until he feels properly comfortable on the floor. Deciding that he probably won’t be back for a while, Dan allows his eyes to drift shut, promising himself that he’d just rest them for a moment.
The last thought he has before he falls into unconsciousness is that it would be well embarrassing if he were to still be asleep when Phil returned.
~~~
“Dan,” a voice says from somewhere up above, exasperated but confused. “Dan, wake up, you’re blocking my door.”
Dan groans as he stretches out, his hand hitting something with a loud thud. Pain shoots up his arm at the feeling, and he whimpers. “Wha?” He mumbles when he hears the voice speak again, struggling to blink his eyes open properly.
When he does, it barely takes him a minute to figure where he is, and why. Suddenly, he’s very awake, and he sits up quickly, looking around at his surroundings before his eyes settle on the man in front of him. He has to crane his neck back a little to meet the questioning gaze, but when he does, he feels nothing but inexplicable relief in his veins.
“Hey,” Phil says, confusion lacing his tone.
“Hi,” Dan responds with a croak, his voice feeling severely underused. He clears his throat and wonders idly just how long he’s been sitting there asleep. He struggles to remember what day it was when he showed up at Phil’s flat, and he thinks he’s almost positive that it was a Monday.
“How long have you been here?” Phil asks quietly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he stares down at Dan, a confused and guarded expression on his face.
Dan sits up slowly, a little relieved that other than some soreness, he feels fine. Thank fuck for immortal bodies, he supposed. “Um… Not sure? Since um… since we were at the cemetery together? I came here a few hours after that…”
Phil’s eyes widen then, although he backs up to give Dan some space when he stands. “That was…” he seems to consider it for a moment. “That was almost a week ago, Dan.” He sounds disbelieving, and honestly Dan can’t blame him. Dan was shocked himself that he’d managed to lay there asleep for that long. Something else piques his interest then, and he can’t help but ask.
“Why were you gone for so long?” He asks softly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he awkwardly tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
He doesn’t miss the way Phil stiffens in front of him. “I needed to get away from here for a while. I was… I was kind of a mess after… you know.” Dan nods at this, chewing on his lips as he tries to decide the best way to say what was on his mind. Before he gets the chance, Phil’s speaking again. “Why are you here, Dan?”
The bluntness of his question startles Dan a little, but he tries not to let it sting. He really did deserve it, if he was being completely honest. “I wanted to see you,” he says honestly, finally raising his gaze to meet Phil’s.
Phil quirks an eyebrow at him as if he doesn’t believe him. “Yeah?” He says. When Dan nods, he copies the action before moving to step closer to his door. “Well, you’ve seen me, so…” He trails off, as if waiting for Dan to get the hint and leave.
The hint was received, and while it hurt a little to hear that Phil didn’t seem to want anything to do with him, Dan had already convinced himself that he wanted this, and he was going to do his best to see it through. He takes a deep breath before stepping in Phil’s way. “I want to try again,” He says firmly, staring Phil dead in the eyes.
Phil nearly drops his keys. “What?” He asks, sounding bewildered.
Dan tries not to smile at the surprise. “I know I basically ruined things already, but I’m sorry. I…” He hesitates then, a little nervous to be so openly vulnerable with someone so new to his life. He catches the questioning glimpse in Phil’s gaze, and he knows, he just knows that this is a person who is going to accept him, no matter what comes out of his mouth next. “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he whispers, almost as if he’s afraid of the words.
If Phil had seemed surprised before, it’s nothing compared to the expression that colors his face now. He seems to be at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing several times before he seems to settle on something to say. “Do you want some tea?” He asks, still sounding stunned.
Dan smiles at this, and he can feel his dimple caving in. The way Phil’s gaze darts down to it is obvious, and Dan wishes he could see Phil’s answering smile all the time. “I’d love some tea,” he replies easily.
Phil nods, and Dan steps aside so he can unlock the door and lead him inside. “I’m sorry you had to wait out there by yourself for so long. I needed to cool off, so I was in New York for a few days.” Phil rattles off an explanation as they toe their shoes off by the door before heading to the kitchen.
Something tightens in Dan’s chest at the idea that he was the reason that Phil needed a break, but he knows that if he wants this to work, the guilt and self-loathing have no place in his life anymore. “Did it help?” He asks gently, interested in the answer.
Phil hesitates from where he’s pouring water into a kettle, and his eyes flicker over to Dan momentarily. “I don’t know yet,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to the task at hand. “I think it depends on what exactly you came here to say.” He sounds nervous as he says it, and Dan’s chest tightens at the idea that he’s the reason that this man sounds so apprehensive right now.
Dan takes a deep breath then, as it’s clear that Phil’s giving him an opportunity to spill his guts. He plans to do just that, but he needs a moment to breathe first. He waits until Phil has turned around to face him before stepping closer with a smile. He stops when there’s only about a foot between them, trying not to overstep any boundaries that Phil may have built up since the last time they were intimate, which he undoubtedly had.
“I thought a lot about what you said, and… well, you were right. About pretty much all of it.” Dan lets out a little laugh then, and he can’t quite help the bitterness in his tone.
“Dan, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ Phil starts, his face flooded with an apologetic look.
Dan cuts him off then with a wave of his hand. “No, really, Phil. I think I needed to hear it, in like a weird way. If you hadn’t told me my problem, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
Phil tilts his head then, looking at Dan with a look of almost fondness in his eyes. “Yeah? And why are you here?” He prompts gently.
Taking another deep breath, Dan closes his eyes. He feels it’ll be easier to admit the truth if he can’t see the object of his affections. “I have feelings for you, and I know we don’t know each other very well, but I want you too. If you’ll still have me, that is.” He opens one eye to assess Phil’s reaction as soon as he rushes the words out, and as soon as he sees the expression on Phil’s face, he forgets why he’d even been worried.
The smile on Phil’s face is heartwarming, and Dan just wants to kiss him. He wonders if that’s a thing he’s allowed to do now, but he knows he needs to wait and see if that’s what Phil wants too. “You think you could say that again?” Phil asks quietly, stepping closer to Dan and bringing a hand up to his neck, his thumb stroking along his jawline in a soft caress. “I want you to say it again,” Phil whispers, bringing his lips closer to Dan’s and gently brushing them with his own. Dan’s eyes slip closed on their own accord, but Phil pulls away slightly. “With your eyes open,” he finishes, his blue eyes intense as they lock with Dan’s.
Dan swallows hard at the demand. Slowly, so that Phil doesn’t startle, he brings his hands up and gently cradles Phil’s face, stroking his thumbs across his cheekbones. “I have feelings for you,” he repeats. “I want you to still want me, because I want you. I want you in every way,” Dan’s voice drops lower then, and he brushes his lips near Phil’s teasingly. “Please,” he breathes against the soft skin.
He can feel Phil’s resolve crumbling, as the hand not on his body yet moves up to fist Dan’s shirt, while the other one tugs him closer. Phil doesn’t even respond with words, he just pulls Dan closer, pressing their lips together with a passion that Dan matches, his own hands slipping down to cup Phil’s throat. The sounds of their lips smacking apart echoes in the kitchen, and Dan can feel himself growing in his pants as the kiss grows more heated, and he knows what way he wants this night to end, but he can’t have that unless it’s what Phil wants, too.
“Do you want me?” Dan breathes against Phil’s lips when they pull apart for air.
“Yes,” Phil gasps, shifting so that his hips press into Dan’s, proving to him what they can do for each other. “Please,” he responds then.
“Yeah? Can we-“ he starts, shifting to try and move out of the kitchen.
Phil doesn’t seem to like this idea, because he just tugs on Dan’s shirt, dragging him back into another kiss. Dan responds, but he’s smiling too hard to continue, making it next to impossible for their lips to stay connected. “I want-“ Dan begins when he pulls away yet again. He drops his hands to Phil’s belt loops and tugs to grind against him. “Can we go to your room? Please?” He requests breathlessly.
“Fuck,” Phil breathes out, his eyes closing as his head drops back a little. “Yeah, c’mon.”
He begins to lead the way out of the kitchen, but Dan quickly steps away and shuts the kettle off, sending Phil a smirk when he smiles sheepishly. “In a hurry, Philip?” Dan teases with a grin.
Phil shrugs, grabbing Dan’s hand and tugging him down the hall. “I have some other things on my mind,” he says with a shrug, shoving open his bedroom door and dropping Dan’s hand to tug his shirt off.
Dan watches as the fabric gets tossed to the side, mesmerized until he realizes what’s expected of him. He blushes slightly when he sees the soft gaze that Phil is studying him with, but quickly tugs off the t-shirt he has on, tossing it away carelessly. “Is this-“ he begins, a familiar panic settling in as he starts overthinking.
“This is fine, Dan. Everything is fine. You want this, yeah?” Phil asks, coming over to drop his hands to Dan’s hips, stroking the skin above his jeans with gentle fingertips.
Dan nods, sighing when he feels Phil’s lips meet his forehead, trailing down to his temple and across his cheekbones before moving to the other side and tracing the same path. Eventually his lips find Dan’s and it’s calming in a way that something so new really shouldn’t be, but for some reason it doesn’t feel new exactly, it feels more like coming home after a long trip, and Dan is drowning in the feeling. “I want you,” He breathes against Phil’s lips when they separate.
“Yeah?” Phil murmurs. “And I want you. So, we’re fine, love. I’ve got you, and we’re fine.” He kisses Dan again before moving back a little. “Do you want to do it proper this time?” He asks, and Dan gets what he means without having to actually ask.
Dan swallows hard, trying to get rid of his nerves. “Yes,” he breathes against Phil’s skin, dropping his face into the crook of Phil’s neck where he can trail kisses there.
Phil groans and tilts his head to give him better access, but it doesn’t last long before he’s pulling away and dropping his hands to Dan’s jeans. “You first? Or me?” He asks quietly. Dan’s heart flutters at how careful Dan is being to make this a good experience for him. It’s endearing in the best possible way.
“Me,” Dan replies, his length hardening at the idea of Phil being almost fully clothed while he’s vulnerable like that. Something about it is ridiculously hot to him. Phil only nods before he starts working on pulling Dan’s jeans off.
A few minutes and only a little struggling with the stubbornly tight fabric later, Dan’s jeans are on the floor, joined by his pants, leaving him standing bare in front of Phil. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it could have been, since Phil had already seen him, but it still gave him a thrill.
“So beautiful,” Phil breathes, pressing his lips to Dan’s shoulder before his hands start working at his own jeans. Dan has another brief flash of panic, wondering if it’s too much too soon, but when he voices this fear to Phil in a quiet whisper, the other man only laughs. “No, love. We’re immortal, remember? We’ve got all the time in the world, literally, to learn every nuance of each other’s personalities. I think we get a free pass.”
And that does it for Dan, he’s able to push the guilt at the situation out of his mind and instead watch eagerly as Phil throws his jeans across the room. He hesitates for only a moment, his eyes flickering up to Dan’s before he tugs the pants off and they join his jeans somewhere. Dan’s a simple man, so when he has a cock in front of him, he’s obviously going to look, and in this case, he hopes touch.
Phil is a little longer and thicker than him, and Dan can already tell it’s going to be a great night. Unable to help himself, he drops to his knees and opens his mouth, waiting for Phil to get the hint. His blue eyes widen comically when he sees Dan’s actions, and he seems to be at a loss for words at first.
“Jesus, Dan,” Phil swallows hard. “You look so fucking…” He doesn’t finish, because Dan is tugging on his hand before reaching up and wrapping a hand around his length as soon as he’s close enough. “Not much teasing, or I’ll finish too soon,” Phil warns as Dan wraps his lips around the head of Phil’s cock, suckling gently as he winks up at Phil to indicate he’d heard his instructions.
Ever the good boy, Dan is careful not to go too hard on the blowjob, knowing that it was very likely that Phil might actually come to soon if he were to enact some of his usual tricks. Eventually, though, he pulls away and looks up at Phil with a curious smile. “Lube?” He asks, biting his lip as he waits for the answer.
Phil nods before gesturing to the bedside table. “Second drawer,” He mumbles as Dan rises and moves over to collect what they needed. Phil moves to sit at the edge of the bed, watching Dan with what he assumes is a fond smile.
When Dan settles onto the bed, he places the bottle of lube on the mattress between them. “Do you want to do it, or watch me?” He asks, keeping a hand on it in case he wanted to watch.
A hungry look is on Phil’s face as he takes the bottle. “I want to. Lay back, love.” Dan follows his instructions, and soon Phil has a lubed-up finger at his entrance. “Good?” He asks, pressing a kiss to Dan’s thigh. Dan nods. Phil wastes no more time as he begins stretching Dan open, scissoring his fingers in a way that should honestly be illegal. Dan can’t help the little whimpers that keep falling from his lips, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
Eventually, Phil seems to decide he’s finished, and pulls his fingers out slowly, causing Dan to whine loudly. “Phil.”
“Hush,” Phil laughs, pressing a kiss to Dan’s knee, which is propped up close to Phil’s face. “Are you ready?” He asks, lining himself up as his eyes bore into Dan’s seriously.
Dan slowly nods, taking stock of himself. He wasn’t used to being fucked while he was on his back, and especially not face to face like this, so he was trying to wrap his head around it and convince himself that he wasn’t trapped. “I’m ready,” He mumbles when Phil seems a little hesitant to start.
Phil nods then, and slowly he begins pressing in, letting out little sighs as he works in inch after inch of himself. “Feel so good,” Phil mumbles. He sounds blissed out already, and while that makes Dan happy, he can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. It’s his silence or rigidness that gives him away, and Phil pauses as he opens his eyes to study him. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, brushing his lips against Dan’s temple.
Dan nods, then shakes his head just as fast. “No,” he gasps out, trying not to freak out. “Feel… I’m trapped. Feel trapped,” he stutters out eventually.
Phil looks surprised, but nods and pulls out, sitting back to give Dan some space. “Do we need to stop?” He asks, concern coloring his face. He doesn’t look remotely annoyed at the pause, just concerned for Dan’s wellbeing. The thought almost makes Dan smile.
“No, just…” Dan sits up then, moving to the side of the bed. “Maybe need a new angle,” he says in lieu of explanation, swinging one leg over Phil’s hips and settling himself over him. His hand reaches back to find Phil’s cock, guiding it to his entrance with deft fingers. “Ah,” he moans out as he begins settling down on it, taking a little more in with each controlled bounce. “This is-“ he stops, sucking in a breath at the drag inside him. “Better, this is better,” he gasps out.
“Fuck, Dan,” Phil swears beneath him, his eyes clouded over with lust as he looks up at him. “Look so good like this, fuck.”
Dan smiles down at him. “Am I pretty like this?” He asks, his mouth just running away from him at the pleasure he’s feeling.
Phil’s gaze softens at this. “You’re beautiful, Dan. Absolutely gorgeous.”
The praise makes Dan’s cheeks flush with color, but then Phil is letting out little whines as his bounces become more even and the pace is smoother, and Dan can’t help but grin with pride. He did that.
He doesn’t have much time to gloat though, because when he leans forward a little to say something dirty to Phil, the head of his cock brushes against that little bundle of nerves that lights his body on fire in the best way possible. “Fuck!” He cries out. Without his conscious consent, his wings expand at the feeling, and he doesn’t have the concentration to will them away at the moment.
“Oh shit,” Phil whimpers beneath him. Dan drops his gaze down, thinking he might be in pain or something, but Phil’s gaze is locked on the ebony sheen of Dan’s wings. “That’s so hot,” he breathes out, his hand reaching up as if to touch them. He startles then, as if he hadn’t realized he was even doing it, and his gaze darts up to Dan as he retracts his hand a bit. His mouth opens in what Dan expects is an apology, but Dan is having none of it.
“Here,” he breathes, taking Phil’s hands and guiding them to the smooth feathers covering the wide expanse of wings. “I like-“ he chokes on his words when Phil begins running his fingers against the feathers, running his fingers against them rather than in the direction they grow. The sensation is unreal, and Dan shivers. “That, fuck, like that,” he whines.
“Yeah?” Phil breathes, doing it again. “This good?” He asks as he continues doing it, shifting his feet up to help press his hips up to meet Dan’s with his bounces.
“Yeah, just-“ Dan cuts himself on with a moan when Phil lands a particularly well-aimed thrust into his prostate. “Tug,” he moans out. “Just, like, lightly tug on them. Feels good.”
Phil does as he’s asked without question, but Dan can tell how apprehensive he is. It didn’t particularly feel great to have the feathers of your wings plucked or tugged out, but honestly it just added to the sensation here, in his mind. “Good?” Phil breathes.
Dan nods, then starts shaking his head frantically. “Perfect, it’s perfect,” he whines out, bouncing without inhibition.
With Phil tugging gently on the feathers and his every thrust hitting Dan in all the right places, it doesn’t take Dan long to release. When he does, he still, his wings retracting away from Phil’s fingers with the overstimulation as he rides out his orgasm. He lets out a string of words, and he’s sure that some of them were Phil’s name, sprinkled in with a collection of colorful swears. He squeezes around Phil, rotating his hips in tight circles to help him get off. It doesn’t take long before he feels Phil tense up beneath him, his mouth dropping open as he releases inside Dan.
They take a moment to catch their breath and calm down before collapsing against the bed, Dan sliding off Phil’s cock easily as he slumps onto the mattress. Their quiet for a few minutes, before Phil rolls over and studies Dan with a sweet, blissed-out smile. “Was that okay?” He asks, sounding a little nervous for the answer.
Dan rolls his eyes at the ridiculous question. “God, Phil. No, it was better. It was so perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to Phil’s neck in a grateful kiss.
“That good, huh?” Phil teases.
Dan nods, closing his eyes. “Mhm. I’m ready for a nap, now.”
“Thought you didn’t sleep?” Phil asks, sounding smug.
A smile crawls onto Dan’s face. “Don’t act cocky about it, sir. I just had a great orgasm and I’d hate to be mean to you now.”
Phil laughs, rolling over and tossing and arm over Dan. “Sure, love. I’ll keep that in mind.” He presses a kiss to Dan’s temple, a sweet gesture that has Dan’s heart squeezing.
“Shh, trying to sleep,” Dan mumbles, his eyes still closed.
“Right,” Phil snorts. Still, he grows quieter, obviously resigned to the idea of sleep. “Promise you won’t leave?” he whispers suddenly, rousing Dan from his almost-sleep.
Dan burrows further into his grip. “Swear on my mum’s life,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Phil’s collarbone. “Now, shh. Sleep time, babe.”
Phil laughs softly, and that’s the last sound Dan hears before he drifts off to sleep.
~~~
After going so many years without sleep, it really was a wild experience to wake up after being asleep for an indeterminable amount of time. Unlike last time, though, Dan wasn’t waking up on the floor of a hallway. Instead, he was waking up to sweet kisses on the back of his neck. He tries to pretend he’s still asleep, but he can’t help but release a pleased sigh at the feeling of Phil’s lips caressing the skin at the nape of his neck. The sound makes Phil freeze, and Dan chuckles quietly before finding his hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss there.
“Morning,” Dan whispers. Phil seems to break out of his momentary frozen state. “I could get used to this,” Dan remarks quietly.
Phil giggles behind him. “So could I. Did you want breakfast?”
Dan shifts to look at Phil’s face in surprise. “You actually eat?” He asks, incredulously.
Phil has a horrified look on his face, but it’s quickly replaced with mock pity. “Babe, you really have no idea what you’re missing out on in the human world.”
With a smile, Dan presses a kiss to Phil’s cheek. “You can teach me.”
There’s a grin on Phil’s face now, and he ducks down to kiss Dan’s lips quickly. “I’d love to teach you all sorts of things,” he says, his voice full of excitement and innocence.
Dan quirks an eyebrow with a smirk. “That sounds promising,” he teases gently.
Rolling his eyes, Phil leans in and nips at the end of Dan’s nose. “It’s a promise,” he replies.
Dan pulls away enough to study Phil’s face for a moment, picking out the colors in his eyes as he stares at him. “I like you.” He says eventually, smiling softly after the announcement.
Phil grins, his tongue poking out between his teeth. “You just like me?” He asks with that cheeky little grin.
Dan rolls his eyes at him, but gets serious with his answer, glancing down at where their naked bodies are still very much intertwined. “I feel like it’s too early for me to tell you I love you,” he breathes.
Phil seems to suck in a huge breath then, and Dan holds his own, hoping it isn’t a bad thing. “Do you?” Phil asks in a near whisper.
Dan frowns. “What?”
“Love me.”
There’s a pause, and then Dan leans his head back and stares up at Phil with a soft smile. “I think I’m starting to,” he breathes before leaning in for a kiss.
And for the first time in a long time, Dan didn’t feel so alone.
#phanfiction#fallin all in you fic#fallen angel!dan#angel!phil#light angst#fluff#smut#19k words#inspired by laurainlilac's art#ty for letting me write this based on your art u r an angel too friend
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Loyal
Fandom: Creepypasta
Characters: Slenderman, Jeff the killer, others mentioned
Relationship: Slender/reader
Request: Can you do another slender one? Can you make it that the reader is like a supernatural being and she and slender have been together (not romantically yet tho). Something happens and she leaves for a big but comes back and fluffy ending
You gently pushed up the window of the mansion and pulled yourself up and over the window sill and into the kitchen, trying not to make a single noise.
You were a proxy of Slenderman and currently, you were sneaking back in after lights out. You actually weren’t meant to be out at all tonight but you had to do something which you didn’t want anyone to find out about and because Masky and Hoodie were always with you during the day, you hadn’t had a chance yet. You managed to get in the window and across the kitchen sink fine which was surprising considering the number of pots and pans from washing up. Jumping down, you land silently on the white floor and smiled.
Until brightness filled the room and you hissed at the sudden light. You raised your fingers to cover your eyes but glanced through them to see Jeff leaning against the door way, a smirk playing on his smiling face. You knew what this meant. It meant that he was going to use this against you for the rest of your life.
“Well, well, well. Slendermans perfect proxy sneaking in.” Jeff teased as he pushed himself off the doorframe and started to walk back into the living room. You darted after him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him back a bit.
“Don’t say anything, Jeff. Please?” You begged him, trying to step in front of him, hoping he would be persuaded by puppydog eyes.
While you had broken the rules of the house, you weren’t scared of Slenderman for that reason. He wouldn’t punish you nearly as severally as he would Jeff or BEN and you knew that. You would probably get a slap on the wrist.
In truth, you had feelings for Slenderman and had done for a long time. You both had a lot in common and you could sit with each other for hours talking about everything and nothing. The main thing for you was that he was immortal, like you.
When you were younger, you didn’t get close to anyone because a year to you was 50 to them and people would die and leave you. So you kept to yourself but then Slender had come into your life. You had stood loyally by his side since then. That must have been close to 150 years ago now. That thought comforted you. Not being on your own for all eternity and having him. But it also pained you. While you feeling had grown for him, you had never said or acted on those feeling for fear of him not returning them. If he didn’t, there would be an awkwardness between you or he would leave you and you would be on your own again. You were very carful about your thoughts. Sometimes he could read them and sometimes he couldn’t. when you were either upset of emotional, he seemed to find it easier to read them.
It has been nearly 800 years you had been alive (although only looking [age] years old) and you had never felt for anyone this way.
Jeff turned around to face you.
“And why wouldn’t I tell? I have to be a good proxy.” Jeff laughed while you rolled your eyes at him. He had never been one to abide by the rules and as aa result, you were normally the one to keep him in check.
then a memory lights up your mind.
You pulled back from him and smirk.
“Well, if you tell him about this, I’ll just HAVE to mention the time you nearly killed me when I was heading home.” You see the fear flash before his eyes. It had only been a month ago, when Jeff had been chasing someone and accidently come across you. But he mistook you for the victim and tried to stab you. Jeff knew that if Slender ever found out, he would be hung from a tree somewhere as a warning to others. No one touched [y/n].
He groaned, knowing you had him beat.
“Fine.” He cursed under his breath, huffing to himself. You smiled at your victory, ran up and hugged him quickly before skipped to your room.
------------------time skip---------------------
It had been 5 weeks since you had snuck in and you hadn’t seen or heard from Slender. Masky and Hoodie apparently had because they would have instructions for the day but you never saw him, even at meals.
You grew increasingly agitated with the situation. You enjoyed Slenders company and you weren’t used to him being like this with you. You had tried to talk to him but he completely ignored you. It was hurting more than you let anyone know but you knew you couldn’t go on like this.
You were packing your bags when a knock at your door made you jump. You called for them to come in and Jeff opened the door and peaked in, his eyes widening.
“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice filled with concern as he scanned the nearly empty room.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Jeff? Im leaving.” You snapped a him a little, instantly regretting it but continued to pack nonetheless.
“Where are you going?” He asked, walking over and picking up the book on your dresser. You walked over and took it from him.
“Don’t know.” You turned on your heel to walk back to your bed and shoved it into the rucksack.
“How long will you be gone?” He asked. This made you stop what you were doing.
“I don’t know.” You whispered, the emotions you had tired to hid now filling your voice. You were scared and hurt.
Before you could do anything, Jeff sprinted out the door to god knows where. You just shook your head and packed the last of your things. You had boxes which you were going to leave in the cupboard and you would either get when you got back or would collect when you found somewhere to live. You had your essentials in a rucksack and a side bag.
Walking to the door, you glanced back over your shoulder and turned out the light, your heart breaking. 150 years you had been here and now you were leaving. You clutched the old newspaper in your hand.
So you decided to take matters into your own hands and walked to his office. You were outside and about to knock when you heard voices inside and your name. Leaning forward, you listened.
“It is none of my concern what [y/n] does and does not do.” Slender spoke with a hint of anger in his voice.
“I’m just saying. Its not like you to just ignore her.” Jeff spoke, sounding a little agitated as well. Your eyes widened as you realised what must be happening. Jeff was snitching on you. You supressed a growl when Slender spoke again.
“Listen to me, Jeffery. I do not care about her. I do not care if she was out that night. I do not care if she were to get hurt and I would not care if she were to leave. Do not test me anymore.”
Just then, the door open and you were confronted by Slender. You couldn’t look at him. In fact, you were struggling to process the information as it was.
You glanced down at the newspaper in your hand.
It was from the date you had met Slender all those years ago. You had tracked down one and that was why you had snuck out when Jeff caught you, to go and get it. You were going to give it to Slender on this Sunday, which would be exactly 150 years.
You dropped the paper to the ground and turned on your heel, walking to the door and leaving.
The second you were outside, you ran into the woods. You ran and ran until you couldn’t breath anymore. Until your legs were going to give way or you were going pass out, you didn’t care.
---------------time skip----------------------
Night fell hours ago and you were standing in the dark with your hood up over your head.
Slendermans woods. You stared at the woods in front of you, switching from foot to foot as the trees towered over you.
It had only been 5 years since you had last been here. God, you were one of the oldest creatures to walk the planet and yet 5 years seemed to have dragged by at a snails pace.
It was like you were back before you had met him.
Why were you drawn here?
It was like a piece of elastic was attached to you and every now and again you would be pulled back to stand on the outskirts of your old home. The trees were wrapped in a imaginary force that would alert Slender if anyone should dare enter his domain. He would normally just send on of his proxies to deal with them but sometimes he would attend to the killing himself. Or he would frighten the victim out of their skin so they would run and tell no one to enter. Slenderman never liked having killing so close to the place many creatures of the night called their home. He normally demanded the killing sprees take place at least 10 miles away from the woods but most would travel further if they could.
You were about to turn around and walk away when you suddenly sensed a presents approaching you from behind fast.
You managed to twist round just as the attacker held up a knife, ready to stab it into your back. You grabbed the attackers wrist and flipped him over so he fell on his back. You instantly recognised the white hoodie, the craved smile, the dark eyes.
Jeff let out a growl as you stepped back a little. You knew he hadn’t recognised you as he scrambled to his feet, ready to attacked again.
Just as he started to run at you a second time, you reached up and pulled back your hood.
He froze.
For a moment, you both just stared at each other. While you hadn’t aged at all, Jeff seemed to have if only in the smallest ways.
You smiled gently at him.
“Hi, Jeff.” You greeted your old friend.
“[y/n], god its been years.” His smiled widened as he shoved his knife in his pocket.
For a while, the two of you stood at the edge of the woods, just catching up. You told him about how you had travelled for a bit and that you were just passing though.
“But you gotta come back to the house. Everyones missed you. Sally wont stop asking when you’ll come back.” Jeff frowned and you looked down, a little ashamed that you were letting her down.
“That’s the thing, Jeff. Im not coming back. I was never meant to be seen here.” You confessed.
“He missed you, you know.” As jeff spoke, your eyes shot to meet his and you instantly knew he was speaking about Slenderman. “Ever since you left, hes been… off. Nothings ever been as good as you used to do it. You were always perfect to him.” Jeff spoke with a air of humanity about him which was strange but you shook your head.
“Jeff, 150 years I was by his side. And you heard how he spoke about me. Im not a sappy person nor do I care for compliments, but that hurt. Im not saying he should give me a glowing report for my loyalty but I do expect respect.” You looked at Jeff and instantly saw he understood.
“Well, just come back for a little bit? Couple of hours at the most. Slenders away tonight but everyone else should be there.”
you couldn’t say no.
Jeff lead the way into the woods, a small jump in his steps which made you shake your head and laugh. He had always been like a brother to you and you loved him like a brother.
but as the old home came into view, you felt your stomach jump into your throat.
you stood behind Jeff as he pushed the front door open and your ears were filled with the sounds of voices you knew oh so well. He looked over his shoulder at you and motioned for you to be silent. Grinning, you nodded. You followed him in the hallways which hadn’t changed and hid behind him as he stood in the doorway of the living room from where all the noise was coming from.
“I got a surprise!” He exclaimed gleefully with a hint of sinister in his voice.
“What, you finally coming out your emo phase?” You head Ticci toby tease and you had to hold back a giggle.
Jeff took one big step to the side, revealing you to the whole room which fell silent. But as quickly as the silence came, it was gone. You were surrounded by your old friends as Sally threw herself into your arms, squealing in delight.
You laughed for the first time in years as arms encircled you. You glanced down just as Smiley squeezed between legs and jumped up so his front paws were on your hips. You moved Sally to balance her in one arm on your other hip and rubbed Smiley head.
But all the joy was sucked from the room as the crowed fell silent and stared at something behind you.
You slowly glanced over your shoulder to see Slenderman, standing in the hallway behind you, staring down at you.
“My office.” His voice demanded as he turned and strode to the room he demanded you meet him in.
Sally gave you one final hug as she dropped to the floor. You could feel the tension in the room as they all stared at you, possibly fearing your punishment.
You had been contracted in his service and you had broken that contract. No one knew what to expect.
There was a number of reassuring taps on your shoulders from the others as you started to walk after Slenderman till someone grabbed your wrist. You turned to see Jeff with the others behind him.
“If he tries to hurt you, we’ll protect you.” Jeff growled as Ticci toby, LJ, Hoodie, Masky, EJ and Rake made noises of confirmation. You smiled and gently pulled yourself from his grasp, assuring them you would be fine.
With that, you went to his office.
Entering the large room, you noticed that, like the rest of the house, it hadn’t changed. Slender was standing the other side of a large, oak desk that was in the centre of the room. On the right wall was a window to the woods which the left was one uses for pinning new articles on any creepypasta activity.
“Yes?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You left, [y/n]!” Slenderman growled as he leaned with both hands on his desk now.
“So what if I did? You made it very clear you didn’t want me around. That you thought nothing of me.” You shrugged, keeping your chin high.
“That was not what I said to you!” Slender snapped back. You could see his tentacles begin to appear from his back, meaning he was angry. But you didn’t care.
“No, you’re right. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t speak or acknowledge me for over a month and then I hear you speaking about me like im dirt under your feet.” You retorted, crossing your arms.
“You have no idea what you are messing with!” Slendermans voice seemed to rumble through the house as his black tentacles slide along the walls and towards you.
“What you going to do? Kill me? Be my guest!” You screamed, tears beginning to sting your eyes. Not because you were scared.
Because you heart was breaking. Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited for your end, hoping it would actually happen. You had never been attacked by a creature with the strength of Slenderman s many your defences wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he could kill you.
You thought about the irony of being killed by the one person you had fallen in love with. You thought of all the times you had spent in this very office, just speaking with him. All the times you had went out your way to please him. You thought of how much you adored him. Every time he helped you, every time he had been there for you. You tried to think about when you had been happy. But the thoughts quickly turned to the words that night. How they had sliced your heart into pieces.
Something soft touched your cheek gently. You jumped and your eyes flew open to see Slenderman was standing in front of you. But his tentacles had retreated into his back. His hand was gently running across your cheek and his anger seemed to had seeped away.
A tear escaped your eye and cascaded down your other cheek but he reached his free hand and wiped it away.
You were frozen, staring up at him in totally confusion.
Then it clicked in your mind. He had heard your thoughts. He had heard you thinking about how you felt about him.
You let out a small gasp as you stepped out his grasp, darting to the other side of the room, past his desk.
You were trying to figure out what you were going to do when something on his desk caught your attention.
It was a extract from a old paper. One you recognised. It was the paper you had gotten for him 5 years ago. The very one you had dropped the night you left.
he had kept it, on his desk, this whole time. Your eyes wondered to the rest of the desk which was cluttered with little things you had given him. Little trinkets and knickknacks. There was papers which had killing reports which you two had done.
You looked up to see he was still in the spot you had just been in but was watching you.
“You kept these, after all this time?” You asked in disbelief.
“There are the only things I have.” He spoke, a sadness in his voice as he walked up to the desk.
You looked over to the wall that was used to track creepypasta activity to see one section was only filled with crimes you had committed in the last 5 years. You had a particular killing style which was probably detailed in the new articles.
“I had to know where you were.” Slender breathed, his face turned to look at the wall. “I had to know you were safe.”
You blinked.
“I don’t understand. You said that night that you didn’t care.” You shook your head slightly, trying to stop his words which were replaying in your mind. You heard Slender let out a sigh as he shook his head slightly.
“Jeffery has always been one to try my patient. I overheard you two speaking in the kitchen a while back. You said there was something you didn’t want me knowing. I assumed it was the relationship between you both-“ Before Slender could finished, you interrupted him.
“What relationship?” You asked, genuinely confused.
“you were together, were you not?” Slender asked, looking over to you. You let out a small laugh at the idea.
“God no. I mean, hes like a brother, but nothing more. I think we are more likely to kill each other if you locked us in a room for too long.” You shook your head slightly, still giggling at the idea. But then you stopped as everything fell into place in your mind.
“[y/n]?” As slender spoke, he walked around the desk to stand in front of you again, towering over you as normal. You hummed in response.
“Will you leave again?” Slendermans voice wasn’t demanding or threating. He sounded as if the answer to the question would kill him inside.
“I-I don’t know.” You answered the truth. You wanted to stay, but you didn’t think you could ever go back to the way things were between you both. Could he ever trust you again after you ran away? And could you forgive the harsh words?
“Stay. We need you here. I need you.” Slender hunched over slightly as he reached up and cupped your right cheek. You held back a gasp at his words. The dreaded and feared Slenderman almost begging a woman to stay by his side seemed almost impossible. And yet here he was.
Before you could answer, Slenderman leaned down. As he did, a loud ripping sound filled the air and you saw briefly, a jagged mouth appear across him face before it was pressed to yours.
You let out a half gasp, half moan as you kissed him back instantly.
You were about to let out another moan when the door was flung open and a number of growls was heard before silence. You and Slender broke apart to see the door had nearly been flung off its hinges and in the doorway stood some rather confused faces.
“What is the meaning of this?” Slenderman growled, standing at his full height, his mouth disappearing.
“We heard a ripping sound and wanted to make sure [y/n] was okay.” Jeff spoke but you could hear the embarrassment in his voice.
“Im fine.” You pipped up, your cheeks glowing red.
“I’ll bet you are.” Toby giggled from somewhere in the back.
Slenderman let out a low growl and the group was sent running from the door.
You couldn’t hold back your laugher as Slenderman turned back to you. He reached up and pinched the small bridge between his eyes and let out a sigh.
“At least their loyal.” You giggled, shaking your head slightly.
“Yes, I suppose.” Slender looked down at you. Your cheeks burned red so you glanced down only for his hand to cup your chin and make you look back at him.
“Will you stay here with me?” Slenderman half asked, half mused. As if he was speaking to himself as well.
There was only one answer you could give him.
You flung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your level before pressing your lips back to his own.
#creepypasta#slender#slenderman#slenderman x reader#slender x reader#slenderman/reader#fluff#little angst
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Dreams
Fandom: Nightmare on Elm Street Character: Freddy krueger Relationship: Fredy krueger/reader Request: Freddy Krueger- the reader is a supernatural being and needs his help with something. You woke up in a large boiler room and smiled wickedly, silently congratulating yourself. You had been trying for weeks to get the one and only Freddy Krueger to invade your dreams and finally, your work had paid off. You weren’t like all the normal humans he killed, but then again, you weren’t entirely human. You were a hybrid, your prime objective to kill. You had been hunting a small gang of people with only a few names and descriptions to go on which had proven harder than you originally thought. And even when you could track them, they were in a group of 9 or 10 people with weapons. You may be immortal, but they could still do you some damage. If you got the boss, you would be given £20,000 which was a modest sum for a job this big. When you had heard at a bar of the famed Freddy Krueger, dream demon, you couldn’t help but change your plan. This wouldn’t be the first time you had went to creatures similar to yourself for help. But the biggest problem was going to be trying to persuade him to work with you. If things went wrong here, you couldn’t just run. And because of the way you had completed this meant you weren’t dreaming. You were physically in his domain with nothing in the ‘real’ world. Although it may seem like it. You heard a high pitched scrapping noise and turned your head in the direction of the sound. From the shadows, he appeared. His burnt and disfigured face was smirking at you while he dragged his gloved hand across the pipes, the blades emitting the sound. You turned to fully face him, your own smirk matching his, which seemed to surprise him as he stopped, tilting his head to the side with a glint in his eyes. “Come on, bitch. Too scared to run?” He half growled at you, trying to evoke a sense of fear. To be honest, he did send a small spark of fear down your spin, but only because you knew he was a match for you. You still didn’t fully understand his powers and because of that, you didn’t know what he was capable of. But at the same time, he didn’t know what you could do. “You do not frighten me, Krueger. Im not the normal types you get here. Ive come on business.” You speak with an air of authority while was clear and strong. This, once again, surprised Freddy as he raised a questionable eyebrow at you. “Is that so. You want to make a deal with the devil.” He chuckled, raising this gloved hand and fanning the blades in front of his face, attempting to taunt you. “No, I have done a deal with the devil before. Don’t flatter yourself.” You smirk at him, placing a hand on your hip and using your other hand to twirl a strand of hair. “You have my attention. I suggest you talk fast before I cut your throat.” He then turns and walked in a circle around you, like a lion may do to its prey. “I’d like to see you try.” You giggle, biting your lip, enjoying playful aura of this conversation. Every other you had made deals with had always had a serious tone where as this one seemed more playful. Freddy was now behind you but you decided to let him have his fun. He probably wouldn’t take you seriously until he knew what he was dealing with. You heard him approaching you from behind and felt a prick and pressure in your right shoulder. You turned your head slightly to see that Freddy was trying to press his knife into the skin of your shoulder but not succeeding. He frowned and pushed harder but the blade did not pierce your skin. Instead, he watched with wide eyes as the skin he had been trying to break began to sparkle red like a diamond. He pulled back and backed away from you, a confused frown on his burnt face. You chuckled and turned to him. “I told you, im not like those you normally deal with. Now, my business?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Freddy looked you up and down, a smirk forming on his thin lips. He didn’t reply so you took that as a que to go on. “I have some people who I am after. But I cant seem to track them down. But from what I know, you can. And you could get them in their nightmares?” You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to get him to confirm his power even though you were here. “I can. But why should I? Whats in it for me?” He began, once again to circle you, but keeping his distance a little more which made you a little proud. He was obviously intimidated, even a little, by you. “You get them. Once I have the information I need, you can keep them, play with them, kill them, I really don’t care. You can get them one at a time. Strike fear into their hearts when they realise what is happening. It will spread your name, your powers. And once that’s all done, god knows how many more people you could have.” You walk over and cut off his path, smiling wickedly at him, knowing your deal was a good one. And from the glint in his eyes, he thought so too. “And if I don’t take your deal?” He stepped closer to you, obviously growing in confidence since you hadn’t tried to kill him yet. And vice versa. “Nothing. I walk away and you never hear from me again. But you will be forgotten. This is a way for you to continue to be remembered. Otherwise, you’ll fade away.” You waved your hand and spoke in an airy voice, knowing this may strike accord with the killer. No one liked to be forgotten in this profession. Freddy watched your hand for a moment, thinking your deal over. “I’ll give you a day. The first person on my list is Martin Flea. He’s currently on Elm Street, visiting relatives. You bring him to me tomorrow night when I go to sleep, and we have a deal. If you don’t, then the deal is off.” You then closed your eyes and woke up. as you sat up in your make shift bed, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, hoping he would take the offer. If he did, this would be a fun business. ----------------next night----------------------- You spent the whole day wondering if he would come back into your dream with Flea. You had enjoyed his company while it had lasted and because of that, you did want to see him again. But as you fell asleep, your eyes opened and you were in a different room. This room was dark with a few candles dotted over the place. One corner was too dark to see what lurked there but in the opposite one, there was a table with 2 chairs either side. And sitting in one of the chairs was Freddy. He was leaning back with one arm over the back of the chair and both his feet up on the table. His hat was tilted forward, covering his eyes but you could see the smirk on his lips. “Hello, sweet cheeks.” He purred, his voice a little raspy. You couldn’t help but smile. “Good evening, Krueger.” You return the greeting before walking over and sitting opposite him. “So, have you thought about my offer?” You ask him, tilting your head to the side and smiling. You didn’t want to assume that he was willing to cooperate. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He glances up at you from under his hat. You couldn’t help but smile. Of everyone you had dealt with, both human and other, you were most attracted to him. You didn’t realise this until after the dream yesterday. Your thoughts were drawn to him. “Ah. Yes you are but I see no Mr Flea.” You glance around, making it obvious as you smirked back at him. Freddy smirked at you before using his gloved hand to point up. You followed his direction and there, hanging from the ceiling by chains was Martin Flea. He was still conscious but the cloth that was in his mouth prevented him from talking. His clothes were torn and drenched with sweat as well as being covered in blood. “Nice job, Krueger.” You nod, getting up and standing on your chair. Martin began to writhe in his constraints at your approach. You were about to reach out and take the rag when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you off the chair, spinning you away from Martin to set you back on the ground. You blink and see Freddy smirk at you, his arms still around you. “Hold on there, bitch. I think we need to discuss this deal before he talks.” His voice was low, spending a shiver of pleasure down your spin but you didn’t show it. “Very well.” You giggle, twirling elegantly out of his arms and returning to your seat. Freddy quickly followed you, an eager grin on his lips. --------------------time skip-------------------- It had been 2 months since you had started working with Freddy and you had not enjoyed working with someone this much before. He was sarcastic and sadistic which you adored about him. His wit and charm had taken you off guard and now, you hated to admit it but you had began to fall for him. You had been in this work for many many more years than your face showed since you couldn’t age and in that time, you never met anyone like him. You craved the night time for his company and spent more your day thinking about him. He had helped you get to the top of the chain, to the big boss. In fact, Freddy had helped you kill him the night before. You were just back from picking up your wages from the dealer. He seemed as shocked as anyone when you walked in the pictures of the body. But he handed you your money without any questions. But now, the deal was over. You wondered what would happen now. You had spent nearly every night with Freddy for the last 2 months. It would be strange to part ways without a word. But then again, you had grown to care deeply for him and you wondered if he returned the care. You remembered when one of the men had spat in your face when you asked for information. Freddy had hit the roof, dragging him away from you and slashing at his stomach. His rage was more than just that of an acquaintance. And considering his work and previous victims, he obviously wasn’t someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. That was a little much for just business partners. Because of these worries, you took a while to drift off to ‘sleep’. But when you did, you awoke in a dark room which you instantly recognised as the same room you had met Freddy in the second time. This is where the two of you would come to do business and figure out the next move. Glancing at the table, you were surprised not to see the killer sitting there. Frowning, you walked over to your normal seat, sitting down with concern. he had always met you when you entered a dream. In fact, he always seemed so keen to wrap an arm around your waist and spin you around, muttering in your ear “welcome back, sweet cheeks.” So it was strange for him to be nowhere to be seen. You admitted, you missed that welcome. He had stopped calling you bitch and sugar tits only 2 weeks into the deal but sweet cheeks seemed to have stuck. You wondered why you were here. Half of you wondered if this was your dream and you had just dreamt of this room rather than Freddy brought you here. But then why wouldn’t you have dreamt for him to be here. You sat forward in your chair and leaned your head on the table, closing your eyes, focusing. But nothing happened. You tried to make something change in the room but nothing did. This confirmed that you were in Freddys world. You then got to your feet, huffing slightly. You hated this. But an idea popped into your head. “One, two, Freddy’s coming for you.” you sung sweetly into the room. You knew he loved your singing and had made you on more than one time sing to him. He had even taken you on a personal request to kill a teenage he had been trying to spook for some time. You had stood in the dark and sung that song, making the normally tough boy weep. You remembered how delighted Freddy had been. “Three, Four, better lock your door.” You continued, walking in a circle, looking around for Freddy. That was one thing about this room that you didn’t like. It didn’t have any door. “Five, Six, grab a crucifix.” “Seven eight, Gonna stay up late.” “Nine, ten, never sleep again.” You finish the song with a sadness in your voice, but nothing had changed. You look around you aimlessly. Maybe you would part ways without a word in the end. You wondered if he was watching you but from where? You didn’t know. You sat back down at the table, placing your head in your hands. Why did you care so much if he didn’t want to see you again? How many people had you met in your life who you hadn’t seen in god knows how long? But he, he was different. “So, sweetcheeks. We’re done, what you doing back here?” You jumped and looked up to see Freddy sitting in the chair opposite you, his legs up on the table and his hat hiding his eyes. “I honestly don’t know. Just fell asleep.” You giggle, shrugging your shoulders. You were so relieved to see him. Freddy replied with a ‘hmm’ but never said anything else. You both just sat there for a few minutes in silence. You could feel the tension in the room, which was strange. Even when you had first met, there wasn’t this tension. You pushed your chair out, making the legs scrap across the floor, then got to your feet and walked around the table to Freddy. When you were beside him, you hopped up onto the table beside his legs. “Whats up, Freddy?” You asked, prodding his feet playfully. You saw the smirk spread across his face but it quickly disappeared as if he didn’t want you to see it. “Nothing, bitch.” Freddys said. He didn’t see the frown cross your face. He hadn’t called you bitch in a while. So you were back at the start. He didn’t give a damn but why were you surprised. “So, how do I get out of here then?” You asked, keeping your voice emotionless. But Freddy didn’t answer, he just stayed silent like he hadn’t heard you. You frowned and reached out, pulling the hat off his head and causing him to jump. “What the fuck?” He growled and you got off the table and walked away from him. “You’re being a dick.” You simply said as you turned back to see him standing and leaning on the table, a menacing look in his eyes. “You don’t know what you are dealing with here.” Freddy said as he pushed himself off the table and walked over to you. You stood your ground and held the hat behind your back. “Neither do you.” You smirked with a raised eyebrow. “Annoying stupid fucking bitch.” He growled, standing right in front of you, trying to intimidate you. “If im all those things, then why am I still here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Just then, it dawned on you. Why were you here? It was obvious now it was Freddy who brought you here. But he knew he couldn’t kill you and as far as he was concerned, he didn’t have to see you anymore. “Just give me my hat back.” He growled, his eyes on fire. You sighed and pulled the hat from behind your back. You knew there was no point in arguing with him and that he wouldn’t respond properly if he thought you were pissing about with him. reaching up, you placed the hat on his head, tugging the sides down so it was secure. But then your hand ran down the side of his face. You had never touched the burnt flesh there before for fear Freddy might either get angry or offended. But now you decided ‘what the hell’ since he was obviously angry at you anyway. You watched in surprise as Freddy eyes fell shut and his took a deep breath through his nose. Surprised by the reaction, you gently pulled your hand way. As Freddy opened his eyes, you walked around him to sit at the table. Maybe he just wanted your company? Staying here in dream world and only have people to toy with must get a little boring, even for him. Maybe he was doing this to get a reaction out of you or maybe because he jus didn’t know how to act, so he went back to what he knew best. Freddy followed behind you and sat back in his seat, his eyes trained on you. “So why are you here?” You asked, looking up to see a smirk on his lips. “Ive come on business, dollface.” He muttered. Instantly, you recognised those as the words you had said when you first met. You decided to ply his game. “Is that so? Making a deal with the devil?” You giggled, leaning forward in your chair and waiting for his response. “something like that. Heres the deal. You stay here.” Freddy crossed his arms over his chest, the smirk wavering for a second. You raised an eyebrow at his. Maybe you had been right. Getting to your feet, you began to walk away and looked around the room. “And whats in it for me?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder to Freddy who was close at your heel. “Everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” He half sneered but you could tell he ws being serious. Being permanently in the dream world would be bliss. The adrenaline you felt here was comparable to nothing and you would always have the upper hand in every situation. “And whats in it for you.” You turned on your heel and gently prodded in him in the chest. “You.” He growled, stepping closer and grabbing your hips, pulling you against his body. Instantly, you rest your hands on his chest, playing with the material. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I might need some convincing.” Your voice was low and seductive and from the look in Freddy’s eyes, it was all he needed. His lips came crashing down on your own. The kiss was rough and tense with that hint of danger which you loved. You allowed Freddy’s hands to wonder across your body, feeling your curves under over your clothes. He then wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, carrying you across the room to set you on the table. You giggled at the action, breaking the kiss. “So, what do you say, Sweet cheeks?” Freddy chuckled. You scrambled up your face, pretending to think. “Hmm, I think I could hang about for a bit.” You giggled, beaming up at Freddy who flashed you that handsome smile. From then on, you were by Freddy’s side no matter what. And you wouldnt have it any other way.
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