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ggukkiereads · 3 years

Note

hi hii I was wondering if you had any taekook x reader fics ? 🙈 , also wondering if I could I go as 🗯 anon if that's okay? I love ur recs so much and ur page is a LIFESAVER , ily bae <3

🌷 Dear 🗯️ anon! I am sorry for answering so late. My drafts are all messed up but I was able to focus on this. On my 📍 pinned post, I actually asked if you meant love triangles or MMF smut but you didn't reply. So, I'll just put both =)

Enjoy! Much love and credit goes to all these wonderful writers who brought these fics to life 💖🥳

TaeKook Fics (Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook)

Love Triangle/s

M/M/F Smutty One Shots/Series

#ReadwithMe (fics in my reading queue/planning to read)

Love Triangle

All I Want @ardentlyjae - series [6/6] | 126k | War AU, Soldier!Taehyung | Heavy Angst, S

I actually read this on AO3 but I realized it’s on tumblr too. I remember this fic every time I hear Kodaline’s All I Want, which the fic was inspired by

Anima Meaology @arckook - series [5/5] | 26k | Soulmate AU, soulmate glitch (those with mismatched tattoos on their wrist) | A, F

I read this long ago on AO3 when I had this soulmate AU-fixation phase and I saw it on tumblr recently. Just had to read it again 🥺

Aquarium, Part 2 @whatifyoulivelikethat - two shot | 6.9k | cheating/infidelity, healing/comfort, second chances | A, F

I really like this comfort fic 🥰. Also shows that people deserve second chances, even the person who caused so much hurt. Screamed about it here and here

Change @junghelioseok - series [10/10] | 39.2k | a kind handsome stranger (Taehyung) makes you question your deteriorating relationship (Jungkook) | A, S, F

can I just say that Taehyung is such a sweetheart here 🥰? I always envision Paris Taehyung 2018 in this

Everything Goes @jamaisjoons - one shot | 24k | Fuckboy!Taehyung, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Stranger!Jungkook, unrequited love | A, S (really angsty)

First Light @inktae - one shot | 24k | Bestfriend!Taehyung, Masked Jungkook who can’t seem to leave the forest, Fantasy AU, based on hotarubi no mori e | F

If you’ve seen my fic recs list, inktae is always part of my recs. The way they write is just emotionally and visually haunting. Their works are just masterpieces. This is beautifully heartbreaking and heartbreakingly beautiful.

House of Cards @aiimaginesbts - series [10/10] | 40k | infidelity au, taehyung in an arranged marriage with someone else, roommate Jungkook | A, S, F

don’t we all want to have a roommate like Jungkook who will be there to comfort you over your heartbreak over someone else?

Stealing the Bite by wildernessuntothemselves - series [6/6] | 37k | witch!reader x werewolf!taehyung x vampire!jungkook, supernatural au, fantasy au | S, A

I mentioned before that some are divided re the ending, so I wonder what’s going to be the reactions of others

The Muse @daddychims - one shot | 30k | Author!Reader, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Fuckboy!Taehyung, Coworker!Jungkook, Taehyung offered OC to watch him have sex with another so she could write an erotic scene | S, A, F

The Universe of Us (read on mobile) @/taesthetes (officially closed her account) - one shot | 21k | Dream AU, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Kimi no Nawa-inspired | F, A

I am never going to shut up about this fic lol. It’s not exactly a love triangle, ugh hard to explain but please read this wonderful fic. Check their other KTH x R x JJK soulmate fic Cloud Ten too.

When You Least Expect @johobi - series [12/14 + drabble] | 118k | Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, Childhood Friend Taehyung, set up with another guy (Jungkook) | S, A, F

ugh, I want to put another tag about Jungkook but I guess it’s a surprise. I just love the drama 🍿

🌷 I’m forgetting two more fics but I’ll update this once I remember. I haven’t read recently released fics too! I’ll add if there are good ones that come along

MMF Smutty One Shots/Series

A Piece of You @httpjeon - one shot | 13.9k | abo dynamics, camboy AU, camgirl AU, fan jungkook joins the cam session | S, F

All’s Fair @kimvtae - one shot | 13k | soulmate AU, college AU, dating Taehyung for a year but different name (Jungkook) showed up on OC’s wrist (lol it’s not a problem if you can get them both) | S

Blacklisted @/httpjeon - one shot | 21k | dom/sub AU, CEO AU, “after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men” | A, F, S

Business @btssmutgalore - two shot | 28.9k | executive!reader, inventors/start-up owners taekook | S (seriously, how could I have missed including this here)

Dulce Periculum @forgottenpasta - two shot [2/2] | 16k | Hybrid AU, Tiger Hybrid!Tae, Owner!Reader, Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook | S, A, F

Easy Like Sunday Morning @ofsugakookies - one shot | 11.8k | boyfriend AU (yes, both of them), dom!taehyung, sub!jungkook | S, PWP

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - two shot [2/2] 11.6k | Hybrid AU (dog hybrids) | S, A (side note: I realized I’ve read all of their fics! give their masterlist a try)

Just Kidding @/whatifyoulivelikethat - series [5/?] | 21.1k+ | nympho OC, friend Taehyung, tae’s roommate Jungkook | S, kinda F, crack

this is actually fun 😊; and the episodes are written in a drabble-ish sort of way so you won’t feel like it needs to be updated to get the story moving. It’s basically just reading fun scenarios of nympho OC and these two satisfying her needs *wink wink

Not So Digital @jiminables - sequel to Digital Boy | 2.7k | camboy!taehyung, bestfriend!jungkook, short mxm | S, slight F

Playing to Win @tayegi - one shot | 8.6k | FWB AU (tae), sort of enemies to lovers (jungkook), TaeKook (mxm), originally Taehyung x OC (fwb) | S

okay this is one of my favorites! I’m amazed at how the power dynamics were written. Taehyung seems a dom with OC but with Jungkook he is all soft and sub; then, there’s that dynamic between Jungkook and OC who disliked each other originally. I just found the shifting so interesting and the writer was able to display these changes in dom/sub behavior among the three characters really well

Pour Up @jungkxook - one shot | 14k | fuckboy AU, fratboy AU (applies to two of them), one sassy OC, one kind of jealous Koo | S (thank you dear author for reposting this! 🥰)

Shhh @bang-tan-bitches - drabble (with OT7 sequel) | 2.7k | PWP (just pure hot imagine)

Shameless @imaginethisbts - one shot | 5.1k | established relationship (jungkook x oc), Taehyung’s POV, exhibitionism | S (not exactly threesome, because JK and OC are just doing it in front of people, Taehyung had a bit of action in the end)

Sugar & Spice @divine-bangtan - one shot | 20.8k | Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU, Baker AU, Noona AU, Assistant!Jungkook, Rich!Taehyung, pining Koo, a bit of M x M | S, F, A (it’s all good everyone ends up happy 😊)

Sugar and Spice @sunkissedjk - two shot [2/2] | 8.6k | Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar (jjk) or spice (kth) | S

ugh this is such an indulgent imagine. If taekook are your friends and they help you decide what type of sex you prefer through a demonstration, wouldn’t you want for multiple demos before deciding? *wink wink

Sacrilegious @therealmintedmango - part of the Gods and Monsters series | 15.6k | Demon!Jungkook, Fallen Angel!Reader, God!Taehyung | S (so sinful 😈💦)

Sweat Pea @nitaescence - series [10/10] | 63k | DDLG!AU, caregiver!jungkook, caregiver!taehyung, little!oc | S, F, A

so I’m glad there was an ask about caregiver!jungkook because I remembered this. I actually checked if there’s a follow up drabble because the ending is open to any interpretation so I’m curious how other readers interpreted it

051 + Scum’s Wish @scriptmin - one shot | 3k | bestfriend!jungkook, pining!oc (unrequited), rebound!taehyung | S, A

it’s actually kind of sad 😭 but I added this because it's good to have variety. Not all smutty pieces will be a happy one

Tattooed Two @/httpjeon - one shot | 8.5k | tattoo artist AU, boyfriend Jungkook joined by his bestfriend Taehyung | S, F

The Doms Next Door @tatertotthethot - series [3.1/?] | 33.8k+ | BDSM AU, Poly, Neighbor AU, Tattoo Artist AU | S

I really love this series. It’s so funny too, I remember Jimin here - he’s THAT bestfriend you want to have. PLUS TaeKook are absolutely hot. If you're not interested in being a sub or partaking in bdsm, you will reconsider

The Hush Series @suga-kookiemonster - two shot [2/2] | 16.9k | coworker’s friends TaeKook, sort of E2L (Jungkook), dom!taehyung, a bit of voyeurism | | S

okay, I really like author’s writing. It can be about sinful delicious smut scenes but I noticed the members always have this developed characterization. I actually find Taehyung so adorably charming - makes me wonder if irl tae is secretly sinful too behind that sweetness lol

Thic Trilogy @btsinned - series [3/7] | 37k+ | CEO AU, Hybrid AU, College AU, Chubby!Reader | S, F, A

🌷 I’m throwing in fics in my reading queue #ReadwithMe

Attitude Adjustment @s0seo - one shot | 11.8k | Roommate AU | S

Chain Reaction @kissmetae - one shot | 3.2k | boyfriend Taehyung and friend Jungkook helping OC relax | S

Cherry @kpopstories - series [4/?] | 29k+ | college AU, fuckboy AU, love triangle | A, S, F (this is part of my ongoing reading list)

Cobalt Blue @hauntedlilies - one shot | 11.3k | artist AU, “you asked Jungkook to draw you like one of his french girls” | S

When You’re Mad @honeyj00ns - one shot | 3.8k | established relationship (boyfriend Jungkook), enemies to lovers Taehyung, Taehyung is JK’s bestfriend, Christmas AU, College AU| S

Madam Cupcake @craztextae - series [6/?] | 69.2k+ | Sugarbaby AU, Idolverse, idol!jungkook meets OC through an app called “sugarmamas(.)com” | S, F

Player Two @minjoonalist - one shot | 10.6k | Gamer!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Taehyung, Brat!Reader | S

Tag Team @goodnight-tae - one shot | 5.2k | stripper AU, TaeKook are roommates and friends who share most things 😉 | S, PWP

Whoa @bangtanlalaland - one shot | 4.7k | skater!taehyung, 1970s AU, coworker!jungkook | S, PWP, Crack

posted: 2021 March 12; updated: 2021 May 12

link to other fic recs here

feel free to recommend a fic

#🌷 chats #taekook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic recs #taehyung fic recs #taekook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #ggukkiereadingcollection #🗯 anon #asks #bts x reader #bts smut

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic.

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them.

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately.

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin.

This has been going on for days now.

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work.

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you.

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away.

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell.

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house.

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon.

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out.

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting.

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely."

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend.

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight.

Or ever. Forever sounds good.

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky.

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire.

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules.

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on.

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future.

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet.

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse."

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is.

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam.

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you.

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King.

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred.

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you.

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?"

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred.

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses.

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house.

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights.

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy.

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either.

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room.

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by.

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow."

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts.

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight.

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance.

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them.

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP.

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky.

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness.

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms.

The sound is coming from Fred's.

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart.

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees.

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him.

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him.

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise.

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me."

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what?

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist."

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively.

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!"

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've -

"I was right. I'm losing you too..."

"Uh, what?"

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you."

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you."

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths."

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better."

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought?

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up.

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now.

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled.

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything."

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session."

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do."

"Mn."

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred.

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze.

"Mn?"

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state.

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all."

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?"

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you."

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated.

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside.

They're going to be alright.

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #bright eyes (listener)#frederick #vincent solaire #sam collins #will is mentioned

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wincestation · 3 years

Text

Wincest in the Pilot (aka my final paper)

2k of academic rambling. I got plenty of help and inspiration from this post and this blog review. Also huge thanks to @s2e11playthings for helping me find the latter. It is me! Essay-anon came out of the shadows!

The first interaction between the two brothers as adults occurs when Dean sneaks into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night. Sam fights the intruder before the latter pins him to the floor, making him realize it's his brother. The first words Dean tells him after not seeing him for two years are, "Easy, tiger." Dean's hand grabs Sam's neck and he smiles broadly at his little brother. As stated in the subsequent dialogue, the reason Dean appears this way is because he knows Sam would not have answered the phone if he had called. Why? the only reason Dean would call (which is also the reason he showed up) is that something happened to their father. Sam knows this, and maybe he didn't care if something really did happen to John. But what if John was the one who called? Maybe then Sam would answer, because he knows that this phone call has a different meaning: something happened to Dean.

Sam and Dean step outside to talk. Sam initially refuses to come with his brother, saying he is done with hunting, with the life that Dean and their father lead. Dean mocks Sam's aspiration for a normal life, perhaps as part of an attempt to persuade Sam to come with him, and return to the life they always shared together. After an argument between the two, involving emotional manipulations on both sides ("It wasn't easy, but it wasn't so bad", Dean dismisses Sam's words; "Do you think Mom would've wanted this for us?" Sam touches on a sensitive point), Dean understands that his brother is not about to give up, and finally reveals the real reason for his arrival:

Dean: I can't do this alone.

Sam: Yes, you can.

Dean: Well, I don't want to.

Dean completely contradicts everything he had said up to this point. In this sentence he expresses an emotional need for Sam, not a practical need. He could have sought out their father alone but chose not to; Maybe he saw the danger to his father's life as a good enough reason for Sam to come back to their lives again. Sam can not remain indifferent to this emotional vulnerability, and agrees to come with him - not because he cares what happens to their father, but because he too, like Dean, needs his brother and does not want to say goodbye to him again.

Sam agrees on one condition: he has an interview on Monday and he must get back on time. Dean agrees. Sam could have offered Dean to sleep on the couch and drive in the morning, or even go after the interview. But he does none of these things, and travels with him at that moment, in the middle of the night, without providing explanations to his girlfriend and without even kissing her goodbye. "At least tell me where you're going?" She calls after him as he leaves, with no answer. This urgency can be interpreted as a concern for the safety of Winchester Sr. but given the relationship between him and Sam, this is probably not the case. Why then is Sam in such a hurry to abandon the life he, allegedly, wants so much? In light of the dialogue between the two brothers the answer seems simple. He missed his brother, and now that he knows this feeling is mutual, he feels he has a good enough reason to leave the "normal" life behind - even if only for one weekend. This confirmation is the real reason he's arguing with his brother. The dialogue between them, according to this interpretation, is full of subtext:

Dean: I will not go until you come with me, or kick me out of your life forever.

Sam: If you want me to come, you need to tell me what I need to hear.

Dean: Don't make me say it out loud.

The two set out to find their father. After research, Sam and Dean discover that the monster of the week is a "woman in white" - a ghost that kills unfaithful men. Later in the episode, the ghost tries to attack Sam, who tells her she can't hurt him, because "I'm not unfaithful, I never was." She replies, "You will be." The hegemonic interpretation, presumably meant by the creators of the series, is that Sam is about to cheat on Jessica with the murderous ghost (with or without his consent). But Sam being targeted can be interpreted in another way. Is he going to betray his girlfriend by wanting to return to the life he shared with Dean and their father? Or even, can it be said that he did not betray her, but his brother, by leaving the family and trying to live a "normal" life with a woman?

The scene on the bridge, in which another confrontation takes place between Sam and Dean, can also be interpreted in two ways. Sam says, half in mockery and half in pity, "Mom is dead, and nothing will bring her back." Dean, in a fit of rage, grabs his brother and slams him at one of the bridge poles. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." This is of course one meaning of things. Another meaning could be, "Dean, I moved on, and nothing will bring me back." To this Dean responds in the only way he knows, "don't you dare not give up on me like that." Throughout the episode, and in this scene in particular, Dean repeatedly mocks Sam's choice to leave college - "Do you really think you're going to become a lawyer? Marry your girl?" - And this ridicule can stem from jealousy over the seemingly perfect and normal life that Sam managed to achieve, but at its core is another jealousy: Sam chose this life over a life with him.

The series hit screens in 2005. About two months after the premiere of the first episode, a blog review titled "Supermatural is Supergay" was published. The author described the series as follows:

It’s like the Hardy Boys, only gayer. I love the awkward sexual tension between the brothers. […] So Dean is the super control freak “top”. He has to be driving at all times. […] Sam rides in the passenger seat. He’s the soft spoken bottom boy, always staring out the window in this deep, dreamy state of mind. No idea what the hell he’s thinking about, but I suspect he is wondering where this relationship is going, and if Dean will ever say “I love you”.

Wait a minute… don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about incest here. See, that's the backstory. They are not really brothers. They are secret lovers, hiding their dirty affair. So they pretend to be brothers so nobody questions why they are together 24/7, why they share a bed. […] Throughout the episodes, they give each other hot glances. It’s never part of the dialogue, they just look like they will rip each other’s clothes off at any given moment. […]

UPDATE: On last Tuesday's episode, "Bugs", they were mistaken for a gay couple and then pretended to be a gay couple in the next scene. See, I told you they are gay guys pretending to be brothers. You heard it here first.

Although the writer was wrong in his assumption - Sam and Dean are indeed brothers - he makes a claim that will receive many reinforcements from the fans. There is a certain tension between the two characters, a codependence bordering on desperation that often later in the show will cause them to take extreme steps to keep each other safe. The brothers' love borders on obsession, which caused many fans to agree with the blogger's opinion - just a week after the first episode was aired, the first online community dedicated to the romantic relationship between the two brothers already opened (sn_slash, or Supernatural Slash, "for all your brotherly needs"). It is difficult to say whether the homoerotic clues came from the creators and were picked up by the audience, or whether the audience interpreted the show as he wished and the creators decided to satisfy their desires, but throughout the series there is recognition of the two's special relationship: In "Bugs" [1x08], everyone is convinced they are a couple and they continue the pretense; In later seasons, the brothers discover that books are being written about their lives, and that many fans of these books are convinced they are a couple (in "The Real Ghostbusters" [5x09] in the Supernatural convention, there is a panel called "The Homoerotic Undertones in Supernatural"); And many of the characters in the series, even those who know about the two being brothers, describe their relationship as one of codependence, blind and absolute love, for which they often sacrifice the entire world ("Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other", [5x19] "The point of no return").

Did the creators not understand that this is the message they are transmitting? It is hard to believe that they were unanimous on the subject, especially in light of all the reflexive references they themselves have planted in the show. If so, what could be their reason for engaging in a relationship that is fundamentally unnatural, perverse and forbidden, socially and often legally? This can be explained with the help of another issue - that of the exclusion of LGBTQ+ relationships from the public sphere and the lack of legitimacy for their visibility. Supernatural hit the screens in 2005, a time that may not seem so long ago, but its gay visibility is still lacking, and in which there was still no legitimacy to present a proud couple in popular culture. Maybe, as the blogger suggested in his review, the creators genuinely wanted to create a series that would center around love between two men, but felt that the world was not ready to see that content explicitly. After all, it was only a few decades ago that homosexuality was also perceived as unnatural, perverse and forbidden. Maybe acknowledging that, the creators chose to turn Sam and Dean into brothers, as if to reassure the conservatives: of course they are not just two men who are together at any given moment, staring at each other longingly and willing to sacrifice the whole world just so they won't be left without each other. That could be interpreted as homosexuality - and beyond the harsh criticism, such TV series simply wouldn't survive (or at least, that is how the creators may have felt at the time). And if some of the fans understood the true meaning in which the creators wanted engage, well, that was not in their hands.

To sum up, it is difficult to argue that this relationship is characterized as purely platonic. Even if the creators did not intend to create such an impression already in the first episode, they were aware of this impression and included explicit references to this unusual relationship. Although only an analysis of the first episode was conducted here, throughout the entire series there are unequivocal statements that support this assumption (some of which I mentioned above, but most of which have been omitted). And perhaps there is no need for many words beyond those uttered by the brothers themselves, for the first time in the pilot, and for the last time in the finale ("Carry on" [15x20]), before they said goodbye to each other for the last time: "I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

#wincest #meta #sam x dean #pilot #i wish all my school papers could be about wincest #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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kominum · 3 years

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semoto (corpse x fem!reader)

4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions

pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context.

basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:

sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life.

sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while

sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.

sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.

fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension.

1. “Whaddup, baby?”

Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack.

Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let��s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off,

About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.

The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.

You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t.

“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”

“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”

“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.”

You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.

2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.

You’re so tired.

Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver.

But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls.

The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.”

“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony.

“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”

“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”

“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”

“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Not your baby, piss off!”

3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”

It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.

Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”

There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis.

“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine.

“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”

Warmth. Strength. Oblivion.

“I know. Thank you.”

4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.”

“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly.

“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”

“I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way.

The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name.

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”

“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.”

“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”

“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?”

“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”

“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately.

“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night.

And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.

That you have no one else but Corpse.

5. “He was never yours.”

There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times.

This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak.

You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech.

“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”

Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void.

“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all.

“Are they talking about Corpse?”

“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”

“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”

“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind.

“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here.

“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.

“Is this a fucking test--”

Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be.

“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”

It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”

“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”

Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?

And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee.

“Do I have to give you an answer?”

“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”

They what? This was certainly news to you.

“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively.

Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--

“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”

You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more.

“You have 10 seconds.”

You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long.

The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage.

They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives.

“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”

It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run.

You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.

And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve.

But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--

Forever out of reach.

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x fem reader #corpse husband angst #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband

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sukumen · 3 years

Text

hooray for 2.5k!

i know i must sound like a broken record, but god - thank you all so much for the love you show me and my writing! this blog has been so much fun to run with all of you, and i look forward to sharing the work i have coming up outside of my ask drabbles.

this milestone celebration is two-fold - i wanted to do a follow forever and shout out the folks who have been super supportive of me. but there is, as always, some ask games too! see details for everything below the cut and again - thank you so, so much for 2.5k. love y’all to pieces!

SHOUTOUTS

to new friends, old friends, and the people who are always showing love - i appreciate you all so much! this isn’t to say that other followers don’t matter, but just that i remember urls easily and have seen a lot of you in my activity since day one and really really want you to know that it means a lot 💕

@wasabito / @flintstrikes / @suedebunn / @sadpieceofbread / @3rdgymbros / @cocotaku420 / @vennilavee / @jae-ren / @melremade / @caffeinated--writer / @peqchynero / @kittaliapenn / @otptododeku / @oikawabreakme / @ferals-writing / @jotazinha / @xphantasiafantasy / @saintdabi / @h-awkks / @ringpop-poppy / @baodown / @kuroosusagichan / @solitairesins / @hanniemilk / @hilarybuffbo / @holyhidan / @simpforcorpse / @strawwberrymilk666 / @mithridatized / @mariola-writes / @natxchan / @underlevisboot / @akiowrites / @verystudentwagonmonger / @ghost-party / @gojosattoru / @bloomyagi / @stfurintaro / @kakashisthickthighs / @luuvi

big love as well to all my lovely anons - i feel honored to have each and everyone one of you!

ASK GAMES

for the ask games, i will be taking a slightly different approach given my work schedule for the next couple weeks. i will be giving folks a week to submit their requests without posting any of them during that time, then will use the next two-three weeks to write everything. some things may fall outside of that since i would like to work on one-off asks or my wips in between, but my goal is to finish everything submitted this time around.

so, to recap: requests are open from now until march 26th and ideally, all requests will be posted before april 23.

> send a character + one word and i will write a headcanon! if you want this headcanon to include a reader character, please specify; otherwise, it could either be a solo headcanon with a focus on character development or a x reader ship headcanon, depending on inspiration.

> send a character + one trope from the list below and i will write a summary and snippet for the fic i would do for the combination! each trope can only be used once, so this will be first come, first served!

a/b/o au snagged by @kuroosusagichan

historical au (feel free to specify era) snagged by @baodown

royalty au (could be historical or modern) snagged by anon for: iwaizumi.

supernatural / monster au (feel free to specify monster) snagged by @morallygreyish

single parent or pregnancy or kidfic au snagged by anon for: sakusa.

road trip au snagged by anon for yuuji.

apocalyptic / post-apocalyptic au snagged by @cursedivine

crime / mafia / heist au snagged by anon for: dabi.

magic/witches/wizards au snagged by @jae-ren.

fake dating au snagged by anon for: gojou.

college au snagged by anon for: hawks.

friends or fwb to lovers au snagged by anon for: sukuna.

enemies to lovers au snagged by @cocotaku420

exes to lovers au snagged by @saintdabi

camboy / camgirl au ( requestor cannot be anon and must be 18+ ) snagged by @alrightberries!

soulmates au snagged by @suedebunn

flower shop or tattoo parlor au (you can pick!) snagged by @flintstrikes

crossover au (you can pick the two shows) snagged by anon for jjk and kny

amnesia au snagged by anon for: sukuna.

unrequited love au snagged by anon for megumi.

mutual pining / miscommunication au snagged by anon for: todoroki.

poly ship au (specify characters) snagged by anon for: megumi and inumaki.

love triangle au (specify characters) snagged by @imunraveled

arranged marriage au snagged by @caffeinated--writer

coffee shop au snagged by anon for: itadori.

“there’s only one bed!” snagged by @ghost-party

fairytale au (you can pick the fairytale) snagged by @mithridatized

sugar daddy / momma au snagged by anon for: toji.

> send a character + a lyric from any song in this playlist and i will write a drabble; word minimum will be 100. note: songs can be used multiple times as long as it isn’t the same lyric + character combination.

characters i write for here - happy requesting!

#hooray for 2.5k tag.#💕💕

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zodiyack · 4 years

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Opposites Attract (1,000+ Follower Special!!)

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Female!Pierce/Petrova!Reader

Warnings: Possibly swearing?, fluff, indications of smut??, death/mentions of death, slight angst/violence, I think that’s all

Words: 1,667

Summary: The younger sister of Katherine was the true owner of Damon’s heart, Katherine only being his worry in 1864 due to the sister’s bond, the bond that fueled Katherine to force Y/n to join her when she escaped Mystic Falls and left Damon to think they were both in the tomb.

Note: I have no idea what to say honestly... I’ve been gone due to troubles with my computer yet you guys stuck around and that’s what matters to me. Though I may have a bit of a hard time with words, I hope you guys know that you all mean so much to me 💕💕

And if you’d like me to make a part two, which I’m already planning on doing- I just really liked the ending, or make this a series, feel free to let me know!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI.

1864

Her back hit the wall, lips molded with his as their tongues clashed in a hungry passion. Her fingers played with his hair and pulled his face and body closer to hers. With his hands trapping her against the wall, she felt content.

“Turn me.”

“I can’t, Da-”

“Don’t. I understand, Katherine and all that...but promise me that one day, you’ll escape her grasp and run away with me.” She forced herself to look into Damon’s eyes, her undead heart breaking at the sorrow that drowned in his blue orbs. “Please?”

“I can’t make any promises...” she paused involuntarily, her heightened hearing catching a sudden ruckus from Stefan’s room and stealing her attention. Damon frowned, adjusting his grip on her waist to pull her back to reality. “I...I just can’t right now. However,” the smile returned to his lips, “one day, I will find you. And if you still want to...you may take me up on that promise, Salvatore.”

He was ready to answer when his door burst open and he and Y/n pulled away in a panic. His father stared down Y/n with a great furry in his body. She didn’t say a word, simply kissing Damon softly and nodding to Mr. Salvatore.

“Father- please-”

“No. She’s a monster, Damon! Her sister is a monster! They are monsters! Don’t you see that? She’ll kill you if you give her the chance. The same goes for Stefan and the other Pierce girl. If they’re even girls.” He mumbled the last bit of his sentence, too caught up in the belief that they were pure evil to consider any other possibility.

“She’s not a mons-”

“Yes. She is. Now, enough! I’m already ashamed of your siding with the demons, there is no need to make it worse, boy!” Mr. Salvatore grunted and put a muzzle-like-mask over Y/n’s head and called out to the rest of the hunters, watching as she was dragged away with a grimace upon his face.

Whilst Damon was traumatized, angry at his father and the world for their cruel decisions for his life, he attempted at keeping a neutral, unphased expression. “What will happen to her?”

“The same thing that will happen to the other monsters; she’ll burn.”

Present Day

Damon continued pacing throughout the house, ignoring Stefan’s pleas for him to stop. He thought about what Emily had told him, and what he needed to do. He had everything he needed, what was stopping him from going to the tomb? A gut feeling? Life? Was he just a big chicken?

He took a breather, telling himself to think about the reason he was in this mess. It was for a girl. The love of his life, to be specific. Y/n Pierce. The lovely lady who had come to stay with the Salvatore brothers after her and her sister’s parents had burnt with their home.

They felt pity for the girls, taking them in and, from then on, starting their odd journey through the supernatural world. Y/n was the first to reveal her secret; pulling away from a kiss with Damon due to her loss of control over her vampire features.

Though normally he’d be afraid, Damon had gripped her chin and forced her to look at him, awe and interest shining on his face. It was that night that he confessed his love for her, promising to take her away one day.

He chuckled at the memory, wiping his thumb across his lips. Damon remembered the taste of her lips like it was yesterday. The delicate softness paired with the lustful desire of their kisses was perfection. The kisses they had shared held something no one else could give him.

Despite occasionally hooking up with a girl or two, he was still on the search for his long lost lover. Deep down, he knew the sex was just for a distraction; even if he didn’t want to think of it as such, he knew that he was constantly comparing them to Y/n. Sometimes verbally, sometimes mentally, either way- the comments were always about the woman his heart belonged really to.

“Damon. Why are you really here?”

To find Y/n and stay true to my promise. “Just to be with you, little brother! Is it wrong that I want some bonding time with my little bro?”

“For you? Yes.” Stefan made it a point to avoid and ignore Damon as much as possible, especially with a girlfriend to protect from his ‘evil’ also-vampire brother. “Now, I’m going to ask you again. Why are you really here?”

Damon sighed. “You already know that Stefan.”

Now that Damon was closer than ever to opening the tomb, he was more than ready to reveal his true intentions. Stefan believed Damon was after Katherine, pleading him to leave as soon as they got out of the tomb. But in reality, Damon could care less about that vampire. He just wanted Y/n, but with the sisters being closer than anything he’d ever seen, he had no choice but to rescue Katherine as well.

If he was lucky, Katherine would allow Y/n to stray from her and stay with Damon, but he had a feeling that would never happen. Not with how possessive Katherine was. How she insisted that blood, as well as herself, went first.

1864

“We need to go back to them!” Y/n tried to run to her lover’s body. Her heart was racing. She’d come back to find that her beloved had been shot dead, his brother the same. Before Y/n could reach the man, Katherine gripped her waist and held her back, stronger than her younger sister due to being older in human and vampire years.

Y/n was the one Petrova to have escaped Klaus in his act of revenge. To be fair, it wasn’t his fault that he missed her. She was out picking berries, going about her life normally, before returning to a bloodied home with the bodies of the people she loved strewn about messily.

She remembered falling to her knees and cursing at whatever entity seemed to be there. Whether it was God or some other being, she demanded, through sobs, to know what she had done to deserve it.

Then, as if her prayer-like-yells of agony had been answered, Katerina showed up at the doorway. Her reaction was similar to Y/n’s; first, processing what she was seeing, then, feeling the fear freeze her in place, and finally, screaming and trying to shake her family awake, hoping as much as she could that it was all a dream.

Y/n walked from her hiding spot slowly, still shaking from her discovery but much more calmed with the presence of her older sister. “Who would do such a thing?”

She swore she could never forget the rage, paired with terror, in her sister’s eyes. “Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson did this.”

That very day, she turned her sister. She explained that they would live long enough to either kill Klaus and get revenge, or plea for his forgiveness and live their lives once more.

Snapping out of her memory fueled trance, Y/n broke free of her sister’s arms and dropped to the ground beside Damon. She pulled his head onto her lap and brushed his dark curls from his face. She chuckled to herself when she noticed her tears dropping onto his face.

“Goodbye, my love.” Y/n pressed a kiss to his forehead, then one on the tip of his nose. Finally, one on his lips, staying a little longer than the others as she savored the intimacy in their final goodbye. “If I only I had told you yes...”

She left her sister to say her goodbye to Stefan, wiping her tears away as she felt what was left of her heart crumble into bits.

Once, she had a family. And then she had her sister. Then she had her sister and an owner to her heart, the feeling of humanity returning to her undead body, feeling alive for the first time since her transition.

Now? She was back to having only her sister.

Damon felt the same way.

When he had woken, taking time to recover from the shock of being alive. Emily had told him how Katherine compelled Stefan to drink her blood, and he already knew that he drank Y/n’s blood willingly.

“There’s no point in living.” Damon pleaded with his brother after he tried to get him to feed, “They’re dead.”

Present Day

He ran into the tomb, desperate to find the sister of the vampire doppelganger. Damon sighed, ‘speaking of doppelgangers’, Elena had followed him, ignoring Sheila and Bonnie’s warnings.

“What’s that sound?”

“They can smell you.” He made his way through the tomb, eyes traveling from one decayed vampire to the other, cursing to himself each time they weren’t Y/n. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t give up. At some point, he’d gotten separated from Elena, but he didn’t care- never faltering in his search.

After spending more time looking for the vampire with negative results, Stefan had rushed in. He seemed anxious, desperate, ready to plead. And that he was. “Damon. We have to go.”

“She’s not here...” He felt like he was having a panic attack, which was more than likely. Damon threw the blood bag he had brought for her against the wall, “She’s- she’s not here, Stefan!”

“Who? Katherine? Look, I’m sorry that she’s not here, but we need to go!”

“No! Not Katherine! Y/n! She’s- she’s gone...she’s gone Stef.” Stefan furrowed his brows, feeling sympathy for his brother for a split second, then realizing how much time they were wasting.

“I’m sorry... Okay Damon? Maybe she didn’t die-”

“Don’t get my hopes up, alright?”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Really, I am. But- we need to go, like, right now.” He grabbed his brother and sped him out, gaining a boost with his vampire speed. The entire time he thought his brother was after the bad sister, but he was after the good one.

Opposites really do attract.

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jupitermelichios · 4 years

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10 Manga Recommendations for Quarantine (or any other time)

People seemed to like my previous recs, so I thought I’d do a few more while so many of you are stuck home with some free time to kill. I don’t read a lot of manga these days, and my tastes are somewhat ecclectic, but hopefully there’ll be something in here for you.

20th Century Boys - Naoki Urasawa

Kenji didn’t like that a new doomsday cult had started recruiting in his neighbourhood, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. As least until a letter from an old friend leads him to realise that the cult’s symbols and mythology are based on a children’s story. A story he and his friends made up thirty years ago. Now he must track down people he hasn’t seen since middle school as he desperately tries to remember which of his friends knew the story... and figure out which of them is leading the cult.

This isn’t just the best manga I’ve ever read, it’s one of the best stories full stop. Even if you think you hate manga, I urge you to give this a try.

Claymore - Norihiro Yagi

Claire was never supposed to be a Claymore. But when Theresa of the faint smile saved her life as a child, she knew there was no other path for her. With few of the supernatural powers granted to her sisters, she struggles to survive as a monster hunter in a brutal world where death is always waiting.

This was serialised in Shounen Jump originally, and it shows in places, but mostly this is a compelling drama, with some of the most startlingly beautiful and horrible monster design in all of fantasy and scifi.

Drrr!!! - Ryohgo Narita (illustrated by Akiyo Satorigi)

Nothing in Ikebukero is quite what it seems. The Russian Mafia sell the best sushi in town, demons are haunting the chatrooms, there’s a new gang on the streets, and if you’re really unlucky, you might just meet the Black Rider. They say its bike whinnies like a horse. They say it killed three men who tried to kidnap a girl. They say it has no head. They say... that it just wants to do the job and get paid like everyone else.

Drrr!!! is an experience. It blends fantasy and realism in ways I’ve very rarely seen done, and delights in subverting your expectations. Characters who appears to fit into archetypes any manga fan will recognise never turn out to be quite who you think they are, just as the story never quite goes where you expect it to.

Petshop of Horrors - Matsuri Akino

Do you want a protector? A companion? A friend? A lover? A child? Whatever you need, Count D has the perfect pet for you (even if they don’t always look like animals). Just remember to read the small print, very very carefully.

While there is, sort of, an overarching plot, these books are portmanteu horror in the old style, a series of barely connected unsettling stories strung together by a shared narrator and a handful of recurring characters. Spoopy more than genuinely spooky, and occaisionally surprisingly touching, this is a great series to dip in and out of.

Death Note - Tsugumi Ohba (illustrated by Takeshi Obata)

“Let's just say this: you will feel the fear and pain known only to humans who've used the notebook. And when it's your time to die, it will fall on me to write your name in my death note. Be warned any human who's used a Death Note can neither go to heaven nor hell for eternity. That's all.“

One of the very rare examples where the source material does live up to (almost all) the hype. Clever, dark, surprisingly apolitical, and just the right amount of very very cheesy.

Tokyo Ghoul - Sui Ishida

Keneki Ken was an extremely ordinary guy, living an extremely ordinary life... right up until the girl he fancied tried to eat him. Now he’s part of the world of Ghouls, struggling to hold on to what’s left of his humanity as all his old moral certainties are stripped away from him. Ghouls are people, they have hopes and dreams and loves and they deserve the right to live just like anyone else. It’s just that to live, they have kill humans.

Did you want to be cool and edgy as a teenager but you never quite had the guts to do it? Congratulations, Tokyo ghoul is for you. Think of it as emergency rations for your inner Goth.

Black Cat - Kentaro Yabuki

Sometimes a family is a legendary hitman on the run from his past, his mysterious boyfriend, a recovering child soldier, and the bisexual thief who keeps inviting herself into their lives.

Okay technically Train and Sven aren’t a couple. Technically. Rins is canon bi though so that’s cool. This book is a lovely little time capsule of the days when shonen manga was inexplicably full of bounty hunters with bizarre superpowers going on wacky adventures, and I love it for that. Plus it’s full of that good-good found family trope and we could all do with a bit more of that in our lives.

Beauty Pop - Kiyoko Arai

Kiri Koshiba is no ordinary teenager. She has a secret, something she hides from even those closest to her. The only ones who know about her special abilities are those she rescues. You see Kiri is secretly... really good at giving haircuts.

This is a deeply silly book, full of deeply silly characters, in which hairdressing is treated with the exact same seriousness that sports animes treat basketball or tennis, and reading it just makes me smile. Sometimes when the world’s a bit shit you just want to read about an undercover hairdresser helping girls with their self confidence and giving them rad haircuts.

Bizenghast - M. Alice LeGrow

Dinah Wherever is more goth than you. She’s got the wardrobe, and the doomed love, and non-specific mental health issues. Oh, and she’s enslaved to Bizenghast, cursed to spend her nights laying to rest the unquiet spirits that haunt the graveyard there and if she fails, she’ll loose her life... or something worse.

The first volume is definitely the standout in this short series, with stunning artwork and detailed world building, but all of it is a fun, creepy, surprisingly dark story, full of the author’s love for old school gothic romance.

The Wallflower - Tomoko Hayakawa

Mine Nakahara is concerned that her neice Sunako is never going attract a wealthy husband with a mysterious heart condition if she doesn’t learn not to be such a shut in. So in desperation, she turns to the only obvious solution - give four well-meaning himbos rent free accomodation in exchange for them teaching Sunako to wash, wear something other than sweatpants, and talk about anything that isn’t horror movies.

Sometimes you don’t want drama, or angst, or deep plot. Sometimes it’s enough to watch four attractive and deeply stupid men try to teach the human equivilent of an angry raccoon how to walk in heels.

#20th century boys #drrr #death note #claymore #petshop of horrors #the wallflower #perfect girl evolution #beauty pop #tokyo ghoul #bizenghast #long post #manga #manga review #manga rec list #manga rec #manga recommendation #jupiters top 10 #top 10 manga #black cat

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captainrexisboo · 4 years

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In A Single Night

Here it is, my lads and ladies and lovers. Only six hours after posting the promo lmao. Sitting at 1685 words, this is the first chapter to my WereRex AU (accidentally prompted by this ask), as well as my first installation of my Monster!Clones series (because apparently I have no self control).

This specific AU takes place during some vague historical time period, outside the Star Wars universe. More supernatural and magic than sci-fi. It is a romance! But, I don’t think it’ll be explicit. There will be very loose reminiscing of lovemaking, but no detail will be shared (yet- I mean c’mon, it’s me).

In this chapter, there will be warnings such as: body horror (not gore tho), the act of pinning, An Anxiety Attack, and An Actual Attack (again, no gore), and ANGST

Tag list will be in the replies, let me know if you would like to be added! Thank you all for your support, and as always any comments are welcome!!! Happy reading!!!

Edit: link to pt2

“Rex!”

Your whispered shout cut sharply through the still night air, not daring to be any louder. You’re not sure what you were afraid of, there was nothing in the woods to fear- except for the reason you were there to begin with. The pressure of the task at hand made your head swim, and the anxiety from terror made your hands shake, thinking of what you witnessed, your grandmother’s age-old guidance, and Cody’s blessing, it all came crashing down onto you in frantic waves.

You forced down a breath, the air scratching down your dried throat. Eyes frantic, you glanced in every direction, praying you found him before he found you. Your grip tightened on the rim of the helmet- of his helmet- and you stared into the blue jaig eyes that graced the front of the dome. It was the only bit of armor you brought with you, the most familiar to use, the only other clothes being his nightwear. The entire armored set and flowing blue mantle that he wore about the castle would’ve been too much to carry, too heavy. You needed to be able to move quickly, which was already proving difficult in the dense underbrush of the overgrown forest that he had escaped into, the leaves and low branches making your trek much noisier than you would have preferred. Dried twigs snapped under your boots, and every rustle from a night critter or chirps from various insects made you spin around with shoulders raised, terrified but ready to commit to the mission at hand- bring Captain Rex home.

You couldn’t believe it when only hours ago you witnessed the esteemed Captain fall into a frantic heap into the grass, a terrible aching cry ripping from his throat at the edge of town, the giant archway of the tall brick barrier that surrounded the village framing his crumpled body. He had been waiting for you, he had asked to meet under the light of the moon tonight while he was on break from patrol, just outside the town gates. You were about to run to the aid of your lover when something cold ran down your spine. An instinct to stop, stay out of sight- you’re unsure if it was the force of the raw wail or the way he seemed to be moving under his jacket...as if the muscles formed underneath his skin were realigning, morphing, writhing...growing.

You stood back, frozen, breathless. You couldn’t tear your widening eyes away. Especially when you saw the thick fabric of his pristine white coat begin to tear and rip, partially from the swelling of his form, but also shredding from the clawing of his shaking hands, as if the material were burning him and he needed it off as soon as possible. Underneath, instead of the tanned expanse of scarred skin you thought you knew so well, was a coating of shining blond hair, almost a soft golden in the glinting moonlight. His screaming had subsided, but you could still hear his rough, ragged, deep breathing, even from how far away you were. His grunting and groaning were painful, you could tell his throat was already scarring from the harmful strain of voice, and yet he still found it in himself to howl into the night sky, throwing his head back in a gruesome, bitter ballad to the full moon above you. As the furious sound waned from him, you could see his form slacken in relief. His breathing was heavy, laced with an outraged growling. He moved from being lurched over on his knees to gaining onto his haunches. Where you thought he would be shaky, you noticed him channeling whatever was left of himself into standing up with his signature battle-ready grace.

He stood tall, like usual...but with an extra two feet added to his height. The blond coating of, not hair, but thick, coarse fur, extended over his limbs, bristling in the cool of the night. His form not only stood taller, but also gave him a wider stance, even with hunched shoulders he was hulking, skin nearly ripping at the sudden growth. He rolled his neck and shoulders back, the sudden crack of settling bones finally bringing your lungs back to life as you took a gasping breath, a single stumbling step backwards- you were too loud. He whipped his head around to face you with a wild snarl, bounding to you, covering nearly two hundred meters in a matter of seconds. You shrieked, falling back onto the uneven cobblestone as he was suddenly on top of you, caging you beneath him in his new massive form, your heart hammering as whimpers stuttered past your quivering lips, his hot breath washing over your face, claws cracking into the hard rock next to your cheeks, threatening to cut at your hair.

His plush, bow-shaped lips curled over to showcase protruding fangs, mere inches away from your face as you flattened yourself against the cold hard ground, practically trying to will yourself beneath the surface before the unthinkable could happen. His face kept most of his shape, nose a little longer, a little pointed upwards, and jaw widened as if to take mauling bites out of anything- no, out of anyone. His normally cleanly shaven face was covered in the same fur as the rest of him, except for where his brows had been. The fur there was almost forming something like a dark mask, making a T-shape over his eyes and nose. All of this you could take in stride as he sniffed over you, you could stand any of this transformation as he kept you trapped below him, but it was his eyes that had you quaking.

His kind, honeyed stare, the irises that held such adoration and desire for you as you whispered promises of love and devotion to each other behind dark corners and between soft bed sheets- that was gone. No trace of your dearest paramour to be found. Instead it was a fiery golden gaze, a purely carnal type of hunger, and for what you couldn’t be sure. His pupils had shrunk into pinpoints, surveying you like a piece of meat, like a meal. He opened his mouth with a throaty growl, baring his teeth to you even more, craning down to your neck with thick saliva dripping from his maw. As his teeth skimmed over your flesh, just before they could pierce through, is when you finally found your voice, previously dammed from terror, choking out a broken, “Rex, please…”

He paused at his name. Holding over you, as still as the hanging moon, upright ear twitching in response to your begging. Your breath shakes in anticipation, tremors running through your otherwise petrified body. He rears his head back harshly, suddenly, letting out a grim bark, and you screw your eyes shut tight to brace for the searing pain of your ripping flesh...that never comes. After a thick moment of watching the synapses of nerves spark behind your eyelids, you blink them open, slowly shifting up onto trembling elbows just in time to see him disappear into the shadows of the trees.

You’re terrified.

You want to cry.

You don’t understand what’s happening, so you stay lying on the ground, curling in on yourself as you silently sob out his name. You roll to your side, letting fat tears stream down your face, throwing your hand over your mouth as you push out heaving breaths, seeing the sharply pierced stone next to your head, splintering cracks coming from each hole at the force with which they were made. You laid there for what felt like hours, alone, shaking, small under the laughing moon. Emotion wracked through you, storming through your mind and body until you were left rasping for precious oxygen, completely emptied of your tears, the streaks having marked their pathway down your cheeks and neck to under the collar of your shirt.

Something whispers at the back of your mind as you’re coming down from your rush, a suddenly clear vision of your childhood, your grandmother telling you stories of shapeshifting beasts. Simultaneously man and monster, both in body and soul. You had asked her before she tucked you into bed once, while you were throwing on the covers and trying to blink away fatigue to finish the tall tale, “Is there any way to change them back? Aren’t they still human under their fur?”

She looked wistful then, staring out the window of your bedside, looking up into the moon. A sensitive shine came across her gaze, delicately reflecting the candlelight as she spoke so quietly you had to strain to hear her, even in the hush of your bedroom.

“If there’s someone who loves the beast enough, despite knowing their cursed form, underneath the light of the stars they can present the fanged horror with clothes-”

“Clothes? Grandmere, that doesn’t sound very-”

“Very what? Extravagant? Magical?” she chuckled, a little broken, wiping away sitting tears on her lashes, “Child, love is the most magical thing in the world. If it’s love in the purest form, telling the beast to come home, it will leave it’s brutish whims behind and dutifully follow it’s love back to the safety of a warm bed.”

She touched the garish scar you knew hid under her blouse, drawing in a sharp, shaking breath as her fingers traced the marred pink flesh of her shoulder, “If it’s not true… they’ll leave you. They’ll lose their last bit of humanity in that moment. Make you wish you had spared the energy you’d used to find them to begin with.”

You crash back into reality, her warning sitting heavy in your mind. You finally sat up, still in the middle of the empty road, surrounded by the dark windows of closed shops showing you your ragged reflection. You dusted off, getting onto wobbling legs before stalking off towards the castle. More specifically, the soldiers’ dormitory.

If the memory held any truth, then you didn’t have much time. You had to find his brother.

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ash-rigby · 3 years

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Tag Game!

Thanks for the tag, @feral-ella-flynn!

1. Why did you choose your URL?

It’s just my pseudonym. The thing is that I’m actually working on a full-length novel right now and I hope to do others in the future, but I wanted to keep my monster erotica stories separate from that because it’s possible that minors will read my other books and I don’t want them to find this stuff if they happen to try and look up my real name. So, I created Ash Rigby as a name to share my monsterfucking stuff under and it’s very unlikely that I’ll make my real name public. But if I do ever decide to develop one or more of my short stories into novels (Pleasing The Prince is the one I’m thinking of doing this with some day because it’s still my favourite one that I’ve written so far), they will of course be published under this pseudonym.

2. Any side blogs?

Nope. I don’t know what I’d make a side blog about. I’m already a public monsterfucker here lol.

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

This blog has only been around for a couple years, but my I started my first ever tumblr blog back in 2011. It probably surprises no one that I was BIG into Supernatural at the time. It was also just your basic multi-fandom blog in general. I deleted that one though because I wanted to start fresh shortly after I realized that I was nonbinary; so around late 2018. I still use that relatively new blog, but I’m honestly logged into this one more often than not because it’s more fun.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Nope!

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I wanted another place to share my stories and create a decent mostly monster-based blog.

6. Why did you choose your icon?

I doodled this one up in about 10 minutes. It was honestly just an excuse to draw some sharp teeth and I liked it well enough to make it my icon.

7. Why did you choose your header?

Do I really need to explain the tentacles?

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

I think at the time of writing this it’s the Marge Simpson meme I made about just thinking monsters with really long tongues are neat. It’s either that or the monster men getting pegged post. The people have good taste; what can I say?

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Quite a few! Mostly other exophilia lovers/creators.

10. How many followers do you have?

I just hit 1k the other day which was exciting! The count’s a little over that right now.

11. How many people do you follow?

156.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

Oh, absolutely. Monsterfucking lends itself well to them.

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

I always have the tab open whenever I’m on my computer so it probably looks like I’m on it for way longer that I am, but I only actually check it for maybe twenty minutes to half an hour here and there through the day.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

Nope. Everyone I’ve interacted with has been lovely and no animosity has come my way yet. I think it’s partly due to me keeping anon off though. People who want to start shit are cowards that way.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

I really dislike it it when posts are worded that way. I don’t need a guilt trip to reblog important information or whatever it is.

16. Do you like tag games?

Sure! They’re pretty fun.

17. Do you like ask games?

Yes! Feel free to send me asks, folks! Contrary to my icon, I don’t bite.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I don’t really know. It’s hard to have a sense for that.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No, but a few of them have some TASTY ocs.

20. No pressure tags:

Like it says, don’t feel pressured to do this, but I thought I’d spread the love to:

@sharklysweet @star-clad-dragon @beetle-drip

#text #long post #tag game #about me

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missroserose · 4 years

Text

all you touch and all you see

“So...why are we here?”

A moment of silence. Fingers tighten around a trendy reusable mug. Green eyes flick up, meet his, far more sincere than he could have imagined, even a week ago.

“I can’t explain it. I’m just...more myself, when you’re around.”

Sam Wesson is dreaming. Well, half-dreaming; awake enough that he can tell that he’s lying in bed on sheets with some ridiculous thread count, covers bunched around his legs, the cool constant breeze of the ceiling fan blowing over his sleep-warm chest. At the same time, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of an old muscle car, rain tapping on the roof and hissing beneath the tires. The thrum of the V8 permeates his whole body as he flips through papers, research for the next job. The automatic reverse on the tape deck clicks over, and Sam wonders how many times Dean’s played this exact Led Zeppelin album on this very deck. A hundred? A thousand?

Dean. Dean is there in both worlds, beside him. He glances over to where this Dean is squinting through the rain. Takes in his scruffy jacket and worn shirt, hair standing on end in places, the ketchup stain on his jeans from his lunchtime drive-through burger. It’s such a contrast to the Dean beside him in the bed, the Dean of suspenders and suits and Brylcreemed hair, the environmentally conscious vegetarian Dean who wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car that got fewer than thirty miles to the gallon.

And yet, there are tells. Little commonalities, signs that the two of them aren’t as different as they might look. The way their eyes narrow slightly when faced with something they don’t immediately understand. Their absolute disdain for talking about feelings any more than strictly necessary. Their unbridled fierceness when they take on a threat, corporate or noncorporeal.

The way they both love Sam. Fierce. Devoted. Protective to a degree that makes Sam wonder, sometimes. Or would, if he weren’t every bit as smitten.

Sam isn’t sure what to say to that. It’s disconcerting, seeing Dean in casual clothes—still natty in a sweater and slacks, but his hair is carefully (and attractively) mussed, his posture a fraction looser. He keeps quiet, keeps his face open. Knows, somehow, that this is the best way to keep people talking.

“You bring out something good in me. If I’m going to keep climbing the corporate ladder, I need someone to help me remember I'm not actually in hell, you know?”

Sam can’t blame Dean for staying at Sandover, not really. He’s on the fast track, in a position most people their generation would kill for. Especially with the economy the way it is, steady jobs with good salaries and benefits are nothing to sneeze at. Working as an executive is prestigious; it’s not like he was a cubicle jockey, subject to the indignities of unflattering uniforms and unsavory coworkers. Dean is on his way up.

Sam, meanwhile, was on his way out.

The week after his slightly dramatic walkout, he’d been making serious plans to go hunting alone. Spent his days poring over newspapers, looking for strange deaths or weird occurrences; imagined sniffing out supernatural threats, saving people. He applied for a loan for a car—found a great deal on a Dodge Charger—and dedicated an afternoon to looking up supplies he might need to kit it out properly. It was terrifying and exhilarating reading, realizing how much might be out there, how many beings he had yet to encounter, how much studying there was to do. What to look for, what to pack, where to even begin.

Perhaps most saliently, his dreams—the strange, inexplicable dreams that had haunted him during his entire three weeks at Sandover, where he hunted things, where Dean was his partner, continually present—had stopped.

Then Dean Smith had called and asked him for coffee.

Dean’s eyes meet his again, just briefly, before dropping, a charmingly bashful smile spreading over his face. “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck, looking away. “It’s just, if you wanted...I think we could have a good time together.”

They do have a good time together—it’s a little surprising, really, the uptight executive and the slacker cubicle jockey pairing off. But they share a love of bad action movies, and a passion for video games; Sam hasn’t had his ass kicked so thoroughly and consistently in Halo 3 since college. But even beyond that, it was like their rhythms are aligned; they fall into cohabiting in Dean’s tiny apartment almost immediately, as if they’re already entirely used to living in each others’ pockets. Work during the day. Chores on weekends. And at night—

Well, of course, there’s the chemistry. The sheer blinding-white magnesium-flame heat of the two of them together, as bright-burning as it is undeniable. The way Dean’s eyes, green as his own, darken, pupils dilating, when Sam stands just a little too close. The pulse-pounding rush of need that hits him when Dean’s mouth curls up at one corner in just the right way, the way that indicates Sam is about to come harder than he ever has in his life. The soft, broken noises he knows Dean makes, that they both make, when they teeter together on the edge, a bare breath from tipping over, entwined.

“I know you don’t think this is our life. What we’re meant to be doing.” The words give the air around them strange twin taste—resigned and relieved, both. “But Sam—it’s a good life. It’s the life I’ve wanted, the one I never thought I’d be able to have. God knows my dad didn’t think I’d make it. Nobody did. But here I am.” His eyes meet Sam’s again. “Here we are.”

Those beautiful manicured hands on him feel right in a way Sam’s never experienced before. It’s not even sexual, not really—the sensation is there as much when Dean musses Sam’s hair as it is when Sam is shaking apart with Dean knuckle-deep inside him. There’s just something about the two of them together that’s...centering. Liminal. Like they form their own shelter, the eye of the hurricane when the chaos of the world is howling around them.

Sam asked Dean once if he felt the same. Dean had quirked a brow at him, given a little smile—”What, like some kind of past life thing? You going to start telling me we’re soulmates? Whatever you say, Samantha—” and yet there’s something in the way he touches Sam at times. Reverent. Almost disbelieving.

Like Sam, too, is something Dean had never thought he’d be able to have.

“I’ve got some connections at my old firm. I can make a few calls, get you an interview for a decent job.” He takes a drink of coffee, forcing a pause; shielding himself for a moment from Sam’s reaction. “I know it’s not your dream. But you could stay. With me.”

And yet, in a way, it is Sam’s dream. Because Sam’s been having dreams again, almost from the day of that fateful coffee date. Dreams where he and Dean do everything together that Sam had imagined, had read about. Where they hunt demons, vampires, demigods—creatures that make Old Man Sandover look like something out of Beetlejuice. Where they spend what feels like half their life in the boredom of long drives or library research sessions, punctuated by the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of a hunt, a fight. Where he and Dean save each others’ lives over and over, where they would die for each other, probably will sooner rather than later, but where they’re alive now, where they retreat victorious with whiskey or beer to their shitty motel room—

Somewhere more private. Lips swollen from kissing. A hand on the side of his face, long fingers threaded in his hair. Green eyes on his once more, open, honest. Vulnerable.

“I’d like you to stay. God, Sam—please. Stay.”

—and where they never, ever touch.

So Sam took the job. Let the loan application lapse, eventually deleted the various websites on ghosts and mythology and monsters from his bookmarks. He spends his days working in IT security, which is at least more interesting than tech support—it turns out he has a knack for breaking into systems, for getting into places he’s not supposed to be, for ferreting out information companies would prefer remain hidden. And his nights—well, if spending his nights in Dean Smith’s bed (and on his couch, and over his desk, and in his office chair, and) is the consolation prize for growing up and letting go of childish dreams, it turns out adult life has its perks as well.

He takes one last look at the scruffed-up Dean—still pretty, Sam thinks, fondly; there’s just no way to make a face like that look common—and lets the dream fade. The vibration of the engine, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt, even the dry-dusty smell of the Impala’s heater all grow distant; Sam moves his fingers, stretches, moves just enough to scoop his lover into the crook of his shoulder. Dean nuzzles him, murmurs a few nonsense syllables, and sighs, settling back into sleep.

Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. Hair pomade. Cologne. Sweat. Dean. It makes him happy, in the kind of way that leaves his chest a little tight, that brings tears to the corners of his eyes.

Most people don’t even get one life with Dean. He gets two. Gets to tread the thin line between them, the one where Dean is his perfectly ordinary lover, and the one where he’s—both more, and less.

As dreams go, he’ll take it, and be grateful.

#supernatural #sam/dean #smith/wesson #s04e17 it's a terrible life #wincest #my writing

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endexe · 3 years

Text

Whew, okay, uh, ya star child, Mori, here whipped out a fucking long ass essay just regarding to the things I realized while writing Zero and how much Zero means to me, especially on the personal level. Some heavy areas are to be touched as warned ahead in the sixth paragraph, but I promise I’m okay! I simply have a lot of thoughts and emotions whirling around in me that I need to place somewhere! But to summarize: Thank you all so, so, so much for loving Zero Orez, my one and only bestest foolish glitch child, and for giving me the safe and gentle space where I can be at my most joy and comfort having him here. <3

So the concept of Zero was created this month on April’s Fool, which is the second most ironic thing to happen with him ( the first is honestly the fact that within the same month, Zero have interacted with five muses who share the same faceclaim as him, like lmfao poor Zero, he’s just not having it --- shoutout to Mercy ( maskeraide ), River ( wxrldkiller ), Oli ( teletropic ), Vi ( heartbetween ), and Grace ( evermxre ) for having me so delighted and entertained by this concept, it makes my experiences writing with Zero so much more fun ). I created him for this episodic novel series Let There Be with Noble and Grim, the angel and demon respectively, who are private investigators. I had the concept of how there would be eldritch monsters trying to take over Earth by using the elements of the horror genre, which created mundane appearing but still supernatural linked cases that Noble and Grim had to solve when no other ordinary humans could, and the monsters were linked to their respective tarot card. Zero was considered to be the Fool.

I was excited to make Zero be a side character of the novel, the foolish and childish character who would constantly help and betray both sides of the series, one side being Noble and Grim, and another the Arcane. But I didn’t know what more to expect from him. I was reading the tag within the post I made in Noble’s and Grim’s blog that was the NPC introduction of Zero. It’s so funny that I said I didn’t know if I’d end up writing him on here because I thought Noble and Grim, my impossible lights, would end up taking all of the muse from him. BUT IN THE END... They were the ones who I set up the indefinite hiatus note few days ago while Zero’s still thriving, and I find that so bizarre because I thought Noble and Grim were the ONES who I’d always have the muse for. You know how you’d have that thing where you’d expect something to happen with your muse, but they would do the exact opposite as you least expected? Zero’s like that ALWAYS, but the fact he pulled the UNO reverse card on my impossible lights? Truly wild and now here I am, writing him for almost a month!

And... creating him, writing him is the BEST choice I had ever made in my entire life. Yes, Noble and Grim had helped me a lot, especially I do face a lot of struggles when it comes to the matters of hope and despair, what Noble and Grim embody of respectively but Zero eventually become so many things to me. The vent character, the comfort character, the character who I can channel my childish and curious energy into when I was rarely given the chance to let them out in the real world when I was younger, the character who is a learner but as slow and easily frustrated as me and a lover of life like me despite everything / anything. I realize also that I have so much fun and easier times writing him than I had with Noble and Grim, I won’t lie about this. Noble’s and Grim’s aesthetic and energy seem to attract more of an urge to write a bit more purple prosey with a hint of seriousness to it, and... it was so time and energy consuming to write them with these expectations I had on myself. And for some reason, I sometimes had trouble plotting with them, maybe because, again, I felt like they had to be these serious characters having to be put in serious situations. Few of the things I love about Zero is he have bare limits to his character as he can be anything and anyone I want him to be. He has about everything that I can use to develop and have fun with. I love how ultimately, Zero is ever unbound to labels and he is ever changing.

I’m just amazed realizing how many writings and developments I have done with Zero within a month than I had with those two, but that’s because with Zero? He is truly... all over the place. He is so messy, chaotic, flawed, but also, he is loud and open and FREE. Having to get into his energy makes me feel my most self where I can be too loud and loving, and not care too much about how I write and format my posts, unlike with Noble and Grim. He makes me so so SO happy and comfortable, and there is a lot of times I’d think about him and sometimes with my friends’ muses, and it’s a lot more than I had thought of Noble and Grim. The love I have for Zero is endless and beyond, always. He reminds me that original characters are so fucking important when they can be anything and anyone you want them to be, and as long as it’s nothing of harm to others and yourself, whoever and whatever they are, they are more than good enough when they provide you so much joy and comfort.

[ trigger warning: mentions of ( child ) abuse and traumas ] Zero have... about about everything I’ve ever loved in general from my interests to tropes ( adorkable, the fool, fourth wall breaking, etcetera ) to my love of aesthetics ( such as glitchcore / cybercore / kidcore / weirdcore ), and so many more. As well as he have learning disability, hypersexuality, tendency to be so distracted and forgettable like me. Along with he does these things that I do as stimming like he’d just rock or always love to touch blankets that have very soft materials. As well as he have experienced so many traumas that resulted him having so much trouble remembering and wanting to be childish as hating to be responsible, which is what I have. I don’t remember anything of my childhood or honestly, majority of my life but traumas. I don’t remember much of what I did yesterday. I don’t even remember if I had breakfast yesterday or what I ate if I did because I had been through so much mainly involving abuse from my own mother, still do unfortunately as I live with her, that makes my brain shut down, which also makes me have so much trouble being in deep thoughts when my brain is just. Numb. When I’m going to be more real here, despite how I appear online here, I do have trouble experiencing and expressing much emotions because, again, of the traumas I have dealt with for so long.

From all of these things I had gone through in life, I have dealt a lot with these concepts of who I am, what I am, like Zero does, and having him, I eventually realize how extremely important he is to me, so much more than any characters I ever created. He is my biggest coping mechanism and my gentlest reminder that it’s never too late to be... free. Just enjoy everything that I’m so fortunate to get from life. Draw clumsily, listen to music loudly, love too much and just let my heart be louder than the thunderstorms and crashing sea waves combined. Just be free and happy, despite everything, anything. I said before with Noble and Grim that I hadn’t been this happy before writing them, but I was so wrong. With Zero, I am so much more happier than I could ever be, and there are so many people on here who I am beyond lucky and grateful to be friends with who let me have him with no judgement like over how ridiculously overpowered he is or how much I self projected myself into him. And all of the connections Zero made on here so far are very touching and wonderful. I didn’t know what to really expect when I decided to give Zero his own blog, but having him for a month, this decision brought me so many beautiful things that I will always cherish.

I also wanna give a quick shoutout to River for. Fuck, everything. They’re truly the biggest reason why I decided to keep writing Zero and even make me love him more. They had made me talk about so many things with Zero I probably would’ve never thought, or wouldn’t have thought about so soon. I always extremely enjoy everything River and I would go over about together, and... literally, River, if you see this, know that you’re truly a wonder to have. I am so beyond thankful to have you as, honestly, already my close friend. Thank you so much for giving me that extra push to keep Zero and one of the most meaningful reasons why Zero still exist today, and for being just an amazing friend.

Just thank you all so much, to those we had known each other from the other blog and those we just became mutuals, for giving me and Zero a chance to be a bit more free and happier at least when our life won’t let us have that so often. Just thank you, thank you, thank you.

#* ❪⠀ 📺⠀❫ : 𝚎𝚙𝚜1.2:outofcharacter.𝚝𝚊𝚐 //#( I'm not expecting anyone to read it I just. again I had so many thoughts and feelings on this that I had no where to put but here )#( but again and again thank you everyone for this <3 )

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awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years

Text

Supernatural and Good Omens Crossover

“Hey, Cas!” Dean shouted, a strange excitement clouding his voice (and judgement). Sam and Dean locked eyes for a moment, and Sam could’ve sworn for that brief second, he saw the corner of Dean’s mouth beginning to form a small smile. “Cas! You comin’ or what?!”

Castiel entered the bunker’s hall to see Sam and Dean standing in front of the table, a bowl perched hastily, surrounded by some very common ingredients for spells. A virgins blood, the bone of a saint, goat liver... you get the gist.

As Cas edged forward, a blinding light shot up from the bowl, forming a beam-like shape right next to it. “Dean,” Cas said gruffly, and so very tiredly, “what are you doing?”

“Hey, c’mon man,” Dean replied, pouting, “you can clearly see our own personal witch Sammy has the spell book. Not me.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, causing both Cas and Sam to simultaneously roll their eyes.

“We got him,” Sam spoke finally, much to Dean’s content, and further, to Cas’ dismay, mostly because Castiel knew exactly what Dean was doing and he was very much, as the youth say, done now.

Cas recalled a recent incident about the fight he had with Dean. It was late and Dean had just come back from a very exhausting demon hunt, which had turned out to be quite disastrous, what with all the involvement of Hell Hounds.

Sam had gone to bed early that day, saying that he’d catch up on some research to help beat Chuck, but Cas and Dean both knew that whatever Sam was catching up on, it wasn’t research. Dean could hear dialogues sometimes, coming from Sam’s room. Most often, it was “Title of your sex tape”, which always intrigued Dean very much, and googling it turned out to be a very bad idea.

So, Cas and Dean were relaxing in the kitchen, sharing a bottle of whiskey, talking about everything and nothing. Dean suddenly started talking about how Crowley had turned out to be not such a bad guy for a demon. Then Dean thought about how Heaven, Hell, the Empty and the Purgatory were all in utter chaos, which led his train of thoughts towards resurrecting Crowley. Cas had made a mental note that day: late nights, whiskey, demon hunts and exhausting days always gave Dean the stupidest, most idiotic ideas of all time.

“Sammy can bring him back,” Dean had said, to which Cas was certain he had put up quite an argument but the fight turned slightly vicious and both Cas and Dean spent the following week shooting daggers at each other. Cas eventually forgot what he had said, but Dean stood by his statement.

This was the reason why Sam and Dean had been trying to bring back Crowley for several weeks now; trying different spells, different ingredients, different places and hell, one time, different clothes too (if you must know, Dean insisted that they wear a black suit. Yes, it had been a long day and Dean was down two glasses of Whiskey; why do you ask?). Everytime it didn’t work, Dean would spend days on end in his room, eating nothing but stale pizza, watching reruns of The X-Files. Cas was worried it would happen again.

“Cas? You there, buddy?” Dean pushed Cas back to the present with a small but sturdy tap on his shoulder. “We got him, Cas, we got him.”

Cas tilted his head in confusion and frowned, then looked at Sam, who nodded in agreement. They all focused on the bowl in front of them as the light grew warmer and brighter, until a figure began materialising from the beam.

Crowley opened his eyes to see himself in a strange place, a place he’d never seen before, nor considered running away to. Three men stood in front of him, tall and very well built, wearing an absurd amount of flannel. Crowley looked to his left to see a blinding light, and for a second, he thought he was in Heaven again, with that purple-eyed monster.

“Which poor sucker are you wearing as a meatsuit, Crowley?” The man with the scruffy, short, light hair said.

“Wait, wait, what? Meatsuit? Don’t be stupid--” Crowley sat up straight, looking around frantically, he said, “what the hell did you do with Aziraphale? Where is he?”

“Uh, Dean,” Cas began, clearly suspicious, but Dean cut him off.

“Just hold on to your horses for a second, Cas, let me handle this.”

Cas sighed.

“WHERE IS HE? And, and, did you just say Crowley? Nobody, in all of six thousand years, has ever called me “Cr-ow-ley”.” Crowley spoke angrily, then in exasperation.

“Where’s who?” Sam said, understanding something was definitely off.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley hissed, but it wasn’t an angry hiss, it was more of a habitual, slurring-of-words-hiss.

“Who’s he, your side chick?” Dean joked, but by now he was certain that whoever this person was, it was not Crowley. Sure, he had the accent. And if Crowley had been more focused on looking like an overdramatic sass queen, then maybe the black attire too. But this man, or whatever he was, he was not Crowley.

The blinding light grew brighter still, flashing an almost heavenly glow now, as another figure materialised from the beam.

The figure was more angelic than any form Castiel had seen. Michael could never. Cas could feel the figure’s aura deep inside him, resonating with his own grace, a soft humming of something divine.

“Oh, my, you seem to have caught us in quite a compromising position,” the heavenly figure said, his voice lilted, and apparently apologetic.

“You two are holding hands?” Dean spoke before he could stop himself. “If you think that’s compromising, boy do I have news for you.” Dean subsequently made a mental note to never talk again.

“Well I grew impatient and--” Before the figure in all shades of beige could complete his sentence, the man calling himself Crowley jumped to his feet.

“Angel! Where were you?” Crowley had gathered his senses and he was not going to let his angel go anywhere again. “Aziraphale, you gave me quite a fright, you bastard.”

“Wait, can someone explain to me what is happening?” Sam said, his hands raised, angel blade in one and holy water in the other.

“Is that...that’s holy water.” Crowley mellowed down, a frown making its way up his face.

“Now, that isn’t very kind of you, sir. There is absolutely no need to bring in weapons. That would be simply preposterous!” Aziraphale, replied calmly, miracling away the weapons from the tall man’s hands. This seemed to cause a chain reaction, making more weapons surface. Now all three men were clad with some sort of weaponry; very nifty ones too.

“There is,” Aziraphale began again, more sternly this time, “simply no reason to be feral, dear boys.”

“If you’re wondering, I am Crowley. Crow-ley. I am a demon; didn’t fall, though; sauntered vaguely below. And this is Aziraphale. Now boys, as much as I’d like to stay here and make your lives miserable by, I dunno, replacing all the real bacon with vegetarian bacon, I’d rather wrap this up quickly. We just dealt with an apocalypse and I have the alarm set for a decade of sleeping. And trust me, you don’t want to wait for Aziraphale to start with his magic tricks.”

Dean made a face at the thought of vegetarian bacon but quickly got over it, concentrating instead on the fact that this was Crowley too. Crow-ley, apparently.

“So, you’re not Fergus? You mother’s not Rowena? God Dammit Sammy, what’d you do?”

Sam looked as confused as everyone right now, but he could’ve sworn he had called Crowley from this universe. Something must’ve gone wrong.

“Just give us a moment to talk,” Sam said to the angel and the demon, and turned to Cas and Dean.

“And no monkey business,” Dean added, causing Sam to roll his eyes in disappointment again.

“So, my dear, before we go back, don’t you think it would be wonderful if one could, you know, miracle the one with light hair and the one with the trenchcoat together? I would, but it has become a little--” Aziraphale began suggestively, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What? Angel, they are just friends! Like us,” Crowley replied.

“My dear, we are married,” Aziraphale sighed, deadpanning.

“Wait, we are?! Since when?” Crowley screamed, obviously taken by surprise.

“Since you went to talk to Holmes, quite an interesting chap, about your secret admirer?”

Crowley shook his head, still confused.

“We got married the next day, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed again.

Crowley shook his head yet again, much to Aziraphale’s disbelief.

“You proposed!”

Sam coughed, interrupting Aziraphale and Crowley’s very important conversation about if they got married or not.

“So, here’s the thing: we think that while we were trying to contact Crowley of this universe, you, Crowley, from another universe were summoned here instead. This could be because of two things: Chuck is going insane and he no longer has control over the veils between universes, or two, because Jack (he’s a nephilim), is back, his powers might have overwhelmed the spell. We also think that because of your “compromising position”, both of you got summoned, instead of just Crowley. Either way, you are free to go.”

“Or you could stay for a couple of drinks, if that is okay by you,” Cas said, hoping they’d stay, just so he could get to know them better.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a knowing glance, coming to an agreement.

“It is noon presently; would you have cocoa by any chance?” Aziraphale chimed happily.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hey y’all! I am sure this has been done before but I am currently practicing escapism by writing silly fanfics so please bear with me through this phase.

I’m gonna tag some awesome people: @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @telefunkies @jensenackles-ismyreligion @mystybloo @thedepressedexpress

Tell me if you want me to tag you or if you don’t want me to tag you.

Thank you for reading uwu

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angelicjeonghan · 4 years

Text

4 Lives

After committing a crime so cruel that even an execution won't do, Wonwoo finds himself as a Goblin, searching for the one soul destined to take his sword out of him. But throughout his long, long lifetime, he finds himself meeting that soul, Mingyu, again and again until Mingyu reaches the lifetime in which he has to take Wonwoo's sword out.

4.4K words

Note: Goblins are immortal and have the ability to travel to different places by opening doors (open the door to your bedroom but end up in another place) ! Just some info so you’re not comfused if you haven’t watched the drama :-)

Hello! This is the second fanfic I’m writing on here! I posted this on Asianfanfics.com but I thought I’d put it on here too :-) Also! This fic is HEAVILY inspired by the popular K-drama, goblin! But I changed a lot of things and the plot is completely different, its just a few things that I chose to keep. Regardless, this fic was inspired by Goblin so if you like this fic, you should go watch it!

They say that humans have four lives, and that afterwards, the soul finally gets to go to a higher place. They say that those who’ve killed themselves become grim reapers, and that those who commit heinous acts will be cursed as immortal until they find their brides. They say all of that, but who really believes it?

Wonwoo didn’t mean to slaughter a whole village. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that whatever the king wants, the king gets. It didn’t hit him that he and the group of soldiers that he led single handedly took the lives of countless individuals until he found himself kneeling in front of the king with his hands bound to his back and an executioner fastening a blindfold to his eyes, preparing him for what’s to come. His whole body shuddered as beads of sweat dripped down his face. He wasn't sure if it was out of fear or out of heat. Maybe both. His execution was scheduled for the night, so there were rings of fire circling him, illuminating what was to come.

He realized in what was supposed to be his final moments that he didn’t do what the king wanted. He and his soldiers were only supposed to kidnap the king, but the selfish desire deep within him that he didn’t know existed caused him to kill a village.

He uttered one final apology, finding that there were no tears left in him as he prepared himself for his death.

The sword piercing his body felt like nothing to him. Even when he felt himself choke up blood and his body begin to burn in pain, he felt nothing but guilt. He was a monster and deserved this. He deserved to die the death of a public execution. He deserved to die due to the war that was to ensue due to his actions. He didn’t deserve to open his eyes ever again.

So when they did open, he was confused.

He scanned the barren fields around him, and was greeted with an old man who appeared beside him in an instant.

“How am I here? How...Why am I here?” He asked quietly, afraid that somebody from the town might somehow hear him in the vacant fields. He looked down at his stomach and saw the sword that stabbed him days prior. But it was different now. It was transparent and glowed, but if he chose not to focus on it, he wouldn’t see it. He tried to touch it, but his hand went right through it. He gave the man a questioning look.

The old man sighed deeply as he scanned the young man before him.

“Have you ever heard of a Goblin?”

The first time he met Mingyu was in a small town in England. He decided to leave Korea as a whole and move somewhere he’d never be found, and decided that England would be a good start.

Besides, he had an eternity to learn English.

Mingyu, who’s name at the time was Mark, worked at a local bakery in their rural town away from the Royal Palace. Royalty didn’t seem to matter to their quaint way of living. Wonwoo was the only foreigner in the town, and was often questioned about his whereabouts and how he traveled from the orient to here. He couldn’t lie and say that he teleported, because they’d just try to burn him for witchcraft, so he lied and said that he travelled from China to import tea.

They didn’t need to know that he was Korean, anyways, because to them it was all the same.

Mark was one of the only people who didn’t question him for not being European, and their friendship soon grew.

Wonwoo found it easy to suppress certain feelings throughout his life, from being in training, to being in battle, to then having to go into hiding.

It was easy to suppress these feelings when he couldn’t relax and bask in them, but sitting here with Mark made his heart beat just a little faster than he would have liked.

Mark grew up strictly catholic and made no advances towards Wonwoo, but the lingering stares and the jolts of electricity that ran through their bodies as they brushed their fingertips over tea was enough to suffice.

As Mark grew older, he began to question Wonwoo’s age. They’d been friends for ten years, and Mark was now balding and developing wrinkles, yet Wonwoo kept his pristine complexion and didn’t seem to age at all.

Wonwoo always brushed him off with a comment along the lines of “Asians don’t age”, but Mark wasn’t stupid.

Mark knew deep down that there was something supernatural about his friend, but he didn’t push on it. Even when he laid on his deathbed in their shared apartment, fifty years later and completely bald, wrinkled, weak and brittle, he didn’t question Wonwoo’s youth.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to his forehead as he said goodbye to his friend, and prayed that it wasn’t Marks last life.

That was the first time he felt the pain of a Goblin. He had initially felt grateful to whomever the old man had been before, but now all he felt was sorrows and regret. He thought that his execution was enough, but he knew that he deserved this.

The second time he met Mingyu was 100 years later in New York, United States.

Shortly after Mark's death, Wonwoo decided to leave Europe to forget about him, hence finding himself in the busy streets of New York. He initially didn’t like the big city, but he felt like the growing city was a good way to forget about his past “lover”.

He even got an education. He was immune to diseases and wanted to help people, so he became an ER doctor to save lives.

This was his way of making up for his past. For every person he killed, he would save ten people.

With his new task and busy work days, he soon was able to forget about Mark.

That was until a fateful day in the hospital, where Michael, a respiratory therapist from the other hospital along with his assistant, Siyeon, came in to treat an ill patient.

Wonwoo wasn’t assigned to the patient, but checked in during his break to see if he could be of any assistance. He didn’t look at Michael when first entering the room, not out of rudeness but out of simple concern for the patient. However after doing a quick rundown of whatever procedure needed to be done, he turned to Michael to ask if he needed help.

But Wonwoo didn’t hear a word Michael said, because all he could feel is a rush of electricity pulsing through his veins and tingling in his feet as he looked into Michael's eyes.

Siyeon politely nudged Wonwoo after a short period of time, asking if he was okay. She explained that he’d been staring at Michael for a few seconds without saying anything.

Wonwoo nodded his head, clarifying to the duo that he had a long shift and that he just needed some fresh air.

He spent his lunch break outside, barely touching his sandwich as his mind raced with the previous events.

He’s alive

But his thoughts were cut short quickly as Siyeon, the assistant, called out to him as she jogged over, her lunch bag clutched in her fists.

“I’m going to be blunt with you, Dr. Jeon.” She started, staring deep into his eyes. “Are you a Goblin?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened as his mouth hung open.

He blinked a few times at her, mumbling a few times about why she’d ask that, before she interrupted again.

“I’m a grim reaper.” She stated, sitting down on the bench next to him. “And I think you’re a goblin because I can’t get a read on you. I don’t know when you’ll die, so I’m assuming that you’re a Goblin, right?"

Wonwoo scanned his surroundings, deciding that they were secluded enough to talk in public.

“If I wasn’t a Goblin, then what would I be?” He questioned.

He didn’t understand why she was confused about what he was. If she couldn’t get a read on him, wouldn’t that make it perfectly clear?

“You could also be a lost soul. You know, somebody who is supposed to die, but doesn’t?” She explained, leaning back in her seat comfortably, eyeing Wonwoo as he processed his new information.

“Oh…” He trailed off. “Well, you were correct, I’m a goblin. I didn’t know lost souls existed.” He said.

“Really?” She asked, taken aback. “But a lost soul is gonna be the person to save you.” She grinned at his confusion, explaining further. “You’ll save a person one day, whether that be

through your job here at the hospital or through your powers as a goblin. But they’ll then develop supernatural abilities that will allow them to see your sword.” She pointed to the protruding sword from his torso, cocking her head to the side.

Wonwoo’s eyes went directly to his torso, where the transparent sword glowed.

“They’ll be able to pull out your sword and then you’ll be able to die. So, save as many lives as you can.” Siyeon patted Wonwoo’s shoulder as she got up, getting ready to go back to her shift.

“But you have plenty of time. I know you remember Michael from his past life. He will be the one to pull your sword out, but not in this lifetime.”

He never tried to see Michael again after that, but he had faith that he’d meet Michael’s soul again.

The third time he met Mingyu was 100 years later in Quebec City, Canada.

After “getting another job offer” in Canada, Wonwoo studied up on French and moved to Quebec. He decided to take a break from being a doctor and focused on music. He decided that saving lives isn’t just medical, and that music can help and heal people just as much as medicine. The pay was significantly lower than he was used to, but his savings kept him afloat as he performed gigs at local pubs and coffee shops.

Technology was growing, so he was able to record a CD with his songs. He was amazed at what humans were able to do, and was almost thankful to have been able to live to see the change in the world.

Wonwoo finished up his last song for the night at the coffee house he’d been performing at, and graciously accepted the applause. He spent the rest of the night in a local pub with a few friends, one being Siyeon, as they drank the night away.

Siyeon quit her job as a medical assistant due to her deaths rising up and getting in the way of her work.

Her grim reaper priorities were far more important than her other jobs.

She found an interest in French music and bought a vinyl with a familiar name to the title, and eventually she made her way up to Quebec to annoy Wonwoo.

But he wasn’t annoyed by her at all.

She kept him company, and it was nice to know that when their friend group dies, she’ll still be there to mourn with him.

The group drank until they could barely walk, stumbling up to Wonwoo’s fancy apartment.

His friends often asked how he managed to afford the place, but he brushed them off and claimed that it was inheritance.

However Wonwoo’s apartment was a few floors up, and living in Old Quebec, there were no elevators available, so the group had to force themselves up the stairs.

What was normally an easy, but tiring, walk soon became a marathon for Wonwoo.

He wasn’t usually this clumsy, but after missing a step, he found himself falling flat onto his face.

“Are you alright?” A worried voice asked.

Wonwoo brushed it off as one of his friends, holding his hand out for one to take.

But the jolt of electricity that was brought to his fingertips sobered Wonwoo up completely.

He stood up, wiping away at any dust that might’ve been left on him, before looking up at the man before him.

“Hi..” The man started “Are you alright? I noticed you fall, and…” He trailed off.

“I’m great.” Wonwoo said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he stared deeper into the eyes of the man before him.

“Oh!” The man exclaimed awkwardly, pointing to the door adjacent Wonwoo’s.” I’m Mattheu, your new neighbor.”

Wonwoo grinned, reaching out to shake Mattheus' hand again, feeling himself melt into his touch.

Siyeon eyed the two of them, raising an eyebrow as the duo made heart eyes for each other.

She ushered the rest of their friend group out of the apartment building, promising a place to sleep in her apartment a few stories down.

It was clear as day to Siyeon that Wonwoo’s relationship to Mattheu was going to be a lot different than the ones he’d had with Mattheu’s soul before. In the past, they could never be together in public, however in the 20th century city of Quebec, the duo can live the way they want.

Wonwoo had never experienced happiness like what he experienced with Mattheu. Their good morning kisses, their homemade dinners, and the love they had for each other made Wonwoo’s heart swarm with warmth and joy.

Until Mattheu began to get sick.

It was little things at first, but Wonwoo knew after a few weeks what was happening.

Mattheu had told Wonwoo about his past lovers, and how there were many nights that went unprotected, but he truly thought that he wouldn’t be one of them.

One to get AIDs, that is.

Wonwoo knew he was safe from it, but that just made him feel worse. His lover would have to die, and he couldn’t even die with him.

Mattheu hung in there for a little while, trying his best to keep his routine but becoming weaker and weaker as time went on, until one day, Mattheu didn’t hum in contentment as Wonwoo smothered him in his good morning kisses, didn’t sigh deeply as he felt the duvet being pulled from him, and didn’t open his eyes to see the love and adoration that Wonwoo held in his own.

Siyeon tried to help him, holding him as he cried and tucking him into bed every night, but he couldn’t stay anymore. He couldn’t stay in this apartment, in this city, in this country anymore. It was time for a change.

The fourth time he met Mingyu was 80 years later in Seoul, South Korea.

He needed to go home after Mattheu passed.

He put off going to the country that hated him in fear that he’d be ridiculed and exempt from ever stepping foot on Korean soil, except...it didn’t hate him.

Because what he did centuries ago didn’t even make it to the textbooks, and as it turns out, his actions never caused a war. The other villages grew defensive once they heard about the attacked village, however after hearing about Wonwoo’s death, they decided to accept it and move on.

So he felt comfortable again in South Korea.

He went back to being a doctor after moving back, and prayed to whomever may be listening that French music never makes its way over to South Korea, because he grew a bit of a following and didn’t want to be known as the “Hot, singing doctor who knows French”.

Siyeon also followed Wonwoo, deciding that she, too, would like to go home.

Siyeon never really knew what she did to make her commit suicide, so she wanted to see if being in Korea would trigger something in her.

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at his clipboard of things to do, scribbling down a few notes here and there as he enjoyed the calm morning environment.

But that was quickly replaced by chaos as a new nurses rushed in a patient who’d seemingly been hit by a car.

He quickly rushed over to her bed and examined her current state.

Her arm was nearly dislocated, her chest seemed to have taken a big blow with the blood ushering through a wound, and her face was completely scratched at.

He told the nurses to grab some anesthetics as he began to prep her for emergency surgery, however she began to plead weakly as he vocalized his plans.

“I'm pregnant” she repeated to him through labored breaths. “Be careful and save my baby”

Wonwoo’s mind raced as he thought of what to do.

He knew that if he played it safe, she’d be able to make it, but a fetus so small that it was barely visible to the outside world wouldn’t.

And he couldn’t let his patient down.

He scanned the room again to ensure that nobody had their eyes on him before he told his patient to close her eyes.

He put his hand over her stomach and used his powers to heal her. Not completely, but just enough to ensure that whatever may be growing inside of her does so with no problems.

He rarely used his powers to heal others, opting to stick to his medial knowledge. But he swore to himself that if he could save somebody, he'd do it no matter what.

The nurses rushed in with needles and other equipment seconds after he finished, and he thanked whomever may be up there that they didn’t see what he had done.

He let another doctor take control of the patient's surgery, and visited her only after she was fully healed and was able to sit upright.

He hoped that she would have been too out of it to have noticed what he’d done to her stomach, but once the nurses that took care of her left for their other patients, she tapped on her stomach and smiled.

“My eyes were closed, but the glowing that came from your hand was too bright to not notice.” She smiled softly. “I won’t tell anyone, but I just wanted to say...thank you.”

Wonwoo smiled back at her, wishing her the best of luck on her pregnancy and journey throughout motherhood.

He turned to leave the room before glancing back at her, a question popping into his head.

“Do you have names picked out?”

His patient pondered for a moment, rubbing her stomach as she thought.

“If it's a girl, I’d name her Eunwoo.”

Wonwoo grinned. He liked the name a lot and complimented her on it.

The patient took another moment to think, cocking her head to the side as she decided.

“And if it’s a boy, I think I’ll name him Mingyu.”

The fifth and time he met Mingyu was 20 years later in Seoul, South Korea.

Wonwoo made his way to the library, enjoying his first few days of his break from working.

He again made the decision to take a break from being a doctor, deciding that he wanted to learn how to write instead.

He thought about his life and how big of a hit it would be to write a book on it.

So that’s what he decided to do.

He sat down in his usual spot as he began his writing process: make a bullet point list of the progression of events, then write for an hour, and then scroll on his phone.

The new iPhone came out, and he was over the moon with what he could do with it.

Siyeon called him out for still having a flip phone in 2020, so he finally upgraded to an iPhone.

He loved all of the social media apps, but he found himself drawn to twitter the most.

He could tweet out anything he wanted and it would be there forever. Amazing.

He leaned back in his chair as he scrolled, giggling to himself as he read the tweets from a few of his favorite artists. He felt like a little kid, but it made him happy.

It almost made him miss the way the person across from him stared at him.

Or rather, his torso.

Wonwoo glanced up from his phone and raised an eyebrow to the person across from him.

And then he felt a familiar tingle again.

But this time, the tingle came from his torso as he saw the sword appear before him again, glowing brighter than ever before.

The man across from him got up and made his way over, giving Wontoo a toothy grin as he pointed to the sword.

“So...I see you have a sword in you.”

Wonwoo’s mouth went dry and his hands began to clam.

Is this it? He thought to himself. Am I gonna finally die today?

“Uh…” The man continued “I’m Mingyu, your "Bride", by the way. I’m assuming you’re the Goblin I was destined to save?”

Wonwoo nodded his head weakly, his arms trembling as he reached out to shake Mingyu's hand.

“We don’t have to do this now, you know.” Mingyu reassured, patting Wonwoo’s back in an attempt to calm him down.

But they did. Once you meet your bride, you need to perform the execution within the next few hours. Otherwise, the Goblins bride could be in danger.

Wonwoo melted in Mingyu's touch as a deep sigh left his lips.

He looked up at Mingyu after some time to introduce himself as well as to tell him his story.

He told Mingyu about what he did to become a goblin, about all of the places he’d lived, and about the times that he met Mingyu’s soul. He told Mingyu about his plans to write a book about his experiences, about the long, long life he lived. He told Mingyu that he almost wishes that he could live forever at this point. Almost. But he's ready to leave this world, now.

Mingyu smiled at him, rubbing hands reassuringly.

“Humans have four lives, right?” Mingyu asked, earning a nod from Wonwoo. “So after this life, I’ll go to...wherever souls go, right?” Wonwoo nodded again.

“So we will be together then, Wonwoo. Mark, Michael, Mattheu, and I. We will be there with you when I’m done living this life.”

The thought of being reunited with Mingyu’s soul for eternity brought tears to Wonwoo’s eyes as he began to sob quietly.

Mingyu stayed with him until Wonwoo calmed down, picking up his phone to call Siyeon, who quickly rushed over to meet the duo.

They said their tearful goodbyes, and Siyeon promised that she only had a few lives left to take before her duty as a Grim Reaper was over. Afterwards, she’d join him up there and keep him company as he waited for Mingyu’s soul to finish living it’s last life.

Wonwoo and Mingyu held hands as they made their way to a barren field on the outskirts of Seoul.

Wonwoo thought it would be best to do it here, as there would be nobody around to watch him disintegrate into thin air.

Memories of waking up in a similar field, complete confusion and the start of his new life washed over Wonwoo has he took in his final moments.

Mingyu, despite only meeting Wonwoo for the first time today, felt a deep sense of sorrow as Wonwoo stopped in his tracks, turning to face Mingyu with a soft smile.

Wonwoo felt content with his surroundings, he felt content with Mingyu beside him, and he felt relieved to finally be done with living.

Wonwoo took Mingyu’s reluctant hands and placed it onto the sword, squeezing it slightly as a signal that he was ready.

“Wonwoo…” Mingyu started, tears forming in his eyes.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asked, looking up at him.

“I’ll see you again before you know it, alright?”

Wonwoo nodded, smiling softly as he felt the sword finally leave his body.

Then he felt himself float.

Then he felt nothing.

Jeon Wonwoo was gone from this Earth, but he was watching from above.

The last time he met Mingyu was in his heaven.

Wonwoo felt someone pepper his face with kisses as he stirred awake.

He opened his eyes slightly to adjust to the light that cascaded through the blinds by the window.

He knew that window.

He rubbed his eyes before opening them again, reevaluating the room.

This was his apartment in Quebec.

The kisses plastered to his face stopped momentarily as a pair of hands grasped at his cheeks, turning his face to the side.

There he saw Mingyu, grinning at him as he pulled Wonwoo into a kiss.

Wonwoo melted in his touch, feeling slightly delirious as he held onto Mingyu’s hand.

“M-Mingyu...You’re here?”

Mingyu nodded, pushing a few strands of hair from Wonwoo’s forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

“I’m here. Do you know why we are here?” Mingyu asked.

Wonwoo shook his head, scanning the room again.

“It’s our heaven, Woo.” Mingyu said.

“I..I thought I was in heaven…” Wonwoo trailed off.

Prior to here, he’d been with Siyeon as they wandered around with their friends.

He was happy there.

But being here with Mingyu, that was indescribable.

“You were in your heaven, but now you’re in our heaven. This is where we live now. Together.”

Together

Hey guys! If you liked that, I also have a few fics on Asianfanfics.com! I might post a few on here depending on how well this does lol. Thank you for reading!

#Seventeen #seventeenfic #Meanie #wonwoo #mingyu #carat #kpop #Svt #jeon wonwoo #kim mingyu

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trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

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queendom || hope mikaelson - chapter seven

Summary: In which a tribrid falls in love with a human girl

Word Count: 1,982

"DO YOU WANT TO explain what you're doing outside of school?" Rebekah questioned as the three girls entered a small motel room. She set her things down on the nearest bed and approached Hope, arms crossed over her chest.

Hope's eyes wandered away, almost refusing to look at her aunt's disappointed glare. "I was just going on a date."

"Hope, you can't just throw a temper tantrum and commit grand theft auto every time you want to meet up with your newfound lover. This isn't a romance novel." Rebekah glances at the young girl standing by the door, whom Rebekah had compelled to remain calm.

It was odd. They were all the same age, appearance-wise. Rebekah was sixteen, nearly seventeen, when was turned into a vampire by her mother. That had been a thousand years ago, when the Vikings had taken over American land and proclaimed it the New World. Her appearance had stayed true to the day she was turned. Her shiny blonde hair had never faded to gray, her pale freckled skin never wrinkling, her crystal blue eyes never wisening.

So many years alive, yet nothing to show for it but a few supernatural abilities and the ache that came with the death of her brothers. Ones whom she'd once promised "always and forever" to, still wrapped in the idea that they were immortal.

The silver-haired girl standing before her was human. Her porcelain cheeks were lightly flushed, likely due to a mixture of the chilly wind and Rebekah's red convertible. Her heart was beating quickly as she avoided eye contact with Rebekah. Understandable, considering it seemed as though the two Mikaelsons had just kidnapped the poor girl.

"Well, now, don't be afraid, little bird." Rebekah took a step forward, brushing a stray hair from the girl's face and tucking it behind her ear. "I'll simply have a stern talking to with my niece, and we'll send you on your merry way."

"You're not compelling her, are you?" Hope asked nervously, following Rebekah as she went to look through the bathroom of the motel room, checking to make sure that everything was in order. "Aunt Rebekah, you can't."

It stung a bit knowing that Rebekah would be the one giving Hope a stern talking to regarding her first real relationship. Niklaus had always been more experienced with those -- he'd managed to kill several of the suitors that had chased after Rebekah throughout the years. She'd hated him for it, it's true, but Klaus had had the right intentions -- regardless of how poorly he'd carried them out.

Rebekah didn't wish to raise Hope as her own daughter. To discipline her and compel away the memories of a girl she'd clearly come to fancy; but what choice did she have? Kol and Davina were halfway across the world, and although Kol meant well, he wouldn't be able to provide the same patience and discipline that Hayley and Niklaus would have given her. Rather, his first instinct would have been to congratulate Hope for the mess she'd made, followed by a visit to the nearest theme park.

Freya, although she'd chosen to remain in New Orleans -- the closest thing Hope had ever gotten to a home -- had her own family to stand with. A son, named in honor of Niklaus, of whom shared the blood of two powerful witches and a werewolf.

The Mikaelson bloodline would remain supernatural for the upcoming generation, and for generations after that. The magic of the Original witch, the blood that carrys the werewolf gene -- with great power came great danger. Hope would know several heartbreaks before she found the one she would be with forever. This would have to be one of those several.

"You can't be with a human girl," Rebekah argued, taking a step towards the stubborn tribrid. "Don't you understand how foolish that is?'

Hope shifted her weight. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it bloody matters, Hope," Rebekah spat. She could see all of the boys Nik had taken from her. Drained of blood or thrown from great heights -- he always did fancy spontaneity -- in order to protect her. "You're a Mikaelson. An Original. You can't afford to love someone so vulnerable."

"I can't afford to be vulnerable," Hope hissed. "Everyone I love dies so long as I accept that I'm an Original. Maybe I don't want to be an Original."

"Hope!" The blonde vampire rested her arms on Hope's shoulders. "Listen to me, all right. I know as well as you how hard it is to be a supernatural creature. I understand how badly you want to be human, but you can't put your heart on the line purely to live out a fantasy in which you are human. You're not."

The young witch's eyes lit with flames. She took a step forward and for a moment, Rebekah could have sworn she'd seen Nik's face. "You're not my mother. You can't tell me how to live my life."

"Then who will?" She raised her eyebrows. She turned, heading towards the young girl standing by the door. They locked eyes as Rebekah began to compel her to forget. Forget everything that she'd seen or heard, and that Hope had never shown up to their date, and her best bet was to forget that Hope Marshall ever existed.

It'd be best to keep as much of her memory as possible. She'd likely told her friends about Hope, and it would create lapses in her memory if she had a date with a girl she didn't remember, at a place she'd seemingly forgotten.

She followed the compulsion by suggesting that Angel call a friend to pick her up.

"We can't even drop her back off at the fair?" Hope snapped, her teeth gritted together in anger. "Or even at her house? She could get hurt."

"You weren't worrying about her safety when you brought her into our world," Rebekah growled. It hurt a bit. She wanted to protect both of the girls, not just Hope. For a moment she could look at the young girl, and see a bit of herself. Vulnerable, young, naive. Completely unaware of the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Sure that she would live the rest of her life human.

The girl had a right to be human. No one could take that away from her.

"What's your name, love?" Rebekah asked after a moment.

"Angel," The girl responded calmly. It was almost robotic. "Angel Nguyen."

Rebekah nodded after a moment. "Vietnamese ancestry, Americanized first name. Interesting. Were your parents first generation immigrants?"

"I... " The girl blinked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "I'm not sure. They always speak fondly of Vietnam, but they've never shown me any pictures of them there. Just pictures of the villages in black and white."

Hope took a step forward. "Angel, you said you've never been more than an hour outside of Statera. That you've never even stayed out of Statera for longer than an hour. Have your parents?"

Angel's heart rate increased. "I don't know."

"Are you lying?" Rebekah questioned, crossing her arms. "Tell us the truth, Angel."

"I am," She responded, beginning to panic as she realized the situation around her. It was as though the compulsion had worn off completely. "Please don't hurt me."

"Wait," Hope paused. "Angel, you said you're from Vietnam, right?" Angel nodded in response, and Hope continued. "And you've never been outside of Statera for longer than an hour." The young human continued to agree, until Hope came to her conclusion. "What happens if you stay outside for too long?"

As if on cue, there was a bang on the door. Rebekah glanced at the time, only to realize it had been an hour since she'd picked Angel and Hope up from the fair. Quickly, she grabbed hold of Angel's wrist and pulled the girl behind her. Her heart began to race as the door began to shake, the hinges weakening with each hit.

'A wolf. A hybrid. Mikael.' The Originals thoughts drowned her, her mind separating from her body for a few moments. It was as though she'd floated away for a few moments.

Hope pushed past her aunt and muttered a spell under her breath. The dresser flew towards the door, blocking it from opening. "It'll hold it, but not for long. We have to find a way to get out of here."

"Can you do that thing from Wizards of Waverly Place where you flash us to a different location?" Angel asked, oddly calm. "That would work, right?"

"Not how magic works," Hope responded, only slightly amused. She pulled on Rebekah's jacket as she and Angel ran into the bathroom, likely searching for a window. Rebekah took a few moments to herself before she saw part of the door burst amount, only the arm of a seemingly human man trying to push its way into the room.

Rebekah turned, breaking off a piece of the dresser and throwing it in the direction of the monster's arm. She watched as it impaled its wrist, but continued to push it's way in, as if nothing had happened.

"There's no window!" Hope yelled as she returned from the back of the motel room. "What do we do?"

The three girls watched, paralyzed with horror, as the hinges of the door gave in and the monster pushed its way into the motel room. It looked nothing like a human, but rather, a deformed creature. Its limbs were decomposed, peeling as if it were that of a zombie. The body, impaled with swords, arrows and ancient weaponry -- created before even the dawn of the Original vampires -- moved as though it felt none of it.

Immune to physical pain, to blockades, to even something as obvious as death itself. A monster with no ability to die, and no way to be stopped.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Hope whispered under her breath. "I've read about these. Foetoribus Careat. Latin for 'unsullied.'"

Rebekah raised her eyebrows at her niece. "And what the bloody hell are we supposed to do with that?"

"I don't know," She admitted, taking steps back as it fought its way through the blockade of dressers. "They're supposed to be extinct. They haven't been seen in centuries. They were made to protect people living inside the cities of Indo... China."

Angel. It wanted Angel. The teenage girl who'd done absolutely nothing, who was seemingly protected from the supernatural world, was being hunted by a mindless, immortal corpse. And by an unsullied monster.

"So it wants the girl," Rebekah stated. "It was meant to protect her. Maybe it won't harm her."

"He doesn't look very harmless!" Hope yelled, pushing Angel further behind her. "Look, maybe we could take her to the Salvatore School. Maybe we could protect her."

"That's not an option, Hope, that means endangering the lives of more innocent supernatural teenagers -- all of whom are not protected by this stupefied corpse." Rebekah grabbed a lamp and through it at the monster, watching as the glass shattered and pierced through its arm. Still, no blood, no sign of weakness. "Our best bet is to let it take her. At the end of the day, it's protecting her, right?"

"She didn't obey their commands. They might kill her to punish her!"

"Well, sometimes teenagers have to learn some bloody discipli--" The monster reached for the blonde vampire's throat, wrapping its fingers around her neck and squeezing. Rebekah felt the air leaving her lungs, followed by a burning sensation as she began to lose air. Vampirism didn't protect you from the death that came with a mortal body. She clawed at its hand, feeling its flesh tear off as she did so, but it was no use.

Seconds passed, and it felt like centuries as her senses were consumed by darkness.

71 notes · View notes