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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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Put it on me - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

SUMMARY: A shared stash of moonshine leads to you pouring your heart out to Zoro. Despite his rather cold exterior, he takes your words seriously and asks you to put some of your burden on him if it ever gets too heavy.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.8k

Brought to you by my obsession with this painfully relatable song:

“Save some for me.”

Zoro’s voice wakes you up from the trance. You’ve been mindlessly drinking and reminiscing about the fight for what had to be at least two hours now. Enough time to slur your words and muddy your thoughts but the latter, as welcome as it would be, doesn’t seem to come. Flashes of scenes and echoes of voices still haunt you.

The swordsman nudges the axe you used to crack open the barrel. Quite crude but it works as it should - both a plug and a tap, depending on the blade's position. A spicy, dry stench fills the air as Zoro pours himself some of the dark-coloured moonshine.

He takes a large swing of the mysterious alcohol and winces. Very unlike him. A troubled cough escapes his chest.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The nightmare of hangovers yet to pass, I like to call it.” Used to the questionable taste of the beverage or simply numb due to your current state of light intoxication, you’re unbothered as you take another sip. The liquor burns your throat right down to your stomach. You can almost feel it wreaking havoc on your organism. Good. “We’re both alive and not blind, so definitely not methanol. Maybe it tastes like mouldy socks but it gets the job done.”

Zoro sits down on the ground next to you. His body is suspiciously close to yours, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, but you’ve grown used to it. It’s an open secret between the two of you - he’s allowing both himself and you this kind of intimacy as long as it remains unaddressed. If it did, he’d have to admit he’s not as aloof towards you as he likes to make himself look and that is not something Roronoa Zoro has the courage to confess.

“Why are you drinking alone?”

“I’m not. You’re here,” you say as you gently poke his arm.

He chuckles and shakes his head. Zoro takes another sip and winces again but not as much as before. The ‘mouldy socks’ flavour is growing on him. Or maybe it’s the alcohol content?

“You can’t fool me,” he says in a low, serious tone. “Something’s on your mind.”

Zoro looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze is bright, perceptive. Even if you try, you can’t lie and convince him that everything’s in order. It seems that Zoro already knows your mood is foul, just can’t quite put his finger on the why. For a man who claims to be unbothered and uncaring, he sure does spend a lot of time and energy and studying your little habits and quirks. One might even say he appears to have a particular affinity for you.

“I ate shit back in the village,” you mumble without looking at him. You almost puke bolting down the rest of the dark moonshine. “Complete failure. Embarrassing doesn’t cover even half of it.”

Stumbling over the air and your own feet, you get up and pour yourself another cup of alcohol. You can see Zoro’s troubled gaze following your movements but he doesn’t say anything or try to stop you, although he’s sure you’ve had enough of strong drinks for the night.

“You did fine,” he says awkwardly. Despite meaning his words, niceties still have a problem making it through his throat. “Aside from leaving your left flank wide open but you’d have to die and be reborn to stop doing that.”

Sitting back down next to Zoro, you lose your balance and fall on your backside. Some of the moonshine spills and soaks your shirt. You don’t care about the stain for now but you surely will in the morning when the putrid smell fills your bedroom and refuses to be washed out.

“It was everything but fine,” you scold him.

Surprised, Zoro looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Never before has he seen you so hung up about mistakes. Normally, you’d shrug and laugh and just say something along the lines of “shit happens, we’ll be better next time”. Still, no matter how much he racked his brain, he simply couldn’t think of anything in particular that could get you like that. Nothing about the day and its battles stands out to him.

“Nami getting hurt was my fault,” you admit. “Luffy and Usopp too. Shit, everything was my fault.” Out of frustration, you rub your face with your free hand.

“Nonsense,” he easily dismisses your self-blame. “You couldn’t have known about the whole human-turned-arsenal crap.” Zoro takes another swing of the mysterious moonshine. This time, he doesn’t wince or cough. Mouldy socks are beginning to taste like champagne. “I don’t think anyone could,” he adds quietly.

You hit the floor with a clenched fist.

“But I did, Zoro,” you drone your words. The image of the pirate captain is clear as day before your eyes. “That’s the thing. The moment I saw that man I knew something was wrong. He moved in a strange way and the way his clothes fit him… It was right there, in front of me. And I was blind like a drunk bat stuck in a pile of cow dung.”

“Hunch isn’t exactly the best strategy. You might as well have been wrong about him and attacked an innocent man.”

“Well, he wasn’t innocent, was he, Zoro?” The anger is rising within you. Why wouldn’t he just accept your fault? Why is he so frustratingly stubborn at putting the blame elsewhere? “I could have prevented all of this or at least given us an opportunity to prepare before Usopp got half of his bones broken with a cannonball. And all of this, Nami nearly dead, because when my moment came, I failed. I hesitated. I questioned my judgment. Like I always do.”

The wooden floor is hit yet again when you look for a way to let out your anger.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but,” Zoro makes a pause and clears his throat,” you’re being too hard on yourself.”

A silence falls between you.

The air in the cramped storage room is stuffy, soaking with a plethora of strong smells: damp wood, smoked fish, the dark liquor you’re drinking with the swordsman, aged cheeses that Sanji seems to be a fan of, roasted coffee beans… But all of those aromas are strangely comforting to you, the smells that remind you of a gathering of adventurous underdogs that have grown to be a family.

A gathering that you’ve almost killed today with your incompetence.

“Truthfully, I wish I was like you,” you finally break the silence. Zoro gives you a questioning look. “You never fail, always prepared and ready to fight. Even when you do make mistakes, which is rare might I add, you can prevent anyone else from getting hurt because of you. I wish I had the power to always do the right things and do them well. When will a day come when I finally know how to act? What to do? I make the same stupid mistakes over and over again and nothing seems to change no matter how hard I try. Maybe I’m just broken and you lot are doomed for hanging around me.” For a moment, you look into your cup. Your reflection in the dark beverage is rippling, making your face hardly recognizable. Just like when you compare who you are to who you should be. “At least in my mind, in my fantasies, I'm the hero that saves me,” you whisper to yourself and down the rest of your drink. It’s easier to be delusional when you can’t string a coherent sentence.

The realization hits Zoro like a derailed train. Of course he’s never seen you get hung up over your mistakes - you’ve been holding it inside, beating yourself up away from everyone’s eyesight. Your otherwise happy-go-lucky exterior is a mere facade, the face of someone you’d like to be. And the more you realize it’s not your true face, the more upset you get. How long have gone holding yourself to an impossible ideal? Hating yourself for being anything but perfect and imposing?

How heavy is the real burden on your shoulders?

"I'll do it for you,” he offers quietly.

Your confused gaze meets the confident glint in his eyes. He looks sure of himself - more certain than he normally is. A smile threatens to pull up one corner of his lips.

"Do what?" you ask.

"I'll be the hero that saves you."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips and echoes throughout the small storage closet. The sound bounces off the wooden walls and comes back to you with a certain depth and delay, making you feel as though it’s the world laughing at you and the poor sod that offers to help you - you don’t hold hands with someone who easily catches on fire, burning everything around them. That’s just stupid.

“Thanks but that still makes me the world’s biggest loser who can’t put the money where their mouth is and is stuck in a perpetual cycle of doom.”

You look away, staring ahead, but Zoro’s eyes linger on you. Sure, he can fight pirates and animals and fishmen and all the strange horrors lurking in the world but how in hell is he going to fight something immaterial? How powerless he feels with three swords at his side and yet no way to fight the foul-tongued beast in the back of your head.

"Just put it on me," he presses on. "If you need help, put it on me. If you're going through Hell, put it on me.” Then, to your surprise, he firmly grabs your hand, squeezing it in a meaningful manner. “Seriously."

You try to wiggle your palm out of his hold but it proves useless - his grip is iron, although not painful. No matter how much you’re enjoying this uncharacteristic intimacy, you know better than to get used to it. Zoro deserves better than to be the victim of your ricochet.

“You’ve got enough on your head already,” you say in a stern voice. “My own bullshit is the last thing you need.”

For the first time in weeks, Roronoa Zoro smiles. It’s not a smile of amusement, of being entertained. No, it’s a smile of seeing something, or someone, he holds dear. In other words, it’s not his mind that rejoices but his very heart and soul.

“I want to worry about you,” he confesses.

Tears are prickling at your eyes and you’re doing everything you can to keep them from falling. Alas, you’re quite far from sober and self-control is not an ability within your grasp. Your face feels hot as teardrops slowly roll down your cheeks.

A bitter scoff leaves your lips. “It will be an unending horror.”

“I’m not afraid,” he reassures you casually. “And we’re in the middle of the sea. I’ve got time.”

Hesitantly, you rest your head against his chest. Zoro welcomes the gesture, letting go of your hand and putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself.

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lot-of-nothing · 2 months

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Entwined (Ch. 4)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Reconciliation and growth? Melissa realizes she still has a lot she needs to work through.

Warnings: Sexual themes and internalized homophobia

Author's Note: A little worldbuilding around R's relationship with Melissa. Thank you soooo much to @alexusonfire for betaing this <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

The bartender placed a drink on the bar before you, earning them a furrowed brow and questioning glance. They gave a toothy grin in response and pointed down the bar to your left, “It's from the redhead.”

Your stomach sank at the prospect, and the bartender noticed how your features drooped. With a sympathetic glance, they let you be with your thoughts.

Melissa. It had to be her.

You stared down at the wood grain of the bar, debating if you even wanted to open the wounds that were barely healed as it was. Even a glance felt like too much for you now. You weren’t ready for this after everything ended so terribly. But it didn’t seem like Melissa was giving you much of a choice as her plump hand crept from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, “Long time no see.”

You knew her voice well, so when her tone lacked her typical confidence, your eyes flicked up to her face with concern. Her flaming hair was tucked behind her right ear and she was gazing at you softly as her thumb began rubbing soft circles against your clothed shoulder. “Can I sit?”

Your eyes scanned her body as you considered her question, noting the casual outfit of jeans, a pink long sleeve shirt, and her usual jumble of necklaces. Any emotions that her presence stirred in you were pushed down with your apathetic tone and shrug as you swivel your head to face forward once more, “I don’t own the place. Sit where you want.”

Melissa took a nervous seat next to you. She wasn’t about to back down just because you seemed angry with her. She had thought long and hard about everything that had happened between you and was ready to reconcile. Mel chewed at the inside of her lip as she let some time pass between the two of you. Her eyes were watching you intently in the mirror hung behind the shelves of liquor across the bar, and her nails nervously tapped on her glass of brown liquor as she thought about what she should say.

The redhead coughed and then turned her head slightly towards you as she spoke, “Ahem, how’s Ms. Sunshine?”

“We broke up.” Your response was automatic, and while you tried to sound just as cold as you did when you let her sit, you couldn’t hide your disappointment when you were reminded of that night once more.

“How’s-” Melissa started, but you cut her off.

“We don’t have to do small talk.”

Mel allowed silence to fall between you both again. From the corner of your eye, you watched her fidget with her phone as she pretended to be comfortable with the silence between you both. You knew she was searching for a different topic of conversation to you talking - the effort being a refreshing change to your interactions in the past.

Another few minutes passed before her voice rang out again - twinged with hope that reminiscing could get you to talk to her, “Remember senior prom? When Frankie Amici ditched me for Kristin Marie?”

At first you considered only nodding, but then you caught a glimpse of Melissa’s half smile in the mirror as she stared into her lap and thought about that night. You decided to play along, but you refused to smile or offer any indication you enjoyed the conversation, “We sat out on Reading Railroad Bridge with a pack of menthols from your uncle.”

“A train came and we had to jump into the river.” Mel’s nose scrunched up at the thought of being in the Schuylkill River. She remembered scrubbing her skin raw afterwards to get the remnants of the polluted river off of her.

The memory of you both jumping off that bridge, hand-in-hand and screaming as you plummeted into the freezing water, brought a smile to your face. You made so many bad decisions together in your teens that it was surprising neither of you ever hurt yourselves. You glanced at Melissa, smirking a bit as you reminded her of the aftermath, “We warmed up in my car.”

Melissa straddled you in the passenger seat of the Pontiac Oldsmobile you borrowed from your cousin. You slowly unzipped her baby pink prom dress while she kissed your neck. She was grinning when she pulled away and peeled the dress from her body - Mel always loved the way your eyes lit up when she revealed herself to you. Her hand caught you by the back of the neck and guided you to her breasts, “Why don’t you help me warm up?”

With your hands pressing into her back, you dove towards her breasts - rolling her nipples between your teeth and leaving darkened marks across her chest. Your hands sunk under the soaked fabric of her dress, revealing more of Melissa’s chilled skin to you. She pulled away again, leaning back against the dashboard to watch you with her intense green eyes. You wished you could say you met her gaze but you were too busy staring at her torso.

Melissa’s mouth went dry at how you eyed her. In your reminiscing, you had begun watching the redhead just as you did that night - hungry eyes flicking between her cleavage and her lips. She hummed in agreement as her heart skipped a beat, “Mhmm..”

Finally you stopped ogling her and met her gaze, “You looked so pretty in that pink dress.”

And with that statement, you made Melissa Schemmenti blush. The heat on her cheeks only grew as you propped your head in your hand and stared intently at her, raising your brows as you waited expectantly for her to carry on the conversation. While she had broken you down a bit into being willing to speak to her, it was up to Mel to carry the brunt of your discussion, and carry it she did.

You went back and forth for half an hour, sharing silly memories from your time spent together. The conversation took a change in tone when Melissa stared at her hands and asked, “You remember when Nona died? The night after?”

“That night you came over at 2am. I let you in and you crawled into my bed.” You knew how painful it was for her to bring it up - it always had been since she passed. With a tentative pace, you reached out and covered her hand with your own, giving her a light squeeze before lifting your hand to her face to tuck her red locks behind her ear. Your gentle actions caused her gaze to lift to your face.

Melissa’s eyes watered, but the tears were swiftly blinked away with a huff before she spoke, “I remember your hand on my face. Even while you slept, you seemed to know when I was cryin’ ‘cause your thumb would rub my cheek.”

After Melissa had crawled into your bed, you followed suit, drawing her to your chest. She rested her forehead against your sternum and she was using your bicep as a pillow. You could feel her tears falling from her cheek onto your skin which made tears threaten to fall from your own eyes.

“She loved you so much, pretty girl...” You whisper, drawing your hand to her cheek and rubbing soft circles into her cheekbone. She didn’t even protest as you pressed your lips against the top of her head. While sleep would overtake Mel and you periodically, you would always rouse with the feeling of tears against your skin. When you woke, you would gently rub her cheek until she would settle back down and fall asleep.

You offered a soft smile, “You were over a lot that week before the funeral... stress cooking. I don’t think my fridge has ever been that full since.”

The redhead let out a puff of air instead of a laugh, “Yeah…”

—

An hour later you had moved from the bar into a small booth where Melissa was pressed into your side. Mel’s behavior was a bit different than what you had come to know - it made you wonder what had changed within the past few months. You knew Mel wasn’t a regular of this bar so she might have been feeling comfortable in the anonymity and inebriation.

You lean in close, grinning wide when Melissa didn’t move away which only left a few centimeters between you both. You teased her quietly, reaching an unseen hand out to rest on her back, “Aren’t you nervous people might think you are flirting with me?”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” She lifted her nose into the air and smirked while her foot stroked your calf under the table. This was the flirtatious attitude you loved from Melissa.

“Maybe it’s how your shirt keeps getting pulled lower… Or maybe it’s how you keep getting closer... and closer.” Your finger teased at the edge of her now exposed bra and your lips lingered closer to hers with every word. In all of your years of knowing Melissa, you had never experienced a situation where it felt like you were on a date with her. Your chemistry was undeniable and you wondered if she felt it too.

“Maybe this is just how I talk to people.” Her lips brushed against yours before you were the one to pull away.

You leaned back in your seat, staring at her with a cocked head. While it was challenging to do so, you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t make this so easy for her. “Oh, yeah?”

She hummed, eying you as if she could eat you alive, “Mhmm.”

“Melissa?” A voice rang out from behind Mel causing you to sit a bit higher in order to see where the source of disturbance to your flirtation.

The redhead’s head whipped around as she obviously recognized who had interrupted. Tragically, she shifted away from you entirely to look at the young man face to face. Her cheeks were aflame as a scowl formed on her lips, “Jacob?”

Jacob lit up at the sight of Melissa’s face and from your outside perspective, he seemed to be well intentioned, yet potentially exasperating. He began speaking at a mile a minute, gesturing with his hands and occasionally peering around Mel to smile at you, “I didn't know you came to Good Dog! I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this?”

“Well I- What are you doing here? You had a date.” Melissa was obviously flustered and you only made matters worse as you leaned forward unsuspectingly and placed a hidden hand on the small of her back, lifting her shirt slightly to rub her bare skin. Your act made her sit up a bit straighter which made you grin.

“They said donating to NPR was the equivalent of funding the Trump campaign. I knew it wouldn’t work out from there.” Jacob waved off his own failed date and leaned against the table with his eyes focused on you. He had a bragidose air about himself as he explained his own relationship with Melissa - a relationship that obviously brought him a great deal of pride. “Who is this? I’m Jacob Hill. I work with Melissa at Abbott, and we are roommates.”

“Roommates? Incredible.” You respond, eyes wide with a faux excitement that was more meant to tease Melissa as you had no clue she was living with someone.

“Jacob. This is Y/N. We went to high school together.” Melissa introduced you and shifted back in her seat a couple inches to hide your hand on her from the young man. In the past, your relationship with Melissa was hyper-private so you found this experience entertaining. It felt sadistic that you were incredibly satisfied with watching Mel squirm in her seat with discomfort, but felt like a form of payback for years of her keeping you a secret.

Jacob didn’t seem to notice Melissa’s odd behavior and leaned over the table with a more hushed tone. His eyes were bright and enthusiastic as he questioned you, “Did Melissa ever do embarrassing things in school? She refuses to tell me anything that might lead me to know her age.”

You leaned in close to Jacob, whispering loud enough for Melissa to hear, “Voluminous hair. Bigger and higher than you can dream of. Lots of hairspray.”

Jacob was grinning wildly when Mel took him by the arm and guided him away from your little booth. It made you grin wickedly when you saw her having to readjust her shirt.

With a bit of increased proximity from Melissa, you were finally allowed a bit of clarity. You couldn’t believe what you were doing. Four months ago you had told her to leave, anticipating you would never have to see or speak to her again, and now you were wrapped around her finger once more. You needed to set boundaries for yourself and Melissa so as to not get your hopes up - after all, maybe a more structured ‘friends with benefits’ could work... right?

Melissa spoke quietly enough to keep you from hearing her scolding tone. All the while, Jacob hardly seemed fazed by how she growled when speaking to him, “Jacob, you never answered my question. What are ya’ doin’ here?”

Jacob fished his phone from his pocket and swiped it open to show her the app he used to figure out where she was. The redhead’s anger slowly simmered as she realized he was more well intentioned than her initial thoughts, “I saw your location was here on Find My iPhone. I was coming from up the street and just wanted to check in. Am I… interrupting something?”

“No! No. No. No.” Mel was defensive, folding her arms over her chest and glancing back at you with furrowed brows, “We are just catching up.”

“Okay.” His tone made it seem as though he didn’t quite believe the redhead, and to make matters worse for himself, he was smirking a little bit while he glanced back and forth between Mel and you.

Melissa’s tone alone was the equivalent to her baseball bat (Edith Houghton) in hand, “What’s with the little smirk?”

“Nothing.” Jacob’s coyness had Melissa ready to tear him in two, “What did you say your relationship was again?”

“What relationship? We are… friends. Just friends. From high school.” Melissa poked a finger in Jacob’s chest, snarling to get her point across - a fruitless pursuit.

“I remember when I caught up with this one friend from high school. We ended up messing around in his car afterwards.” Jacob’s newfound friendship with Melissa had him feeling much braver than he was a year ago. He teased the redhead with a wide grin and then waved to you before he made his exit. “It was nice meeting you! See you at home, roomie.”

—

After exiting the bar, you had found yourselves in the backseat of your car for a quick makeout session. On the way out of the front doors, Melissa had pulled you into the darkness of the nearby alley, pushed you against the wall, and kissed any remaining thoughts from your head. The only thought you were able to form after she took your hand and tugged you back towards your car was: God, I missed her.

You knew you should have made things harder for her. You shouldn’t have been able to be won back by a couple rounds of drinks and exchanging memories, but there was always something about this woman that felt so much like home that you couldn’t stay away. By the time she opened the door to the backseat and told you to get comfortable, you told yourself there would be other times to resolve the lingering issues between Mel and you.

“I think he knows.” Mel leaned back in your lap, resting her back against the driver's seat. She was breathing heavily from the nonstop kissing and most of her lipstick was now smeared across your mouth.

You knew she was panicked about her interaction with Jacob back at the bar, but your mind was a little preoccupied with the sight of Melissa’s bare chest. “Knows what?”

You leaned forward and attached your mouth to Melissa’s neck while your hands began working to unbutton her jeans. The redhead wove a hand into your hair to keep you against her as she continued her stressing, “He knows about us.”

“Who?” It wasn’t intentional, but you were entirely absentminded as your hands drifted back up and were now filled by Mel’s breasts.

Melissa huffed at your inability to follow her train of thought, “Jacob!”

“Mel…” You whined, pouting against her neck. After all of these months lamenting over your relationship while simultaneously yearning for Melissa, all you wanted after hours of emotional bonding was to act on the lust you had for her.

The redhead began rocking against your lap with her arms wound around your neck to continue her venting, “Gays have that, you know? Gay-dar or whatever.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Melissa’s phrasing as you dragged your tongue up her neck. She tasted citrusy yet floral from her orange blossom perfume, “Mhmm…”

“What if… God… What if he knows?”

“Knows what, Mel?” You finally pulled back, lifting Melissa’s chin to bring her gaze up so she was looking at you. Even with your efforts, she still averted her gaze.

“Knows I’m… I’m...” Melissa danced around the words, entirely overwhelmed with the prospect of admitting something she wasn’t quite ready to.

“Oh, pretty girl…” Your hands took the redhead’s face and held it close while you kissed her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ears. Mel was still pouting a little when you ducked your head down to catch her dejected gaze, “Why don’t you go home and talk to him?”

She whined and pouted with a pseudo-glare as her own way of arguing with you, “But we were-”

“Mel. I think we both know this will happen again sometime soon.” You pressed another kiss to her forehead and wrangled her into a hug. She struggled against your arms for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, allowing you to hold her for a few seconds.

When you pulled away, you began collecting her articles of clothing - presenting her with her bra and shirt for her to redress. Your adoring gaze and gentility made the redhead blush as this type of attention wasn’t exactly like anything she had experienced before with her boyfriends and husband, but it was a common feeling for her when you were together.

Not only did you open the door and help her out of the car (all while sitting down), you offered to walk her to her car. She couldn’t believe how she didn’t quite notice your adoration before. You had always tried your best to take care of the fiercely independent woman, but perhaps your gender had always made your care nonthreatening when compared to care from men.

She bumped her shoulder into you as you strolled down the darkened sidewalk towards her car. Her words were genuine albeit pained, “I’m really sorry… about always doin’ this to ya’.”

You could hardly believe you were receiving an apology from the redhead, so you couldn’t help but tease her in response - bumping her shoulder with your own, “Are you really?”

Melissa stopped in her tracks, staring up at you with an intensity you were not prepared for, “I am. You have always been good to me… I’m just- I’m figuring things out. You never deserved any of this.”

“Mel, it’s okay.” You felt discomfort in the vulnerability with Mel. All you had ever wanted was an apology and now that you had it, you didn’t know what to do with it.

She answered plainly as she continued walking to her car, “It’s not.”

You trailed after her towards her car, somewhat reeling as you thought about her apology. What did she mean when she said she was figuring things out? Did you have a chance with her? Maybe this is the result of you putting your foot down with her. Maybe she realized what was on the line and her desire for you outweighs whatever fear she has of being gay.

Your swirling thoughts bring forth a surge of confidence in you as you stand outside Melissa’s driver side door. Leaning your forearms on the open window of Mel’s car, you lean inside a bit - entirely unable to hide your giddy grin, “Can I kiss you goodbye?”

Melissa floundered for a moment. A goodbye kiss felt so much like a relationship, and after she had broken up with Gary, she told herself she wasn’t interested in anything like yet. But then again after everything happened between you, she didn’t want to hurt you by placing you back into the not-so-friend-zone once more. Finally, she nodded silently, leaning forward timidly in search of your lips.

As your lips made contact, you stretched out a hand to grasp her face. She hummed at the intensity of the kiss as she never expected it when you exuded this quiet dominance. You held her in place and licked at her bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and then pulled away slowly, leaving her stuck in place for a moment - completely dumbfounded. It was all so much at once and she was hardly expecting it.

“See ya’ around, Schemmenti.”

Just like that Melissa was back in your life, and this time you were filled with a bit of hope for your relationship. You didn’t want to put too much stock in it, but something felt a little different this time.

Jacob perched himself on the couch in the living room, staring intently at the front door as he waited for Melissa. The second she walked in the front door, he leaned back in his chair (just as he had practiced in his head) and flourishing his hands as he spoke, “Caught. Red. Handed.”

Mel dropped her bag by the front door as she locked it, rolling her eyes at Jacob’s dramatism, “What are you talkin’ about, kid?”

“You and a certain ‘friend’ sharing a little kiss in the parking lot.” He leaned forward in his seat, absolutely exhilarated with witnessing Melissa act so queerly. “Well, it was maybe more than a little.”

Jacob’s support was ignored as Mel saw a more glaring issue - he had been following her. Often she would scold Jacob, but now she was yelling, causing the young teacher to cower where he sat, “YOU WERE HANGIN’ AROUND WATCHIN’ ME?!”

While his tone was meek, he tried to maintain his positive attitude, “I had a feeling. I knew it! You’re bisexual!”

“No. I am not gay. I like men and that’s it!” Melissa shouted, waiting to finish tearing Jacob a new one before she would storm up the stairs and ignore the world for the rest of the evening. He attempted to interject, but she shut it down immediately and gestured fiercely with her hands to really get her point across, “Shut it. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about this, and don’t you dare think about telling anyone at school about this!”

Link to Chapter 5

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship

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maxiine · 26 days

Text

Wonderful big brother

_______________________________________________

Not proofread, contains spoilers of jjk259

——————————————————————————

You watched the scene play out in slow motion, as the chaos of sukunas rampage and flames had engulfed the entire area In a matter of seconds. Yuji had just lost his foot, struggling to escape he had only hoped everyone else was far away and safe. After all he believed this was his part to play in this game after all.

But in those mere seconds, choso had made his final appearance in front of his beloved younger brother. He shielded him with a barrier of blood, a small domain even- there was no telling.

He was protecting him with all his might. Shielding him from scorching at the flames of this monster. He was reminiscing the past while apologizing to yuji due to his lack of teaching skills. Apologizing for not being able to do much for him at all. As he continued on you could see choso burning, his once pale soft skin turning chard by the second.

But

He never stopped, he never once wavered from his spot in front of him. He was going to protect his little brother no matter what, all he ever cared about had been taken away, leaving him alone. But he now had this one person he cared for so deeply left in his grasp’s. He will NOT let him die.

The flames continued. Chipping away at the shield and turning choso unrecognizable.

And finally

Choso leaves yuji with his final words before he was nothing but ashes.

“Thank you yuji, for becoming my brother.” And as his voice fades, so do the flames.

Everything finally subsided leaving the smoke to fade.

Yuji had kept his eyes shut tight, refusing to open them up at first before whispering.

“Thank you big brother…” he looked up to see nothing but ruined land. An empty presence that leaves the same sinking feeling in his stomach that he’s becoming all too familiar with.

“Guys…someone..” yuji calls out but to no avail.

Choso was gone.

You had watched it all play out like a play before your eyes. Unable to do anything. Forced to witness the same disgusting actions by the hand of sukuna.

You had been killed by the same man not long after you had met choso. You aided him along with everyone else in finding solutions to freeing gojo and helping get Megumi back. You weren’t all that useful to be completely honest, you could only provide tips on rct and even aided choso and the others on teaching some of their techniques to yuji. You tried hard to help do your part, you tried to find a part to play in the first place, but you were left feeling sort of like and extra piece that was often set aside.

Choso however, never left you feeling useless or irrelevant. You were some of the only light to shine in his dark world. He found his brother but along side that all, he found you. You helped him in more ways than one, how could he not be grateful for you.

He yearned for the light you brought everyday, so imagine his world when he witnessed your bloodied mangled body left lifeless. In a mere instant, it was dark again.

—————————

“Where…where am I..” choso had whispered out confused. He wore a puzzled expression as he stared out into the empty space. A void almost. Nothing but white had surrounded him.

Choso was wearing his signature white sweatshirt and tattered jeans. A comfy and casual outfit he saw himself wearing in the same memory he had with all his brothers.

He wondered if he was back in that memory, all though he can still recall his final moments, so it wouldn’t make much sense he supposed. He wakes along the endless void until he felt a small presence behind him, startedled he turned around slowly. Bracing himself for what it may be. But he wasn’t prepared to see the beautiful light he had been yearning for all this time.

“You- you’re alive?” Choso reached out instantly scanning your body head to toe, still remembering the way your body last looked as he held it one last time. He stopped a few inches away before slowly grasping your face with his hands. His palms so warm and soft as they held you. Just as you remember.

“You were a wonderful brother choso.” You tell him sincerely as you look at him with such soft eyes. Reaching your hand to hold over his.

His mouth parted slightly and his eyes widened at the realization of what you said, what you had meant. Slowly piecing together what was possibly going on, he tilted his face downward allowing his emotions to take control of him, he could no longer take the weight of reality.

He cried. Silent tears left his eyes as he continued to stare at nothing at the ground. He moved foward to lay his head on your shoulder as he held your waist tightly and securely.

All you could do was hug him back as you slowly stroked his soft black hair that still remained in his signature spikey buns.

“Choso?” You call out to him as you help tilt his head upward. He looked at you with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Completely and utterly a beautiful man, but so so sad. You wipe his tears and stroke his cheek reminding him that it’ll be okay now.

“Are you ready to go?” You ask him.

Still confused he does nothing but tilt his head as if he was a curious puppy. You giggle at his actions before continuing to speak to ease his confusion.

“Are you ready to go see your brothers I mean. We all waited here, watching you fight all this time. And I hope you know..we were all cheering you on till the very end. I never had a doubt you’d be the best to yuji.” You tell him softly as you watch the light in his eyes glimmer at your words.

“We can head home now, how does that sound?” You reach your hand out to intertwine your fingers with his.

He stares at your hands together for a moment before looking up and finally speaking.

“Let’s go home.” He smiles at you one last time before you both make your way through the endless white void. Choso can’t help but look back one last time into the emptiness as he speaks.

“You can do this brother.”

Those words echo before finally fading away.

I wrote this right after reading leaks so my apologies if it wasn’t up to par. I’m grieving the loss of my favorite boy.

#jjk #jjk x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk 259 #jjk spoilers #anime and manga #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso my beloved #character death #jjk angst

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goldensunsetchild · 5 months

Text

♱ Odd Eye ♱ | SAGAU fanfiction|

[CW: SAGAU, cult themes, violence, imposter!creator, isekai'd reader, fem! reader. A little self indulgent. It might contain lore hypothesis as well.]

Word count: 2.5k

Author's note: please keep in mind that english is not my first language and that there may be some mistakes. I do hope that the story is coherent enough 😅.

It only took me some minutes before I could see Decarabian's tower and honestly, seeing it right before me and not behind a screen made me feel overwhelmed. Maybe it's because of all the elemental energy that flows in this place or maybe because of how big it really looked like... even if it was in such a bad state and almost crumbling, it has been there even after twenty-six hundred years. The wind helped me land on the tower's last floor and as I placed my feet on the ground, I paralyzed upon seeing the figure of someone else in there. Are they going to hurt me too?

"It took you so long to get here that I have started to wonder whenever l would be able to see you. Your Grace."

I... I recognize that voice.

"Tone-deaf bard!... I mean."

I coughed before correcting myself

"Venti. Are you here to hunt me as well?"

His turquoise eyes glanced up at me with confusion.

"Why would I do that, Your Grace? Only a blind fool would not recognize you. I waited a long time for the day you would return to us."

He... waited a long time? What does that mean? He is saying it as if I have actually been here before. I decided to take a seat down on the floor while my brain started to process the information Venti has just told me. If it's like he says, then could that mean that maybe I did used to be a deity here on Teyvat but then for some unknown reason when I ended up in Earth I "reincarnated" there and probably lost not only my memories from this world but also my powers. But wait a minute, if they are addressing me as the creator.. does that mean that I'm the usurper king? Am I really Phanes? I don't understand though I feel like there's information missing.

"Venti, are you completely sure I'm the creator?"

I asked giving him a serious glance.

"Of course you are, Your Grace."

He answered as if that was the dumbest thing to ask. Then I got up from my seat and grabbed him by his shoulders.

"Then... he... he probably hates me."

I whined in a sad voice. And Venti looked at me perplexed.

"He? Who would be such an idiot as to hate you, Your Grace?"

He asked but I didn't answer and I laid down on the floor. My hydro dragon, I'm not going to be able to stand it if he glances at me with hatered on his eyes so I sighed with resignation for I knew that even if I wanted to I didn't have the talent to convince him to not to hate me. Then I got seated back on the floor, I glanced at Venti and spoke.

"Do you have memories of the past? You know, from before I left this world."

I asked and he nodded.

"Of course I have, Your Grace. From back then when I was but a mere wisp of wind and went always following you around."

He said with a smile seeming to reminiscing about his past memories.

"Right, you didn't have a human body back then. Following what you say that I'm truly the creator of Teyvat, then I suppose I was the one to create you. Though I have the feeling that probably was out of pure boredom."

I said and Venti gasped.

"Your Grace, back then you also said something like that. That you only created me out of pure boredom."

Upon hearing that I couldn't help but burst into laughter. Venti looked at me rather confused.

"What's so amusing, Your Grace?"

He asked and after calming down I spoke.

"I apologize, it's just that I find rather amusing the fact that I have stayed almost the same in terms of personality."

Venti's eyes sparkled upon hearing that.

"Is that so? Then, then! What if instead to go and flirt with Morax, you flirt with me instead?"

He asked causing me to almost drown when I breathed in heavily. He immediately brought me some water upon seeing me cough so much, after calming down I glanced at him in disbelief.

"I-I used to flirt with Morax?"

I asked to him and he nodded. Damnit, even back then I was already down bad for Zhongli.

"I... I see. It seems that I had a really good taste in men."

I admitted and he pouted.

"You still like him?! Your Grace, how can you still like that old man? I'm much better than him!"

He said like a child throwing a tantrum. I cleared my throat.

"Let's leave this discussion for another time, could you please enlighten me more about the past?"

I asked and even if he was not that pleased with the sudden change in topic, he still obliged and started to tell me more of the old times. I stayed silent only listening to what he was saying as missing any piece of information would be bad for me, I needed to gather even the smallest of the details in order to process everything and reach out a conclusion. Once he finished I glanced at the sky and noticed it was getting dark already so it would probably be best for him to return to Mondstadt.

"Venti, you should go back. It's getting dark."

I uttered and he glanced at me.

"What? But I was thinking in staying to make you company."

He answered, it was clear that he indeed wanted to stay but.

"You can't stay with me. To the knights and the people of Mondstadt I'm but an imposter, I know that you currently live under the identity of Venti the Bard. And that's more of a reason for you to return, the people are going to start to think you are a traitor if you hangout too much with me."

I spoke and by the look on his face it was more than clear that he understood what I said. After he finally left, I sat down on the floor again and my brain started to go through all of the new information I got all over again. Even after arriving in Teyvat for some reason I've felt that I do belong here but shouldn't I be having back my memories by just steeping on this world? It's as if my connection with this world is being distorted by something... or someone.

I closed my eyes with the intention of meditating, maybe I'm missing a detail so if I concentrate I might be able to grasp it even a little. The night has already fallen so everything at Dvalin's lair was silent, of course with the exception of the sound of the wind hollowing through the cracks of Decarabian's tower. My mind soon started to get focused on the information I've gathered so far, recalling even Venti's stories about the past then suddenly I started to hear whispering voices.

There were a lot of them and I couldn't really understand what there were saying at all, so I tried my best to focus to see if I could maybe get a new clue... a word I could recognize.

"...Sä..."

...

"...Säk'..."

...

"¡Säk'mi!"

I opened my eyes startled, my heart rate had increased suddenly and my breathing was erratic. So I started to take deep breaths to calm down, I didn't know why but for some reason that word... or maybe it's was a name... either way, it felt way too familiar. I was really curious and want to investigate about it but at the same time there was this feeling in my gut that was telling me that I shouldn't dig into it, at least not yet. Since I wasn't really sleepy at all I glanced over the distance and noticed a small white finch that stood over one of the many broken bricks of Decarabian's tower, I smiled and closed my eyes for bit focusing on the image of the small bird and to my surprise I did started to see something.

At first the image was blurry but after a few moments it became more clear... wait... Isn't that me seated in the distance? Why am I seeing myself? Upon opening my eyes everything went back to normal, could it be... an ability to share senses with animals? Just how far away my reach works? To answer that question I closed my eyes once more and visualized one of the cats that was always outside of the Cat Tail's tavern and sooner my vision got adapted just like with the finch. As I suspected I indeed could see what the cat sees and not only that, upon paying enough attention I started to hear noises and voices as well.

If I concentrate enough, could I be able to mind swap with the cat just like Nahida did once with the Traveler? I focused and soon it happened, I moved the cat's body around for a bit when in the distance I noticed that Venti had finally returnned to the city and that he was heading towards the direction of the Angel's Share, so I decided to follow him careful of not getting too close if I didn't want to trigger his allergy. After finally getting inside of the tabern I hid under one of the tables and watched Venti sat down on a chair of the tavern's counter and to my surprise Diluc was there cleaning up some glasses. It seemed he immediately noticed that Venti was there for he started to spoke.

"You went to see her, don't you?"

He asked. "Her?" he... he isn't talking about me right?

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are talking about Master Diluc. Do you have Dandelion wine?"

Venti asked trying to avoid the talk. Nice cover, Venti.

"If you tell me how is she I'll give you a cup for free."

Diluc said and I saw how Venti's ears perked up. No, don't fall for that!

"In exchange for a bottle. I'll tell you anything you want to know about her."

Venti haggled with a smile. Nooo!!! Tone-deaf bard, you traitor!

"Fine, I'll give you the bottle. Where is she right now?"

Diluc asked. Wait... He really accepted Venti's proposal? No way.

"On Stromterror's lair."

Venti answered. I want to punch him right now, why is he selling my hide out to Mondstadt's Dark Night Hero? And by a mere bottle of Dandelion wine!!!

"Is she injured?"

Diluc asked another question. I glanced at his direction completely flabbergasted. I didn't heard wrong right? He asked if I was injured right?

"She is perfectly fine, with no scratch at all."

Venti answered and Diluc sighed in relief. Why is he sighing in relief??? Then I heard Venti ask him something.

"How come you know it's her and not an imposter like the Knights of Favonius and the rest of Mondstadt?"

Diluc glanced at Venti staying quiet for a moment, I actually want to know that as well. After some time he spoke again.

"Starchaser has been glowing ever since she arrived, unlike with the other one that descended before. Now it seems to want to be on hands of it's rightful owner."

Diluc answers. Starchaser? What's that and why it started glowing ever since I came here?

"Wait, you are telling me that you found the whereabouts of Her Grace's divine weapon?"

Venti asked him and I saw how Diluc nodded. Ohhh, so it's a divine weapon. Then is it something like Zeus's master bolt? Like Thor's Mjölnir? I remember that in almost all mythologies the god's always had a divine weapon. Hades with his helm of darkness, Poseidon had his trident, Odin had Gungnir that was a spear, Hǫfuð the sword of Heimdallr, Sudarshana Chakra the discus of Vishnu and I think Shiva had a trident as well and it's name was Trishula.

"I kept it a secret since anyways no mortal could lay a hand upon it, at least not without getting pulverized."

Diluc said with complete honesty. Well like mentioned in all mythologies as well, no mortal can touch a divine weapon without dying in the process. He then proceeded to ask Venti another question.

"Do you think she will be willing to meet with me so I can lead her to the location of her divine weapon?"

As I understood so far, it seems that Diluc understands that the "worshipped creator" it's not actually the creator and not only that but he hasn't even told to the Knights that he found their creator's divine weapon. Though I think I know why he has kept silent about it, like in the game, he does not trust the Knights and he prefers to handle things alone like he has always done before. But... can I really trust that he doesn't mean any harm to me? From what I have seen so far, people here behave like in the fanfictions I used to read about the imposter alternative universe. Blinded acolytes who would kill anyone who tried to impersonate their divine creator, that's actually one of the reasons why I hate religion and the church so much... because they always do bad things but they back themselves saying that is all in the name of their god.

"I could try to ask her tomorrow, let me convince her first that you don't suppose a threat to her and if she accepts then I'll introduce her myself to you."

Venti answered after a long silence. I then decided to go back to my body after leading the cat's body out of the tavern, after opening my eyes I was still on the last floor of Decarabian's tower so I sighed in relief. So I laid down on the floor and glanced up at the roof that was as just in a bad state as the rest of the tower. If it really turns out that Diluc is a potential ally then I might be able to survive a little until I can set up a plan before leaving Mondstadt, though it's not going to be easy since I don't know what the other characters and vision holders think about me or if they are aware like Diluc that the current creator is not actually their creator at all.

I let out a loud sigh before closing my eyes, just having to think all the things I would need to do tomorrow is already giving me a headache so let's just sleep for now. Let's just hope that the temperature does not get too cold, ahhh... maybe I should have asked Venti to fetch me a blanket. Anyways let's try to sleep and do the brain work tomorrow for right now I'm really tired, I also hope that Diluc can really become in my new ally so I can get to eat food for I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. So, it would be really ideal if everything could go just a little bit well.

To be continued

tag list

@atsukawolfcat

#self aware au #genshin impact #sagau #sagau fanfiction #fem reader #genshin self aware #odd eye fic✨

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bellamybellamyblake · 4 months

Text

When the Sun Sets - Part 4

Adriadne

Characters:

adriadne/morgan winchester (OC), dean winchester, sam winchester

Summary:

adriadne finds out who she was before she went to hell. and the winchesters will not rest until they fix what their sister did all those years ago.

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, murder, vague mention of not eating for a while, parental abuse, slight suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 10, following canon stops after the end of season 2 but things are sure to be mentioned

Word Total:

4k ~ roughly

A/N:

hi, so sorry its been so long, but i finally got the inspiration to continue writing this little mini series. i'm not convinced anyone is still interested in this story, but here's part 4. there's a little hatred towards blondes in this chapter - guys i actually love blonde hair i think its gorgeous - your girl is just a demon. my search history after writing this chapter, god help me.

this takes place loosely around season 10 and i kind of combined when sam tries to cure crowley with when he cures dean.

let me tell you, writing about a person who has no idea what's real is not easy to make good - its a 0/10 for me and i'm not convinced i even succeeded at that

italics = inner thoughts/memories

dean: 36, morgan: 35 (her body is 27), sam: 32

Adriadne vaguely remembered hating the moon coming up when she was human. For some reason, she detested nighttime and all that came with it. She had wanted to believe she wasn't as bad as the humans when she was one. But as she roamed the street of whatever bumblefuck town she was in, she remembered staring blankly at a street lamp once.

It was the only light she had seen for several miles. It illuminated a small bus stop with a bench and a pay phone attached to it. She was in some loud car, with even louder music playing, with her intolerably quiet family. The faces, names, and details of any of them had been long washed away. Somebody in her family needed to make a call, so they stopped, and she was left alone for a few minutes. The yellow beams that kept that area lit were the only thing keeping her from panicking. She had assumed she was only a child in the memory because, I mean, seriously? An adult scared of the dark?

If she had been an adult, Satan help her if she was, it would have been further proof of how weak humans are. Actually, regardless, it was proof. There was no light in Hell. Everything was dark, and only with the sight of a demon could anyone see. She bristled at the thought. Since being on Earth, she had no desire to go back downstairs.

The darkness of the night did give her a little sense of reminiscence, though. Of home, Alastair, Crowley, her tools. Where she could roam freely without having to cling to that damn sack of flesh. But the daytime was a close second, in her opinion. The sun, as bright and almost blinding as it was, was warm. And it felt��kind of nice.

Turned out, she was a natural blonde, a type of blonde that got even lighter when she lay in the sun. And that rubbed her the wrong way. Like, who was actually blonde nowadays? Every blonde Alastair assigned to her was quickly scalped. And when they were healed, she would do it again. Then, she'd make them drink anti-freeze because many of them had blue eyes. It really had been a fun game.

Watching them die slowly and painfully was always an excellent way to waste an hour. And when they were brought back to life, it was back to her regularly scheduled programming.

It sucked even more that she had blue eyes too. They were so light. Like the human fucking sky or some shit. She liked her black eyes. They were who she was, a dark and malevolent visitor on this planet of fluffy little bunnies.

At the sound of a whistle, a very loud one, she turned to find the source. "Damn, baby." The man said. He was some random guy on the corner of the street, watching her as she walked. "What's your name?"

She planted a demure little smile like she was so flattered by the attention. With a blush, she said, "Mary."

He smirked. "Are you a virgin, too?"

Imbecile, she groaned inside her head. She had heard that joke back home. It was usually the first thing a demon said when assigned someone with that name. After hearing it for the first time, she chuckled. The second time, she grinned. The fifty-seventh? She ignored it.

Come up with something new, people, will you?

She flashed some doe eyes at him and pretended to blush even more. "How did you know?"

"I tend to sense these things."

"Oh, do you?" She asked with a grin, flashing her natural eyes at him. But before he could scream, she was slitting his throat.

When the jugular veins are severed, there is a relatively low spray of dark red blood, accompanied by the sound of escaping air, and the human coughs it up. So, to get a forceful spray of bright red, Adriadne's favorite, she cuts the carotid. And usually aims to sever the trachea so they gasp and wither at her feet. And with this guy? She hit the nail on the head.

It only takes a few minutes, but it's such a satisfying death. Being in the land of the living, slitting throats quickly became one of her favorite forms of sending them exactly where they belonged.

When Sam and Dean Winchester caught wind of a case; six hundred sixty-four bodies across the country with a slit throat and the Latin symbol for "hellhound" carved over their right eyebrow, they got on it. They didn't want to let it get to that magic number.

And when they got to the most recent crime scene, Lena Franklin, a thirty-one-year-old female - mother of three - with the same injuries, they found who they were looking for, taking another victim. Only they weren't expecting to find their sister standing over the body.

After knocking her out and locking her up, they summoned Crowley as soon as possible. It was like their lives depended on it, or really, it was their sister's life that they were worried about.

And when he explained the situation to them, they knew what they had to do.

With a whine, Adriadne awoke in a strange room. Filled with walls of file cabinets and Enochian or Latin symbols. She tried to rub at her head, where that damn vase had been thrown at her, but she noticed she was chained down. Usually, she wouldn't have an issue with chains; she could break through steel, and they were so satisfying when some human tried to escape them. But not only were these not steel chains, they were iron. And they had warding signs carved in them.

Fucking hunters.

Surprisingly, if there was any human she didn't entirely detest, it was hunters. They were more robust than the rest and really knew what the real world was like. But they were after her, so now, they had to die. Slowly, bloody, painfully.

"Welcome back, jackass," A voice she recognized said. The same voice threw the vase at her however many hours ago. It was the shorter of the two, but he had the more resounding voice. They were tall for humans, but the other was way bigger. Gigantor also seemed like he was friendlier, the dumbass.

She had heard of the Winchester brothers in Hell. Sam and Dean, she believed their names were. Two brooding brothers with mommy and daddy issues that jumpstarted the apocalypse. Then they fixed it and sent Lucifer back into his cage with Michael. They'd been in and out of hell themselves a few times. The only humans to ever accomplish such feats.

Clearly, they weren't stupid, but goddamn, were they annoying.

Sam was younger but a bit more book-smart, and Dean was the older but sarcastic one. She vaguely knew they had a thing for dying for each other, but that only made her roll her eyes like she so often did at these creatures.

"Dean," Sam scolded.

"And what a warm one at that. You ever have people over?" She groaned. The boys didn't respond, both just shaking their heads. They started pulling stuff out of a cooler, and she read what it said on it with a scoff. "Human blood? You're seriously gonna try and cure me?"

"Yep," Dean deadpanned.

"Oh, please," Adriadne drawled as her head fell back on her shoulders. "Spare me."

"You're a demon, Mo," The youngest said, like it was the worst thing in the world she could be. "We're not just gonna leave you like this."

"Mo? Who the hell is Mo?"

"Morgan," Dean explained, his voice monotone but somehow angry at the same time. "Our sister. The human that you used to be. So we're doing what we should'a done years ago. And saving you. Even if it is from yourself."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah," Sam quipped, annoyed. "Crowley said you wouldn't remember."

"Crowley's the one that-"

"We know," Dean said. "Just shut up."

I didn't even know the Winchesters had a sister, Adriadne thought. But to hell if she wanted to become a damn human. Why would she even consider it? "Ever think maybe your sister wouldn't wanna be saved?"

"Doesn't matter." The oldest Winchester remarked, his voice flat. "You don't get a choice."

With a huff, Adriadne chuckled darkly. "Just let me go do what I wanna do. I don't bother you; you don't bother me. So what the hell do you care?"

"What do we care?" Sam asked, almost dejectedly. He shook his head, not dignifying her with a response, and started pouring holy water around the devil's trap. Reciting the Latin to start the ritual, he grabbed a needle, loaded it up with human blood, and handed it to Dean.

Adriadne looked at her supposed brothers, she didn't even know their birth order. She knew Dean was the oldest and Sam was the youngest. But where did she fit in the lineup? "You got anything stronger in there? Some heroin? Meth? Maybe it'd really make me feel somethin'."

"Don't worry, honey, you're gonna feel a lot."

And before she could fight it, he put the syringe in her arm and pumped the blood directly into her arm. She could feel it coursing through her veins, traveling through her bones, her arteries, her cells. Weaving its way throughout her body like an itch you can't scratch. Involuntarily, she let out a loud roar, a demonic roar, of pain. This damn human blood did not agree with her.

"Look," Sam said as both brothers backed away from her. "We've got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make this a lot easier on yourself."

"And just in case some part of you gives a crap, we got your blood type."

"You wanna know something?" Adriadne asked, but a new wave of pain from the human blood cut her off. She groaned but wouldn't let it cut her off too long. She was a demon, after all, and pain had never been something she feared. It was something she admired, longed for, craved. "The part of your sister that cared died a long time ago."

Five times, the Winchester brothers had streamlined her with human blood. They didn't say anything when they came in this time, silently injecting her with round six. Like it was the only thing keeping them from breaking.

Adriadne was a demon; she knew that. But now things were becoming a little muddled. There had been small things, small tidbits of images popping in and out of her brain.

They weren't like dreams or nightmares. They were more like poorly done movies of being beaten by someone she was supposed to call her father. Dreams of fighting with her siblings, where even they'd beaten her - but also when she fought back, and they took the beatings themselves. She won and lost over and over, losing the fight when Sam left them for school, winning when Dean tried to get her to stop seeing her high school boyfriend, losing when Dean took away the knife he gave her, and winning when she eventually stole it back. She remembered watching their so-called father yell and scream, practically torturing who she was told were her brothers. She remembered not being able to do anything about it.

She saw herself hunting other creatures - not humans, but monsters. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, djinns, banshees, rugarus. She saw herself taking beatings from them, nearly dying from her injuries several times. She saw herself lose her virginity to a sweet guy from her high school at the time. She saw herself take that night and turn it into a string of drunken one-night stands.

She saw her father coming home drunk almost every night, beaten up. She saw herself patching him up, giving him stitches when necessary. She'd been the one to set her brother's bones when they were broken or dislocated. She'd have to be the one to reset her own because none of them were as good as she was at it. She saw the woman who was supposed to be her mother burn to death on a ceiling as her older brother - a toddler himself - pulled her and her little brother to safety.

And she remembered her father dying, making a deal with a demon to keep his oldest son alive and breathing. Then she remembered doing the same thing for her younger brother.

"You're the Winchesters," Adriadne drawled. "You're hunters. So am I an idiot to assume what you're gonna do once you realize this won't work? You think you got the stomach for that? Killing the girl you think is your sister?"

"We're not worried," Sam denied. "Because we've done this before."

It had been nine hours, nine injections of human blood in her veins, and she could name nine parts of her body she could barely move. She hadn't felt so useless since she was on the rack, and even then, she had a purpose. To postpone, to make it as long as she could. Alastair had given her a choice. Stay on, deal with the consequences, or get off, and then do it to someone else who deserved it too.

She had been at the end of her rope; her soul was already ripped to shreds. And then they healed her and broke it again.

The humans deserved it - that's what she was taught.

But then, why was I the one on the rack? I'm not human.

Yes, I am. Or...I was.

No. My name is Ad-Adria-

She had been having so many memories over the last several hours. But they had to be dreams; she didn't remember them belonging to her. Of the Winchesters, of growing up on Earth, of being a part of an admittedly screwed-up family.

My name is-

"How you doin', Mo?" That was Sam, her…younger brother, she had remembered. The memories were like a plague, keeping her sedentary in a time she had long forgotten. A time, she didn't know if she wanted to go back to or not. It was a time when she cared about them, about humans in general. A time when she had the ability to care.

Mo. Morgan.

She was confused when they called her that. She didn't know how to describe it. But something was weird about that name. These were people that she knew before she went to Hell. People she loved. People she would've sacrificed everything for. People she did sacrifice everything for.

"It doesn't feel right," She rasped, shaking her head as much as possible. Which, apparently, was not a lot.

"No, shit," And there's Dean.

"When you call me that," She explained, despondent, trying to blink away the new memory attempting to take hold of her reality. "It doesn't feel like my name."

"Well, what is your name?"

She didn't know. Adriadne was supposed to be her name. Morgan was supposed to be her name. How could someone not know their own fucking name? It was the most basic form of identification. Even demons had names. A new wave of pain hits her, and she grips the chair with all her strength. It wasn't a lot; she was so weak. But then another memory took over, and she wasn't even in that room anymore.

"What is your name?" He had asked, his voice cold and unemotional. The girl only shook her head in response, knowing what was coming with her answer. "You will answer me when I speak to you, girl.

"Morgan," She choked out, tears already rolling. "Morgan Winchester."

"You don't deserve my last name." Before she could blink, her cheek was stinging, and she was on the motel room floor. More tears fell involuntarily at the searing pain, at the blood dripping down her face from his ring. She flinched at the hand he rose again, but no hit came. Instead, he laughed - a heartless and calculating laugh. Like it was amusing watching his thirteen-year-old daughter cower at his feet. "You are no Winchester."

He was ready to strike a second time when someone got in the way.

"Get out of the way, Sam."

"No," his little voice announced. She could hear the emotion in his words as he continued. The little ten-year-old was scrawny, even smaller than she was. "She knows what she did. You don't have to hit her again."

Ignoring the boy, her father turned back to Morgan, practically looking through her little brother. "So this is what you've come to? Making little Sammy fight your damn battles for you?"

She looked him straight in the eyes; the green they usually held was almost black in the room's dim lighting. She had seen this so many times when he was angry, when a hunt didn't go his way, when his children disobeyed him. When she did something wrong.

"Boys," Her father called, ordering them to shut up and listen. Dean took his hands away from his face with a wince. Sam winced, too, backing away from his father. Nearly crashing into her. "Take this as a learning opportunity. We fight our own battles in this family. And we don't rely on other people to do it for us."

And with that, Sam was pushed out of the way, and he was on top of her.

"Dad," She gasped, finally back in the present but staring into space. Both brothers' heads shot up at the recall. "He was- he was mean."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, making her eyes lock on his. The whites of his eyes were red like the mention of his father had him holding things back. A storm was brewing behind his eyes, one he wouldn't let come to fruition. "He had his moments."

"He was so mad all the time," The girl croaked, her voice breaking even more. She was lost, not looking at them. Keeping her eyes down, they darted back and forth as she practically stared through the flesh and bone before her. "Watch out for Sammy. Make sure Sam's safe. Don't let anybody touch Sammy. If anything happens to him, I'll know whose fault it is." Her older brother only nodded, but Sam's eyes fluttered back and forth between his siblings. Like he was realizing something he hadn't before. "We were always watching out for Sammy. Who- who watched out for us?"

"Well, for one, Sammy watched out for us. And I watched for both of you, and you took care of us."

"I took care of you?"

"Yeah, Mo, you did," Sam said plainly.

"But I-I went to-" She denied, not entirely believing them. "I went to Hell, and now I don't know anything. You're my brothers? My family? My family tortured me. They-they're the ones that put me on the rack."

"Is that what they told you?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"I saw it!" She roared. Everything came back to her in waves, and not like a movie this time; these were memories. She knew it; she couldn't question it. "You hurt me- you- you touched me." She finally looked up at them, unable to hide the tears. She shook her head, trying to shake away the red, the blood, the screaming, the agony. "You- you- family isn't supposed to do that!"

Sam and Dean stared, their faces pale and drained. They didn't hide their emotions - like she remembered they did so often. They wore it plainly on their faces. Sam was a mixture of deep regret and sorrow. Dean wasn't just angry; he was simmering with rage.

"Now, you listen to me," Dean ordered, and she could almost hear a trace of their father in his voice. He leaned against the arms of her chair - her current prison - and gave her a stare that kept her captive in his gaze. "I went to Hell, too. They did the same thing to me. It. Wasn't. Us. And I know you don't believe that. But you will. Eventually."

When he finished, she nodded. He was wrong. Some part of her did believe him. The conviction in his words, the way he didn't bother to hide the angry tears in his eyes. Some part of her - a minuscule part - hoped he wasn't lying. That her family was still there for her. That maybe, even after everything that had happened, they would hold her when this was all over.

At her slight confirmation, he nodded, too, and stepped back, giving his younger brother room for the next shot. Sam came forward and quickly, without hesitation, put the syringe in her arm and pressed down.

"I don't even know my own name."

Sam didn't balk at her words. He just shook his head and gave her a small, barely there smile.

"You will."

"I don't wanna be human," She cried. Eleven injections in, she could feel the human blood becoming her own. Integrating into her bones, her DNA changed with every second that passed. Her power was draining, and she didn't like it. She was returning to who she was before Hell, the young girl with daddy issues, with two brothers who loved her - but could never get along with.

"Humans are weak, they- their emotions, it's too much," She continued, shuddering. "They feel too much, they don't see how useless they are. How- how small they are. There are eight billion of you, and all of you think you're the most important one. You all think you have some fucked up purpose, that there's something more you can do with your pointless little lives."

"No one here is gonna tell you that being human is a walk in the park," Sam said, his voice calm and steady as if he was expecting her to say this. "But it is better than being a demon. Than killing for no reason. Because even if you don't believe it, I believe we do have a purpose. Maybe it's a tiny one, maybe you're just supposed to be here to make someone else happy. Maybe you're here to teach someone a lesson. Maybe you're here to save the world." His words got light at that, like it was an inside joke, and Dean let out a small laugh. But just because you don't know what it is or can't see it doesn't mean you don't have one."

Before she could respond or give any words to the contrary, he put the needle in her arm and gave her the twelfth shot.

Morgan Winchester opened her eyes. And they were black. She could feel it, feel the remnants of Hell in her eyes. But as quickly as it came, it went. And as they cleared, she groaned. It was a strange feeling, but she felt lighter. Like there wasn't as much weight on her shoulders as before. Her eyes were blue again, like the sky people loved to stare at. Then she remembered she was human again. She was just a young girl again, not a demon, not a monster.

And then the weight returned. Only this time, it was even heavier, as if someone had tied an anvil around her neck and thrown her into the ocean. She remembered everything. Her life, her father, her mother, her brothers, Sam dying, her dad dying, her deal with a demon, Hell, being tortured, then turning around and doing the same, becoming a demon, becoming Adriadne, taking a joyride upstairs, murdering so many innocents. Then, being in here, the crowded but well-protected safe room in some place she had no knowledge of.

She could see her brothers a few feet away. Sam stood in front of Dean, holding a flask - their postures were identical. Tight and reserved, with their brows furrowed and their feet cemented into the floor.

Her face contorted into a question, and she greeted them with their names. She didn't know what else to say. But before she could speak again, Dean threw whatever was in the flask at her face.

Water. Water. Water.

And without needing a second to think about it, Morgan realized it was blessed. Holy water. They were putting her through one final test. To see if their work had paid off. When it didn't burn, sizzle, or boil her skin, her brothers let out a deep exhale of relief. Then, so did she.

"Welcome back, Morgan."

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x ofc #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #bobby singer #team free will #castiel

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goodbysunball · 1 month

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Digital monsters

Sneaking a few in before April's done and gone. Many of these musics were experienced digitally only for the most part, whether it was due to lack of a physical product or expensive import prices, none of which now apply (except for the Stone Rollers) as I finally get around to posting this. Ian's making Light Metal Age tapes, MIKE just put Pinball on CD, I finally pulled the trigger on KNÆKKET SMIL, etc. Still, the car is the place where most listening is done these days, an unavoidable and really-not-that-bad reality. Windows down, these up:

Maria Bertel & Nina Garcia, KNÆKKET SMIL (Kraak/No Lagos Musique/Otomatik)

It would not be much of an understatement to say I'm a bit burned out on free-improv-jazz and adjacent records, but a live video posted earlier this year by @dustedandsocial piqued my interest in this duo. Nina Garcia shreds and mangles the guitar in a manner both controlled and explosive, like the best no wave auteurs, but the draw here is what Maria Bertel does with the trombone. She pulls these long, drawn-out notes from the belly of the instrument, like glass fibers being pulled from a melt, reminiscent Phill Niblock's arrangements for cello or voice. There's plenty of scrape 'n skronk coming from the trombone, too, like on "Trick & Illusion," but I find the bass-y drones to be more interesting. The end result is a brittle, harsh push-pull between the relatively free guitar and the more grounded trombone, where it often sounds like the two are running in circles in a room with their eyes closed, occasionally colliding to combine forces. When they are not at odds, as on "Nightmare of a Lunatic," the results can be thrilling. At other points on the record I am reminded of Harvey Milk's "Pinnochio's Example" (the title track), later-period Sightings ("Lost Arts," "Twin Truths") and the instrumental side of Khanate ("Playground of Blind Forces," "Inorganic Body"). Given how this is presented - bare, without any perceivable ornamentation or post-production - it makes for a tough listen; you've gotta be in the mood for something this harsh and unadorned, 'cause meeting you halfway isn't happening. But, if you've any affinity for old instruments hammered into new shapes by inspired/inspiring hands, there's some powerful, almost-mystic energy wafting from the grooves.

Bobby Would, Relics of Our Life (Digital Regress)

Bobby’s back, continuing his partnership with the esteemed Digital Regress label, who brought his STYX release to the LP format. STYX was dedicated to his mother, and initial listens have left me convinced that Relics also appears to be wrestling with her passing. Unlike STYX, which contained tracks like "Hype On" that worked themselves into something resembling upbeat and energetic, Relics is a comparatively somber affair. It's bookended by two quiet instrumental tracks ("Runaway" is especially good), and in between is more skeletal, maybe even refined, version of Bobby Would. The overall effect here is often reminiscent of Wonderfuls, or Lewsberg on In Your Hands: gossamer-thin arrangements, sparkling guitars, slow tempos and mumbled vocals. While there are points where Bobby Would presents as a bit listless or hopeless, it never stretches to the maudlin, mostly due to the opaque phrasing. As on previous BW releases, the lyrics are still usually little more than repetition of single phrases until they become profound, which works especially well on these subdued arrangements. The more I listen, the more it sounds like a natural progression from his last two proper LPs, the subtle refinement of a now-signature sound. Like “Maybe You Should” from World Wide World, “Tryin' 2," "Is It Nice Now?" and “No More” rank with some of his best slow dancers; "Explain" and "All I Do" feel like Baby's grown now, using only the necessary elements to create a song and cutting the tape when it's done (not that Bobby Would has ever had a problem with economy). The only misstep here? The hidden track at the end of the physical record, a cover of UB40's "Red Red Wine" (no fucking joke), and nothing more need be said about that. The nine tracks that properly make up Relics of Our Life deserve to be lived in, spindly guitar lines swirling around like smoke and mumbled vocal incantations taking you elsewhere for the duration. Another unassuming gem from the surprisingly durable Bobby Would.

Light Metal Age, s/t (self-released)

In retrospect, I think Gen Pop's PPM66 is one of the best records to come out in the past decade, wringing modern ennui by the neck to squeeze out lyrical inspiration, nailing down a balance between catchy and smart in an impressively effortless way. That record flew, and still flies, under the radar, unfortunately, and the band is no more. Light Metal Age is the new project of Gen Pop's Ian Patrick Corrigan, and it sorta picks up the thread of PPM66, but veers off into the countrified black humor of Country Teasers ("Quil Ceda"), lonesome new age ("Oakland 2017"), and a chilling minimal synth track ("Garage In Meridian"). Corrigan's vocals sound like Bill Callahan in his early days as Smog, but in content he appears to be searching for a place or meaning or some sign that the world isn't as backwards and cruel as it actually is. I think opener "What He's Done" is my favorite song of the year so far, a perfectly dusty guitar line paired with deep, reverberated vocals coldly presenting a personal inventory (“Tattoos since he was 20,” “$20K he owes/20 years to go”). It’s all tied together by the chorus of “You said let it go/But do you know/what he’s done?,” the anxiety of being a prisoner of your past neatly summarized. “Quil Ceda" is my other standout favorite, the biting line "It will make you sick" now popping up in my head all too often as I go about my days. Really, there's something to like on every track here: the double-timed portion toward the end of "T.U.L.I.P."; the rain-soaked, pre-dawn alleys conjured by "Garage In Meridian"; and the subdued Ben Wallers impression on "Gaps In the Material." Sure, "Oakland 2017" is maybe a bit long and saps momentum plopped in the middle, but this seems more like a mixtape than a finished product, and I've come to appreciate the cracks in the tracks forced together. I've been playing it non-stop for nearly two months now, a potent distillation of the young American's modern struggle, laid out without self-pity and the right amount of simmering discontent. Can't ask for much more.

MIKE & Tony Seltzer, Pinball (10K)

Here’s an unexpectedly economical and breezy offering from MIKE, produced entirely by Tony Seltzer. Not sure what Tony Seltzer did here to allow MIKE to let down his guard and puff out his chest a little, but it’s a welcome change of pace, if a bit forgettable. Seltzer’s beats aren’t going to have many rappers come calling, but they’re exciting enough jumping off points for MIKE to try on different personas. I get hints of UGK-era Bun-B (named checked in “Underground Kingz,” as required), Young Dolph, and Lil Baby in MIKE’s rapping on Pinball, and it’s fun and jarring to hear him rap over trap beats like “Yin-Yang.” For all his efforts, the album lags in spots - “100 Gecs,” “Underground Kingz” and “R&B” have become laborious over multiple listens, the beats sputtering, the rapping losing steam without MIKE’s usual emotional overflow. But the opener “Two Door,” the unassuming bounce of “Skurrr” and "Pinball," and the Niontay-featuring “2k24 Tour” still connect, MIKE throwing off a satin boxing robe and sparring with whoever. It’s true that overexposure to this album over the past few weeks has probably taken away some of its luster, but hearing MIKE in this capacity paints a more complete picture of him as an artist. Short ‘n mostly sweet, with no tears, Pinball’s sure to be a steady listen through the punishing summer ahead.

The Stone Rollers, The Ballad of Bill Spears (self-released)

Are the Woolen Men done? Nothing official on that, but members are shifting priorities to other groups: guitarist Lawton Browning is in Change Life, and the Stone Rollers features WM drummer Raf Spielman. The Stone Rollers have been releasing single tracks, one at a time, since September of last year, and The Ballad of Bill Spears puts all four tracks together. It's a separate project and unfair to compare the two, though there are strong sonic similarities to the Woolen Men. The Stone Rollers are bouncy and hard-strumming, somewhere between folk protest songs (yes, there's harmonica) and country with a punk edge (but obviously not as bad as that descriptor conjures). In the spirit of the best country songs, the Stone Rollers don't restrain themselves from saying some really mean shit on these songs, taking people to task with an acid tongue and leaving without apology. I like all four songs - if you're not listening to the lyrics too closely, these are breezy pop songs with the strong character of the '60s - but I think "The Shell Song" and "You Can't Reach Me" are the two best. The former has the harshest lyrics ("When I see you down the line, I hope you're not the same" and "I won't wait around to see what you become/because good or bad I do not care at all"), and "You Can't Reach Me" is an ode to the dream of escaping "my life/bound up so tight" for the greener grass. All four tracks are simple and effective/affecting in an immediate way, familiar but bristling, classic-sounding but unmistakably modern. A nice teaser from the Rollers, who I can only hope will excoriate this feeble review on an upcoming track.

#Maria Bertel #Nina Garcia #KRAAK #Bobby Would #Digital Regress #Light Metal Age #Gen Pop #MIKE #Tony Seltzer #Stone Rollers #Woolen Men

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bbangsoonie · 2 years

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days in memory

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: angst word count: 3,385 synopsis: jaehyun reminisces the past as he longs for you and his youth

The bear keychain bounced against your backpack as you ran ahead. The wind blew strands of hair into your face but your smile remained unfazed.

“Come on, slowpoke!” you teasingly yelled.

Jaehyun watched you from the window. His apartment was only a floor up from the ground, meaning he could converse with you from the comfort of his bed.

“What are you up so early for?” he grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s the first day of senior year, Hyunjae,” you grinned.

Hyunjae was the nickname you gave him since the start of your friendship. There were too many Jaehyuns at your school and you wanted to specially differentiate him from the others.

“Yeah but you’re like 20 minutes early.”

“I wanna be the first to choose a seat!”

“Good for you. I don’t care where I sit, so I’m gonna sleep in a little more.”

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your expression was a mix of pouting and huffing.

“We’re literally in the same homeroom for the 6th year in a row. You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” he rolled his eyes as he climbed back under the covers.

“Don’t complain about your seat later!”

Jaehyun gasped as he jolted awake. Glancing at the clock, he sighed.

7:12 AM.

Every year on this day, his body woke him up at this time with the same dream. Or was it a nightmare?

With a grunt, he got up to start his day.

He began by turning on all the lights to rid the place of any darkness. It was a habit he picked up over the years. He couldn’t explain why it brought him comfort. It just did.

Trudging over to the bathroom, he relied on muscle memory to go through his morning routine. He blanked out until he was done freshening up.

Staring at the empty fridge in front of him, another sigh escaped his lips. He had forgotten to go grocery shopping last week.

He threw on a hat and slipped into a pair of worn out sneakers to head out to the nearby mart. It was a small family-run shop located in front of a bus stop.

As he was looking at the cases of water bottles placed outside, he heard footsteps rush by him. The noise made him turn around, catching sight of two teenagers running towards the departing bus. They were a second too late, causing them to groan in frustration.

“Kim Sunwoo, this is all your fault!” the girl accused.

“Me? Oh yeah because I’m the one who spent 15 minutes putting on makeup,” the boy retorted.

“15 minutes is really short for makeup!”

“Whatever. Now we’re gonna be late for school.”

Jaehyun eyed the uniforms they were wearing. Hanlim Arts High School. His alma mater.

He almost chuckled at what seemed to be a familiar scene. You used to always blame him for being late. Even if he was ready and waiting outside by the time you ran out the door with your bow in your hand.

When the bus inevitably passed you two by, he would help you put the bow on as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Bickering all the while.

The old lady’s voice snapped him back to reality. He quickly picked out some things before paying and leaving.

Just like the passing sunset Memories of being immature and innocent They make me stop in place And draw out the days in my memory

By the time Jaehyun left for school, it was raining. It was a complete change of weather that caught everyone off guard. Wondering if you made it to school dry, he grabbed an extra umbrella for you to use on the way back home.

The sky angrily greeted him with a thunderclap. It nearly made him jump in surprise.

“Better hurry up to meet Y/n before she starts crying,” he mumbled to himself as he made a run for the bus stop.

You were terrified of thunderstorms. The loud noises made your heart race and your body tremble. Only Jaehyun took to comforting you without making a snide comment about your fear at the age of 17.

He anxiously waited for the bus that was delayed by the sudden downpour. He barely managed to squeeze inside before the doors closed tightly behind him.

Unluckily for him, he arrived at the school gate 10 minutes late. The dean shook his head as he handed him a detention slip, to which Jaehyun whined at.

“Come on, Mr. Choi, how could I have prepared for the storm that wasn’t even predicted by the weather app?”

“Hurry up and go to class. You’re already late and you’re getting wet.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jaehyun begrudgingly complied.

When he finally made it to the classroom, the teacher was in the middle of introductions. Sheepishly apologizing, he scanned the room for an empty seat and made a beeline for it.

It was straight in the middle. Literally in the middle of the front and back rows as well as the left and right rows. Your voice nagging at him to not complain echoed in his head. He could already picture you snickering at him.

Except you weren’t.

He looked around but couldn’t find you. Puzzled, he wondered if you tricked him into thinking you were in the same class as him.

“Y/n?” the teacher called out.

When you didn’t reply, she looked up from the roster and eyed the empty seat in the front.

“Absent,” she said as she checked off your name on the sheet.

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun found himself raising his hand before he even realized it. “There’s no way Y/n is absent. We live in the same apartment complex and she left for school before I did.”

“Well, she’s not in her seat so that makes her absent.”

While the teacher continued to take attendance, Jaehyun pulled out his phone and hid it under the desk to text you.

After asking about your whereabouts, he asked if you were okay amidst the thundering. When you didn’t respond to his messages, he began to worry.

He snuck out at the end of first period to go to the bathroom to call you. It rang until it reached voicemail. Now he was really worried.

You were a nerd who was excited to pick your seat in class. Not the type to skip school on the first day.

After 3 missed calls, he hesitated to call your mom. What if he was just overreacting? What if you had finally decided to rebel a little for the first time in your life and he would be the one to ruin it?

His fingers fidgeted in contemplation, hovering over the phone screen.

“Whatever. She’s tattles on me all the time,” he decided as he looked for your mom’s number.

“Jaehyun?” Jacob waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. He looked over to Younghoon, who shook Jaehyun out of his memory.

“You okay?” Younghoon asked carefully.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Jaehyun apologized as he poured himself another drink.

His friends stared at him with concern in their eyes. Sensing this, he looked up and forced a laugh.

“Really. I’m fine,” he lied.

He wasn’t fine. Everyone knew that. And he knew that as well. If anything, he was trying to convince himself more than others.

“We can talk about… what happened, you know,” Younghoon assured.

“Today marks 3 years, right?” Jacob sadly recalled.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched at the mention of the incident. His attention turned to the raindrops hitting the window outside. The forecast had warned him of a storm.

When it began to thunder, his heart ached in memory of you. Unable to bear it any longer, he excused himself from the table.

He stepped outside in hopes of clearing his head. The canopy roof did little to protect him from the rain. It did, however, hide the tears that escaped from his eyes.

With the sound of the raindrops as my companion I used to fall asleep during those endlessly happy times I’m thinking about those days with tears

4 days had passed since your disappearance and the entire town was thrown into a panic. After you were reported missing, the community came together to look for you.

Jaehyun was summoned to the police station for a witness statement. He wanted to do everything he could to help but his last encounter with you haunted him.

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your voice lingered in his mind.

“You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” his own voice mocked him.

If only he had gone to school with you that day. If only hadn’t chosen a mere 20 minutes of sleep over his best friend. If only he wasn’t late and had noticed you were gone earlier. If only he had immediately called for help.

Such regrets consumed him as the cops around him were busy picking up calls and having emergency meetings. One got away from the chaos long enough to finally take his statement.

“I have here the first communication we had with you on the day of Y/n’s disappearance,” the cop said as he flipped through pages. “You were the last person to see her.”

“I told another officer exactly what happened that day,” Jaehyun’s head hung with guilt.

“Yes, we just need a little more insight into Y/n’s personality and life to fully rule out a couple of scenarios. And maybe retracing your steps could help you remember an important detail.”

“She would never just take off without a word. She’s always been mature and responsible. She’s the one who drags me to school and even left early for the first day because she was so excited for our last year of high school.”

“And you don’t know of any changes or new issues she had?”

“There’s absolutely no possibility of her hiding anything from me. She’s the type of person who just has to share whatever’s going on in her life. She also hates being alone so she wouldn’t wander off by herself. If she wanted to go somewhere, she’d beg me to go with her and if she was planning to go somewhere, she’d brag about it to me.”

He felt hopeless as he watched the older man in front of him write everything down. How would this information be of any use?

“Is there anything that would help identify any traces of her?” the officer asked.

“She has a scar above her collarbone from a surgery. A-And she jokes about how she sheds more than a dog because she always leaves a trail of hair behind. Could a police dog maybe find her through that?”

“I don’t know about that, kid,” he sighed. “We have some stuff we found on the path you two normally take to school. Could you come with me to see if you recognize anything to be her belongings?”

Jaehyun nodded before following him to the evidence room. He felt a chill run down his spine the moment he entered.

He put on gloves and began looking through the items. A broken lipstick. A notebook. A hair pin. A reusable water bottle.

Then he saw it. The bear keychain he gifted you on your first Christmas together.

With a shaky hand, he reached into his pocket to pull out his own matching keychain. He compared it to the dirtied one on the table.

A wave of dread dropped his body to the ground. Before he could hear the cop yell out for help, he lost consciousness.

Jaehyun still had the bear with him every second of every day. It symbolized a lot of things. Seeing it gave him hope. Holding it made him feel like you were still with him. Talking to it eased a tiny bit of the pain in his heart.

He was doing all of it back at the table in front of Jacob and Younghoon. Drunk, of course. His sober self would never let his friends see this vulnerable side of him.

“You’re playing a very cruel joke on me, right?” he chuckled, petting the bear’s head. “Well, the joke’s been running for quite a long time now. It’s not funny anymore. In fact, it never was. But if you come back, I’ll forgive you for it.”

Jacob quietly emptied Jaehyun’s glass into his own. Any more alcohol in his system would certainly cause a scene.

“Or are you mad at me? Did you decide you no longer wanted to be friends?” Jaehyun pouted.

It took every ounce of will in Younghoon to hold back his tears. Jaehyun was the only one who never moved on from that day. He still believed that you were alive.

“If not that, what else could it be?” Jaehyun frowned as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Jaehyun-”

“See that? It’s always Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. No one calls me Hyunjae anymore. How irresponsible of you. You came up with the nickname so you gotta keep it going.”

Younghoon had to step out after that. He didn’t have the confidence to choke back his cries anymore.

He and Jacob also lost you back then. He was closer to you than Jacob was, but the 4 of you were close nonetheless.

Your disappearance took a toll on everybody. Everyone mourned and felt a hole in their lives. But Jaehyun had it the hardest.

He blamed himself and spent a whole year relentlessly searching for you. He was burnt out and devastated by the end of the second consecutive year of grasping for straws. Entering the third year, his coping mechanism switched to convincing himself that you weren’t gone.

The image of the bear keychain swinging off your backpack flashed in front of his eyes every time your name was brought up. And each time, his hand reached inside to squeeze his own bear keychain.

“Not very “best friends forever” of you to leave me hanging like this, Y/n!” Jaehyun’s voice raised, drawing attention from neighboring tables.

Jacob took this as his cue to take him home.

“You think she went to Australia without me? She wanted to go for like years. Maybe she just dropped everything to study abroad there? Or maybe she went to Canada! She loved hearing you talk about Toronto.”

“Let’s get you home, Jaehyun.”

“Call me Hyunjae.”

“Okay, let’s go home, Hyunjae.”

Covered by the traces left by time Will I be able to find the days of my youth? The stars in the night sky that shined on me Are they still in the same place?

A funeral was never held for you. Like Jaehyun, your family refused to believe the worst. They left your room untouched, entering it only to keep the dust from piling over your stuff.

As months went by, the “missing” posters faded in color and nature started taking them down one by one. Your case went cold and your whereabouts remained an unsolved mystery.

Despite all that, Jaehyun persistently went around neighboring areas to put new posters up. Almost all local businesses knew him and had a poster hanging in their store.

Like that, he grew older but your smiling face in the picture didn’t. Your social media accounts stayed the same, offering minimal solace.

He looked through your old posts, reminiscing. His favorite was your most recent one—or rather, your last.

It was a photo dump on Instagram, highlighting your last summer together. The two of you hung out nearly every day. That year, you went to Everland, the beach, and Gyeongju.

Now, he could only bitterly smile at the memories.

The first New Year without you broke a lifelong tradition. Your family and Jaehyun’s family usually spent the holiday together but that year, it was different for obvious reasons. He expected that.

What he didn’t expect, however, was an email from you.

His heart dropped at the sight of your name in his inbox. He had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

“Hi Hyunjae! Wow this is weird and embarrassing. I really hope my future self doesn’t regret this. I scheduled this email to automatically send at midnight. Why? Because I’m a scaredy-cat who can’t bring myself to confess. Everyone around us keeps telling me how painfully obvious it is that we both like each other. Yet I still can’t find the courage to say the words just yet. So this is a time bomb I’ll have to dismantle before the new year comes. If our friends are wrong and you actually don’t have feelings for me, then uh this is awkward. And New Year’s breakfast will be really awkward. If you feel the same way, wear a purple shirt in the morning. If not, wear black. Wear any other color and I’ll kill you for you confusing me.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. He didn’t think that was possible.

Once the initial shock wore off, he completely broke down. The sobbing shook his entire body and his heart physically hurt.

He wore purple on the first of every month since then.

Jaehyun woke up with a throbbing headache. He groaned, kicking himself for the consequences of his own actions.

He dragged himself to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water. He gulped it down in seconds and let out another groan before plopping his torso onto the counter.

After staying like that for a bit, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through pictures. A soft smile rested on his lips as he picked out that week’s highlights to compile into an email.

With 5 photos attached, he began to type out a letter.

“It’s officially been 3 years, Y/n. 3 years without you feels like 30 years. The first year was full of desperation. The second year was when despair started to kick in and I became a little delusional. Even now, by sending you these emails, I convince myself that you’re out there somewhere reading them. Or that they’ll be here for you to catch up on missed times when you come back. All you need to do is come back. Everything is exactly how it was since you disappeared. Your parents keep your room clean and I have all these photos and updates for you to know that not a day went by without me thinking of you. Best friends forever means forever. Forever means I will wait for you until you’re by my side again. I believe that just as much as I’m searching for you, you’re also trying hard to come home. So please don’t give up. I won’t either. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, though sooner is better. I miss you and I love you so so much. I won’t be at peace until I’m able to say it to you in person.”

After hitting “send,” he stared at the suit hanging up. He had left it out in preparation for his internship the next day.

The image of you in your school uniform haunted him each time he saw himself in formal wear. He was aging in the mirror but you remained a student in his memory.

He didn’t get to see you graduate. He didn’t get to see you go to college. He didn’t get to see you get a job.

Time stood still without you. He looked at your pictures every day to make sure your face never became fuzzy.

He was riddled with guilt but made the decision to live to find you and to build a life for you to come back to. He went about his daily routine but at the end of the day, you were the last thought on his mind.

Today was no different.

He pulled himself together to get ready for class. He never missed or was late to school ever since that day.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n,” he smiled at the framed photo of you two before grabbing his things and leaving.

My dreams of my first love are far away now But my heart is still the same The flowing tears are asking me Can’t I go back to those times?

tag list: @wooyoung-a @cloudskyu @bb-fic-rec @junjungsunwoo @karsohn @changmin-wrlds @jwnghyuns

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heisthetypeof · 1 year

Text

─•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•─The digital clock standing across the room was the only source of light in the bedroom. The silence was interrupted once in a while by the squeaky sound of the bed frame when Kihyun was changing his position. It was around 1 AM when you sneaked out of the bed. It was not easy to free yourself from Kihyun's arms. You pulled on the fuzzy socks you received from him along with the silky-smooth set of pajamas.

"Something pretty, for me to enjoy and something thoughtful to keep you warm and healthy." He said with a smirk, sitting comfortably on the couch while you were sitting next to him on the carpet. The Christmas tree in the corner.

You smiled softly at the memory. Ever since then, with each gift you received from him, there was a pair of fuzzy socks. You looked over your shoulder at your sleeping boyfriend before you got up. Slowly, so you would not wake him up. He did not even have the strength to take a shower, just went straight to bed.

It was a rough day for him. Photoshoots, dance classes, hours spent in the studio; recording. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do, even though you felt pretty lonely and needed someone to talk to.

You padded towards the kitchen, leaving the door to your bedroom slightly open. You picked up Kihyun's hoodie that he left in the kitchen and put it over the thin top of your pj's. It smelt more like him than his cologne and you were thankful for it.

You put the kettle on and took your favorite mug out of the cabinet along with your favorite tea that helped your mind slow down. Lately, you were under a lot of pressure and even though Kihyun was always there for you, supporting you like the perfect boyfriend he is, you could not bring yourself to burden him. Especially now, before their comeback.

You opened your diary and started writing as you were waiting for the water to boil. You draw small hearts and dozens of smiley faces. The diary brought back good memories of how you met, but the pleasant feeling of reminiscing did not last long.

A few days ago you saw this TikTok edit with the boys and babies. The way Kihyun reacted to the baby's voice, broke your heart. It was too soon to think about starting a family, but was your relationship serious enough to tell him?

Your mind was clouded with all the possible reactions you could get from him. You did not realize that you were drawing a little family until the kettle started whistling. You jumped off the chair to turn the stove off, so the boiling water would not wake up Kihyun. You took the mug with you to the living room. The plan was to watch a few episodes of your favorite TV series in hope that your brain will get tired and hopefully muster the courage to confess to Kihyun about the tubal ligation.

──•❥◆❥•──

You woke up to the gentle touch on your cheek. The screen of the TV was turned on but it was still dark enough for you to jump away from the person who was crouching in front of you. The nightmare was vivid in your mind.

"Sh… Sh… it's just me, snowflake." Kihyun whispered, getting up when you no longer were trying to scoot away from him. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?" He quizzed, taking the spot next to you. Kihyun grabbed a few pillows and a blanket as he got comfortable.

"I could not sleep, so I made myself a cup of tea and turned on the TV here so I wouldn't wake you up." You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes to get rid of the drowsiness and laid back down, hugging yourself with the blanket that he covered your bare legs with.

"Why are you up?"

"I turned around in the bed and you were not there." He answered, following your suits and resting his head against your thighs. It did not take long for him to start snoring again. You reach down your body to play with his hair as you resume watching the series.

"Telling you this will be one of the most frightening things for me to do." You said softly as you played with his black, greasy hair. "We met under odd circumstances. The beginning of our relationship was not easy and we are still learning how to make it work, but I have always believed that communicating is the key." You scoffed at yourself because here you are talking to your unconscious boyfriend instead of facing the problem while he is not asleep. "I believe that I should have told you this at the very beginning." Your voice began to break. "I can not have kids…" You muttered, squeezing your eyes to prevent the tears from falling. " …and it is not because I was born infertile. It was my decision." You have bitten your tongue.

Now, you only have to say the same thing again when he is awake. You took a moment to admire his face, how at peace he looked. His lips slightly parted, looking so soft and lonely. You felt a bit more courageous so you lent forward, banding in an awkward way to press a kiss against his forehead. "I love you."

The silence was comforting, especially when his arms were wrapped tightly around your thigh. Once again you were left alone with your thoughts, but not for too long.

"I know." Kihyun rubbed his cheek against your thigh as he played with the drawstring of your fuzzy sock.

"I want you, blossom. All of you." His voice is low and husky, startling you. Kihyun's arm tightens its grip around your thigh as he pressed his lips against your skin. "I am confident that you just need more time to grow into that role, with the way you are looking at kids." His eyes remained closed as he drew small hearts against your knee. "You see. I have done a little research about the whole tubal ligation. One out of two hundred women can get pregnant. We can always adopt or not. I see how you are looking at kids and how gentle you are with them. I want that. I want to witness it happening here in our house but if that's not something you do not want we can always get a puppy. They are as clumsy and cute as kids." He chuckled and tilted his head back to look at you.

His look was gentle, filled with love, something you were not expecting to see, as well as you were not prepared to have this conversation right away.

"But you want to have kids. I don't want to take it away from you."

"Blossom, I don't want it to take you away from me. We have never talked about it and it is not like we had the chance to experience what it is like." Kihyun rolled onto his front and crawled up the couch to hover above you. "I am in love with you."

─•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•──•❥◆❥•─

Changkyun

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#he is the type of #heisthetypeof #monsta x #monbebe #kihyun imagines #kihyun fluff #kihyun scenarios #kihyun fanfic #kihyun #kihyun angst

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nancywheeeler · 29 days

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oo so curious abt all of these but how about "and if you don't love me now" and "whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better" ?? good luck on writers block also that shit is EVIL <- currently trying to shake it off rn

writer's block truly is so awful, like why am i staring at a blinking cursor and forgetting every word in the english language, can't it all just be easier. but alas. i hope both of our writer's block clears up soon!!

okay so, a significant aspect of "and if you don't love me now" is in the year of our lord 2024, eddie roundtree's first (and only) solo album goes viral on tik tok. so every scene is connected to a track from that album and there are little multi-media snippets that open each scene. i've had a lot of fun trying to mimic various pop culture and music publications. here's probably my favorite:

track eight: second-place finish “ my love’s a god you don’t believe in / my love’s a house that you don’t sleep in / i know, i know ” Roundtree took his time arriving at his album's thesis statement, but here it is, in time for the finale. The title is depressing in its irony; the singer has lost every two-man race he has competed in over the course of his life, but finally recognizes that even if the winner were to disappear tomorrow, he would not be called up to wear the crown. He had never been in the running in the first place. With a brutal honesty he evades on other tracks, Roundtree determines, “You’re a lover; you just don’t love me.” The brutality is served by how spare the musical arrangement is: a lone but faithful acoustic guitar, reminiscent of an old Townes Van Zandt song. Out of pleas or places to hide, Roundtree is left with only his guitar and his final testament’s fading refrain. He knows, he knows, he knows. — from “We Break Down Every Track on Eddie Roundtree’s Album, Secondhand Sounds” Pitchfork || June 30, 2023

meanwhile, "whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better" is even more sports rpf. background: at the us open in 2022, one of the greatest tennis matches ever was played between carlos alcaraz and jannik sinner. it went until like 3 AM. highly recommend watching it if you have a spare four and a half hours. in this match (spoiler alert), jannik sinner had a match point in the fourth set that he failed convert. carlos alcaraz ended up winning in the fifth set and then went on to win the entire tournament, his first grand slam title at only 19.

so...what would have happened if jannik had converted that match point? coming to a fic near you (hopefully)

“Advantage, Sinner.” The crowd inside Arthur Ashe was screaming, and the noise shook the stadium like a minor earthquake. Carlos had stopped trying to guess where their loyalties lied three hours ago. It seemed to him they weren’t on the side of Jannik Sinner or Carlos Alcaraz anymore, but on the side of the tennis itself, cheering at the end of every hard-fought point not because of who won it but because of the pure magic spun off their rackets. They needed Carlos to save this match point, because of how desperately they wanted more. It was the tennis Carlos dreamed of playing since he was a kid. Tennis that left the world breathless. Tennis, ten years from today, someone would reminisce about to anyone who’d listen. I was there for Alcaraz and Sinner’s US Open quarterfinal. I watched Alcaraz save a match point at the bottom of the fourth set. Mopping the sweat off his face, Carlos readied himself to make it so. Advantage, Sinner, but not for long. Carlos watched Jannik walk back to the baseline, anticipated him blowing on the base of his racket before he brought it to his lips. Already, he knew so much about Jannik, how his body moved, his on-court ticks. How he clenched his jaw with the same ferocity as he clenched his fist when he won a crucial point. How he planted his hands on his hips when he couldn’t believe he had missed. How he never let up, not for a second. Carlos had dreamed of him, too. The greatest players needed a rival, someone who pushed them to their breaking point, then past it. He knew now, if he hadn’t known already, that rival was Jannik.

#ask #my writing #thank you so much for the q and for tagging me!!

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Text

Until Death - Poe Dameron

A/N: I watched The Corpse Bride a few nights ago and remembered this abandoned fic. I was going to wait til it was closer to Halloween, but it is never too soon for a Corpse Bride inspired fic!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x dead!Reader Word Count: 5,675 Synopsis: In the woods outside of his house, Poe discovers a corpse bride and vows to do whatever he can to help her find peace.

TW: death, very minimal body horror

There are many whites in the world. Whites that exemplify love – the white in the eyes of someone in love, the white of freshly fallen snow on Christmas day, the white of a perfectly pure wedding dress.

And then there are the other whites. The empty kind of white. The white of death. It’s found in the ancient tree roots in the heart of long dead forests. It was in the torn wedding dress you wore now, caked with dirt and rot. It was found in the bones of your left arm, the ones beginning to peak through your thinning skin.

These were the whites you were now accustomed to, but occasionally, you let yourself reminisce about the white of the world above. You missed it. You missed every color that wasn’t the cold, dark shades of green and black rot that surrounded the world you were now confined to.

The cavernous room that you awoke in had none of the colors you loved. There were no changing fall leaves of bright red, orange, and yellow to look at out your window. There was no soft, blue blanket laid out on your cold, stone bed. There wasn’t a pair of warm pink lips to wake you each morning.

You were supposed to have been married at this point. Your family had arranged it all – down to the very dress you wore now. They had arranged your marriage to a lord from a neighboring planet. Your family would be brought out of debt and your life was just about to start.

But instead of walking down the aisle, surrounded by your friends and family, onward to your future husband and life, you awoke to find yourself walking down a long and winding staircase until you reached the cold chambers you were now in. Instead of the perfect, bushing bride, your skin was sallow, beginning to turn an inhumane color. Your pure white dress was tattered, stained with an undefinable mess of dark, deadly colors. There was no family or friends, no new husband, no one. You were alone, with only your dress, diamond ring, and memories that helped you clutch at your former life.

You were dead. Moments before your wedding. You would never see the world up above again. You wouldn’t even figure out what happened.

How long you had been in these chambers, you weren’t exactly sure. There was no indication of morning or night and there certainly wasn’t anyone you could ask. For all you know it had been just one extremely long day, but just from the look of your decomposing body, it had to be longer than that.

What you did know was that you had sat in these depressing chambers for a torturous amount of time. You had heard tales of the deceased visiting the living, but you didn’t know how it would even be possible. There was only your bed in the small, dark chambers. Only the bed, and the staircase you walked down when you first arrived.

You had no idea why you even walked down them. It wasn’t like there had been somewhere there to instruct you to do so – you had suddenly awoken and found yourself already in the process of walking into this tomb.

Those stairs had led you away from the world up above. Perhaps, they might be able to take you back as well.

Like every corner of your chambers, the steps were freezing cold. You hardly noticed the cold anymore, considering you were probably just as frigid as it all, but something about the steps sent a little shock through your deteriorating body. You took it as a good sign and took another hesitant step up. For some reason, you took a nervous look around. No one else was down here with you, but you half expected someone to drag you back to your chambers the moment you took a step towards the world up above.

The stairs were much longer than you remembered. Luckily, you didn’t feel exhaustion anymore. You didn’t feel anything anymore, really. After what had to be hundreds of stairs, you arrived at a door at the top. Tall, dark, with steel accents lining the frame, it lurched above you. You reached for the handle slowly, unsure of what you were about to discover.

Although you were always as cold as death, when the sun hit your skin again, you warmed.

A gentle breeze blew against your skin, whipping up the tatters of your wedding dress. You smiled. Above you, there were birds chirping all throughout the verdant forest. The same breeze rustled the fallen leaves around you, dead, but in bright reds and oranges. If you strained your ears, you could hear the sound of voices from far away. The sound of laughter.

You wanted to laugh with them, too. For a moment you took a step towards the sound, but then remembered your place. Remembered who you were.

You looked down at your hands. Your skin was indeed no longer human looking, incredibly pale, with an almost bluish glow to it. The skin on your left arm was beginning to peel away, revealing a pale bone. And your dress, you found, looking down at the once beautiful lace, was in such a sad state you could cry, if you weren’t so happy to be back amongst the living. The once full skirt now had a rip so high that it exposed your upper thigh. The long veil you wore in your tangled hair was now black with muck and a few twigs had quickly entangled themselves into the once intricate pattern.

“Rey! Wait up!”

The voice pulled you from your melancholy thoughts. That voice was much closer than the rest. If your heart could beat, it would be pounding in your chest right now.

You weren’t exactly sure where you had arrived. You were surrounded by thick, tall trees, but they could find their homes on any number of planets – if you were even on a planet at all.

You were among the living again, but you had to remind yourself that you were not like them. You didn’t even know where you were. And although you had heard the stories of the dead visiting the living multiple times, you weren’t sure you would have eagerly invited a corpse into your home. You had to play this out carefully. You would follow the voice, but you would do so from a distance.

You crept through the fallen twigs and leaves towards the voice – voices – you could now hear at least two different ones. A third spoke, startling you at its closeness. Just through the next cluster of trees, you took in a family cabin. Outside were two people, a boy and a girl, and on the porch was an older man. He was handsome, and he smiled at something behind him.

“There he is. I wondered when you’d be joining us,” he said. You peered around the tree, straining to see what had brought a smile to the handsome man’s face.

“I didn’t realize how late I had slept.”

You let out a little gasp, something you hadn’t realized was even possible. The sound scraped against your raw throat, but you didn’t much care. If the old man had been handsome, the one standing next to him was stunning. With tan skin and curly dark hair, he was easily the most attractive man you had ever seen.

“Not to worry, Poe, you deserved the rest.”

“Poe,” you said to yourself quietly.

“Now, how about some breakfast?” the older man asked. You assumed he must be Poe’s father; their similarities impossible to miss. The two people in the yard muttered their agreement and walked back towards the house.

You took the opportunity their absence provided and moved a little to the right, hoping to get a closer look at the house, figure out where you were, and perhaps get a closer look at Poe, too. You heard the door slam shut to the cabin and peered out from behind a tree again.

As you did though, your veil snagged on a tree branch. You tried to hide behind the tree again, worried that Poe, who was still on the porch, would see you, but it wouldn’t budge. You yanked and yanked, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the more you pulled the more it seemed to tangle in the branch. Growing frantic, you started to unpin the veil from your hair. You could leave it behind, but you could not be seen.

As you tried to rip it from your hair, you looked back at the porch. Poe was nowhere to be seen. You let out a sigh of relief. He had gone back inside, and now you had time to untangle yourself properly.

“Can I help?”

You jumped back so suddenly, you unlatched yourself from the branch. You stumbled over another root, though, and fell to the hard forest floor.

“Are you alright?” Poe asked.

“I— I’m fine,” you said, keeping your head down as you tried to move away from him.

“Are you sure?” he asked cautiously. “Is there somewhere I can help you find?”

“No,” you said quickly. Too quickly. This was a time of war, you reminded yourself. Sneaking around Poe’s house, trying to quickly run away from him, didn’t exactly give the impression of a friend. He raised his eyebrow at you in disbelief, so you tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“So, you’re meant to be in the woods?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, again, much too quickly. He looked at you curiously but then let out a gorgeous laugh.

“Well, alright, if that’s the case, I suppose I’ll leave you alone,” he said. You nodded at him and gave him a small smile as he started to take a few steps away from you.

“You have a lovely home, by the way,” you blurted out, practically against your own will. He looked back at you with a grin as you stood.

“Thank you. I kind of got that impression when you were watching it from the forest,” he said.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” he said kindly.

“Oh, good, good.” He nodded and waved a hand over his head as he started to walk back through the woods. You turned around slowly, hoping that just maybe he’d say something else to you. Something to get you to stay.

“Okay, I have to ask. What’s with the dress?” he called. You grinned and turned to face him, still keeping your head amongst the shadows.

“Fashion?” you offered. Poe laughed again. Infectiously.

“Where are you off to? Really?”

You paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer. You had come up here in order to feel again, maybe to find some answers about what happened to you. But now, “I -- I don’t know.”

“Well, I know a few great places, but unfortunately they’re back towards town,” he said. “I’d be happy to show but you seem dead set on going deeper into the forest.”

“Dead set,” you muttered, “Ha.”

“So, what do you say?”

“I’m not much of a people person.”

“Ah, come on, you’re doing just fine with me and I’m people,” he said. You smiled softly and nodded your head. He held out his hand to you, hoping to help you over the branch you had tripped over, that now stood as a threshold between the two of you. The living and the dead. You lifted your hand to his, but quickly pulled it away. If he saw your hand, he would know what you are.

The only reason he hadn’t run away, you told yourself, was because, in the dark light of the forest, he couldn’t see you. Couldn’t see the subtle graying of your skin. He couldn’t see the bone peeking through your vanishing skin. He couldn’t see the rot that had taken hold of your once beautiful veil. If he saw any of this in the light of day, he would no longer be holding out his hand, he would be holding the blaster strapped smartly to his thigh.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you said, taking a step back from him.

“Why not?” he asked gently.

“I can’t leave the woods,” you said weakly. He tilted his head at you in confusion. He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “It just seems that someone like you, wearing that beautiful dress, shouldn’t be hiding in the forest.” If you had any blood left, you would have blushed.

“Well, the forest isn’t all that bad,” you said. “One of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a long time.” He looked around the tall trees surrounding you, as if he had to double-check.

“You’re right,” he said, “I grew up in these forests. They’re quite beautiful. A little haunted, but still beautiful.” You smiled at him, feeling something inside of you that you hadn’t felt since the last time you walked among the living. “But it would still be wrong of me to leave you in these woods alone. Who knows what might be lurking in the shadows.”

“I thought you thought it was beautiful,” you said, lifting your chin at him as he took a step over the branch. A step closer to you.

“I do, but beauty can be deceiving sometimes.” He was getting much closer to you. You wiped the dirt from your face, careful not to tear your weakened skin. “I’m Poe, Poe Dameron.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Just Y/N?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Just Y/N,” you said, and turned away from him.

“So, what does Just Y/N do in these woods?” he asked, catching up with you.

“Truthfully, this is the first time that I’ve been in them.”

“Where are you from, then? If not the woods.”

“You ask a lot of questions,” you said with a laugh.

“You beg a lot of questions.”

“I’m from a place far from here. I was hoping to visit some family,” you said, nervously playing with your hair, “But I’m not too sure they’d be excited to see me.”

“Why is that?” he asked, taking another step closer. As the two of you walked, you tried to keep your distance from him. The closer her got, the clearer he could see you for the corpse that you were.

“I think our parting was painful, and I think I’ve been gone for a long time.”

“You think?” he asked. “Regardless, I’m sure they’d be excited to see you. Especially once they know that you’re getting married.”

“Getting married? I’m not getting married. Why would you think that?” you asked quickly, practically in one breath.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands defensively, “I just assumed because of the dress.”

“Oh, right,” you said, looking down at your ripped skirt, “The wedding dress.”

“Are you sure I can’t take you back into town? You look awfully tired,” he said, touching your shoulder. You pulled away, but he was already pulling back from you, too. “You’re freezing. Come on, we need to get you out of these woods.”

“No, Poe, really, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He frowned at you, making you sigh. “I can’t leave the woods.”

“You can’t stay here forever, you’ll die out here.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What?” he asked, shaking his head. “Night will be here soon. You’ll freeze-”

“To death?” you finished.

“Yes.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Wh—"

“Poe, I can’t die.” He had taken so many spaces back from you that there was now a distance between the two of you. And within that distance, a patch of light shone through the autumnal leaves. “I can’t die,” you said, stepping into the light, “Because I already am dead.”

He truly was one of the nicest men you had ever met. You knew that most who took in your appearance would have turned and run when they first saw you, but Poe remained in place. He gasped as he took you in, but his feet remained planted in place.

“I— I heard stories—“

“Yes, they’re true,” you said, nodding your head.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea. If I had, I never would have asked you back to—"

“Please, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have been watching you. It’s just— this is my first time.”

“First time?”

“Back.” Poe nodded in understanding and sighed.

“How long has it been?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what he was sorry for. It was the typical response when someone died, you just didn’t usually tell it to the person who had died. “How long can you stay?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Well, you shouldn’t spend your first day back in the woods.”

“I can’t go into town, Poe,” you said, shaking your head.

“I know,” he said, holding out his hand again. This time, you took it, still aware of the sallow skin that hung around your boney fingers, but you took it nonetheless. “I think I know where we can go that’s out of sight of anyone, but where you’ll still get to feel the sun on your face.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, giving you another easy smile, “You can trust me.”

Poe led you back through the woods, back to his yard. Everyone must still be inside. He led you over to a ship parked next to the house. You heard a sound from the house and instantly started to run back to the woods, but Poe held tight to your hand. You followed the sound and found an orange and white droid rolling towards the two of you.

“Y/N, this is my good friend, BB-8.” The droid beeped at you somewhat cautiously. “Don’t worry about him,” he said, looking at you, “He’s just a little eager to get off-planet.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s heard terrible stories about dead— a deadly virus, and he’s afraid he’ll get it.” Poe coughed over his words, hoping to hide the real reason BB-8 was scared.

“Well, he doesn’t need to worry, deadly viruses aren’t interested in him.” Poe laughed delicately.

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Come on, this way,” he said, nodding towards a ladder propped up against his ship. He climbed in first and then looked back down at you, smiling in encouragement. “Come on.”

You climbed up the ladder as well, careful not to get your veil stuck on any of the rungs and have another unfortunate mishap. When you reached the top, Poe held out his hand to you. He helped you into the seat behind him before strapping himself back in.

“I didn’t even ask, do you like flying?”

“I— I don’t remember,” you said. For some reason that thought left your voice cracking.

“Well, I guess that’s something we’ll find out right now. You’re in luck, too, because I happen to be the best pilot in the galaxy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

With that, Poe lifted the ship off the ground. Excitement flooded through you where blood should have, and you smiled as his home and the forest grew small. Poe flew the two of you across his planet, until he landed on a small mountain that looked out at the full expanse of the forest and a beautiful, blue lake.

You climbed out from the ship silently, taking the view in before you could even muster an adequate response.

“Do you like it?” Poe asked, dismounting next to you. You only nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said, looking at him.

“Why are you all alone? Shouldn’t there be a corpse groom with you?”

“I told you, I don’t remember anything that happened to me. If there is a corpse groom, I haven’t seen him. I was all alone down there.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you said. Poe hummed to himself, his eyes trailing away from you as he was lost in thought. “What?”

“Well, what you’re describing doesn’t really sound like anything I’ve been told before,” he said. “And there have been rumors of the dead walking these woods, but they always got to leave at some point.”

“What are you saying?”

“There’s nothing you can remember? No unfinished business you have left to do?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I want to help you,” he said.

“You already have,” you said, motioning towards the view. “This sight alone is enough to keep me happy back down . . . there.”

“But what if you could be somewhere else? Somewhere better?”

“I’d like that,” you said cautiously. “But I don’t know—”

“Just, let me look into it at least. Look into you. Maybe if I can figure out what happened to you, I can see if there is anything you were supposed to do before you died.”

“Well,” you said, motioning down at your dress, “There is at least one thing I can think of.”

“Let me take a look,” he said again. He took your cold hand in his warm one and smiled at you. Smiled like you were another human being, just as full of life as he was.

“Okay. If you want to.”

“I want to.”

That night, Poe went over everything you could possibly remember about your life. When the sun set on your day together, he walked you back to those horrible stairs. He was skeptical that you would even be allowed back up, but you figured it was a risk worth taking. Poe had told you all about the hunters that scoured these woods at night, hoping to fight off the dead.

You found yourself back in your empty chambers, on your frigid bed, thinking of the warmth of his smile. You rolled to your side and studied the decaying flowers on your bedside table. They must have been the flowers you were supposed to carry on your wedding day – they had been with you the entire time you were down here.

You thought of the flowers you saw up above and suddenly found yourself envisioning what it would be like to hold those flowers as you walked down the aisle. You envisioned a groom, one with a face you could decipher instead of just shadows. This groom had curly, dark hair and kind eyes. It was those eyes you thought of as you drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound. The voice called you again, and you recognized it, although it was muffled.

“Poe!” you cried back. You raced towards the stairs, moving as fast as your weak legs would carry you. After quite some time, in which you figured Poe would be long gone, you emerged from the stairs and found him waiting in the fallen leaves. “You’re back.”

“Of course I’m back,” he said, holding out his hand. You took it and he helped you step into the forest. “I’ve been up all night, and Y/N, I think I figured it all out.”

“You did? How?”

“Well,” he said, running his hand over the back of his neck nervously, “You’re kind of famous.”

“What?”

Poe led you over to a patch of grass that was still green and sat you down. He pulled out his data pad and opened up a news article.

Y/L/N Family Killed in First Order Attack

“What?” you whispered softly, to yourself. Poe waited patiently while you read through the article. On the day of your wedding, the First Order had bombed the town you lived in. There had only been one survivor – your groom to be.

“According to my sources, your fiancé sold out your family to the First Order. But in showing an iota of mercy towards you, he poisoned you before the bombing started,” he said, his voice weak like it hurt him to do so.

“I don’t understand.”

“Your family was in a lot of debt, right?” Poe asked. You nodded. “When your father couldn’t pay, I think your fiancé sold him out. The First Order has lots of ways of paying, and maybe he owed them—”

“My entire family is gone?” you asked. Poe nodded painfully. “Why am I here? Why am I not with them?”

“I was wondering that, too,” he said quietly, taking the data pad back from you. “I was thinking, maybe if we brought you back to your family, to where they are buried, maybe that would allow your soul to . . . move on.”

“Where are they buried?”

“Felucia. I could take you there—”

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” you whispered.

“I told you. I want to help.” He reached for your hand again. “We can go there now.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

You were silent on the flight over. Poe attempted a few times to strike up a conversation but you didn’t speak much. He wasn’t surprised.

You didn’t make a sound until he descended into Felucia’s atmosphere. The bright reds and greens of the local flora were enough to take the breath of anyone, but for you, when you hadn’t seen any colors since you died, it had to be life changing. Or, death changing.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed.

He landed his ship a mile away from the cemetery. He knew you would appreciate the quiet as you made your way towards your family. The walk over was as silent as the flight, but there was a light in your eyes as you took in all the large flowers and plants.

When the cemetery came into view, Poe took a step back from you. He watched the train of your dress traipse over the ground. The holes in your dress gave a peak of the green and bright yellow spots along the ground.

You stopped at the grave of your parents and dropped to your knees. Poe heard something crack when you did. He stood behind you and let you grieve quietly for a few moments.

“My mom died when I was a kid,” he said, crouching down next to you. You looked up at him. Even though you were dead, your face was alive with emotions, alight with your pain. “I found her in those same woods.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was actually really excited to see her again.”

“Did you help her?”

“My dad did,” he said. “She only spoke to me for a little while.”

“Did you feel better?”

“What?”

“After you spoke to her? Did you feel better, like you had closure?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really,” you said, turning to look back at their graves. “I should be with them. Why am I not with them?”

“I don’t know.”

“They were such wonderful parents,” you said quietly. “They gave me whatever I desired. That’s probably why they were in so much debt.”

“Y/N—”

“But I was going to give it all back to them. By getting married, I was going to bring them out of debt and show them how much I loved them, too.”

“Maybe you need to get married then.”

“What?”

“Maybe, by getting married, you can show them the love and payment you wanted to give back to them.”

“Who would I marry? That jerk who sold out my family to the First Order?”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me. Maybe your body is lingering here because that is the last thing you need to do before you move on.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“I’m asking you,” he said, repositioning himself so that he was on one knee. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“No! Poe, listen. Marriage is until death do us part. Death has parted us already,” you said, motioning to yourself. “It would only work if you were dead, too.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you for offering. You looked back at your family’s grave and let out a sigh.

For the next two weeks, Poe came to see you every day. You talked about your life and your death, and he told you about his days. You discovered that he was a pilot with the Resistance. He told you tales of his battles and close calls, making you feel like you were living the moments yourself.

Every day he told you that he was still working out a solution for your problem, and while you appreciated it, you did not look to hope.

One morning, while you were waiting for him in the woods, Poe came running up towards you. He was out of breath, his forehead glistening with sweat. He was still incredibly gorgeous.

“What is it?”

“I think I’ve figured it out, but you have to trust me.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, panting, but smiling. He motioned behind him and the woman you had seen in his yard earlier stepped forward. You took a step back, panic racing through you. Not once had Poe brought another person to see you.

“Hang on, hang on,” he said softly, taking a step towards you. “This is my friend, Rey. I think we’ve worked out a solution. Just let us explain, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?” Rey asked.

“Will this work?”

“Our window is small, but yes.” She gave you a reassuring smile. You took a moment to compose yourself and then nodded.

“I’m ready.”

Rey lifted her hand and closed her eyes. You waited patiently until you started to feel something. You took in a breath - you were feeling something! You took in a breath!

“Oh my god,” you said, and felt air flow through your lungs. “Rey, you did it.” She grinned at you.

“We should get going. This will only last for a little while.”

“I’m ready.”

A soft song started to play as you took your bouquet of bright pink peonies, purple hyacinths and pure white baby’s breath from Rey. At the end of the aisle, Poe was waiting for you, dressed in his Resistance officer uniform.

You walked down the aisle towards him, smiling. A part of you kind of wished that this wouldn’t work. That you would get married, and would get to stay here with Poe. But one look down at your skin, which had only warmed a little, at the bone still exposed on your arm, you knew this was only temporary. You were going to enjoy the moment while you could, though.

Poe held out his hand to you when you reached him. His smile never left his face. Another one of Poe’s friends, a General Organa, spoke the vows. Poe repeated his first.

“I, Poe, take thee, Y/N, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

“Y/N,” General Organa said.

“I, Y/N, take thee, Poe, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

“Poe, you may kiss your bride.”

He was smiling when he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in the softest of kisses and you were set ablaze. The warmth from his lips, the brush of his hand against your cheek, made you feel more alive than you had in your entire living life. When he broke away he was still smiling, but it was a little strained.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly. You just shook your head to indicate that you didn’t feel any different. He took your hand in his and led you down the aisle. Finn and Rey were there and both smiled at you. Theirs was also painted with a bit of sadness.

Poe led you from your intimate ceremony to a flower field a short walk away. Each step you took weighed you down more and more. It was like the energy was draining from your body with each step, and you knew that you were fading. It was about time to see if Poe’s plan would work.

“Can we sit?” you asked, when your legs couldn’t move an inch more.

“Of course.” He helped you sit down in the flowers. You looked at the bright reds and purples and smiled up at him.

“I know things are almost over,” you said, “But I am so happy. You are such a wonderful person, Poe.”

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” he said, smiling at you sadly. You reached out to brush his cheek. Your hand was freezing against his warm cheek but he didn’t complain.

“I’m just happy we met. The person who gets to marry you for real is going to be so lucky,” you said. Your eyes felt heavy and Poe wrapped an arm around you. You relaxed into his strong arms, leaning back until you were resting in his lap. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he said quietly.

“It feels different this time,” you said. “I feel different. I think I’m going to see them again. I’m going back to my family.” Tears started to slip from your eyes, but you were smiling. “You saved me, Poe. Thank you.”

“Y/N,” he said softly. Your eyes fluttered shut as he took your hand in his. He kissed your fist gently as you drew your last breath. “Goodbye.”

He released your hand and settled them on your stomach. As he looked down at you, tears in his eyes, your body started to deteriorate.

Your skin faded away until it was a dust that lifted away with the breeze that blew through the field. A few moths appeared from the dust cloud and Poe smiled.

He was a widower now. But he didn’t think this pain would linger for long. You were at peace now, that is all that he could hope for. He would have to find some peace of his own.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x you #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #the corpse bride

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mothmage · 3 months

Text

when will she fuck that old woman, huh? equality.

offering you genderswapped/r63 armandaniel porn with plot except it's 2016 and armand is stalking dani at the club and introducing herself as rashda like the little freak she is

Mid-Youth Crisis on AO3

June 5, 2016.

Dani Molloy was post-menopausal, post-divorce, and post-pretending to be heterosexual. So she threw together something reminiscent of her pre-second-marriage butch years, and headed for the bar.

Armand was skulking around New York, observing the girl from a distance. But when the opportunity presented itself, Dani settling herself deliciously on a silver platter, how could she possibly resist?

excerpt below the cut!

Her hands slid up, underneath the hem of Dani’s shirt, and settled over her ribcage, long fingers splayed out over her skin.

Dani gasped; her hands were almost as cold as the metal of her rings. She shivered, but found herself leaning into it. “Your hands are cold,” she said, the whisper lost in the noise.

Are they?

Dani heard the words like an echo in her head, spoken so close to her ear. Rashda pressed her lips there, to the skin below Dani’s jaw, and Dani gasped, arched her back a little. Rashda made a little noise, sounding pleased, and dragged her teeth over Dani’s pulse point, delicately.

Dani shivered, began to wonder if her body might actually catch up to her mind and get aroused. Her mind was already there; had been since she saw Rashda’s fingers drawing patterns in the condensation at the bar.

Rashda spun her around with the music, then reeled her back in, held Dani’s back flush against her chest. “Forgive me,” she said, lips moving against Dani’s ear. She sounded a little breathless, and Dani could feel her chest moving against her back. “I got carried away. You’re very hard to resist, Dani.”

Dani flushed, spun around and settled her hands back against Rashda’s hips. She wanted to call her on the lie, but it died in her throat. She could see how affected the younger woman was; her pupils blown wide and chest heaving. It stroked her ego, a bit. Feeling bold, she licked her lips. “Do you know if this place has a bathroom?”

Rashda stared at her for a moment, then smiled, slow and wide. “Oh, Dani,” she purred. “Come.”

[...]

Rashda brought her to a nice hotel. Like, a really nice hotel. Dani eyed her as they walked in, considering. She wouldn’t have expected a young woman – practically a kid, really, to have that kind of money. Family money, maybe. Dani wondered if Daddy knew she was using his money to bring home old women from bars.

Rashda shot her a look, amused, and took her hand. In the elevator, she brought their hands up to study the ring on Dani’s thumb. She traced her fingertip over it, then down to Dani’s nail. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Dani said, suddenly struck with the desire to press her thumb between Rasdha’s pretty lips, to watch her suck it. She looked away, trying to regain her composure.

“Come,” Rashda said, just before the elevator chimed. She led Dani out into a hallway just as lavish as the lobby below them, then to a door that opened with the quiet tap of a gold card.

Dani raised a brow, but didn’t comment on it. There were shoes by the door, a neat row of sensible and expensive-looking shoes. Rashda stepped out of hers, black leather mules, and walked off towards what looked like a bar.

Dani toed hers off as well, leaving her in socks that thankfully were free of holes. She looked around. The hotel room was huge, with dark wood furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows. It was multi-level, too, with the kind of conversation pit that Dani hadn’t seen in at least twenty years.

She whistled, low and long. Her palms were getting a little sweaty. She walked over to the living area, down the few steps to the right level.

“Real nice room you got here,” she said, wincing even as the words left her mouth. God, she sounded stupid.

“Thank you, Danielle,” Rashda called, from the other side of the room. “Would you like some wine?”

She began to walk over, bare-footed and quiet. There was a look in her eyes, something like intent.

#continuing on my r63 armandaniel agenda #devil's minion #armandaniel #iwtv fanfic #mine #mothmage fic

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thewritingof-therose · 2 years

Note

For the latest ask, either 8 or 9 for IllidanxMaiev… I cannot resist the comfort potential in these :”D

8. things you (Maiev) said when you were crying

The sun was slowly going down, bathing the ruins of the fallen Kaldorei Empire scattered all over the Broken Shore. Far away in the distance, the imposing building of the former Temple of Elune was casting an even bigger shadow over the small island, and over it, the grey and green clouds of the Felstorm were had disappeared long ago.

Instead, Argus, the homeworld of the demons, brought in their sky by Illidan, was looming over them.

Standing in what was left of their headquarters --- after all, once the campaign on the Shore had reached its end, they moved to the Vindicaar to relentlessly attack the foreign planet --- Maiev raised her head and sighed, with a slight shake of her head. She had decided to stay on the Shore to cleanse it from every last demons trying to hide from their wrath, and also because she wanted to stay away from Illidan.

Over the months that had followed his return, she had madly behaved and she was ashamed of herself. If at first she had been rightfully angry that they brought him back to life without talking about it with her first, after a few weeks, her opinions had changed. She kept watching him, but he was surprisingly different from the monster she remembered. He had been nice, obliging, and his job was done. And done well. Yet, he kept proposing weird and dangerous plans, always with a snide remarks and that grin that she wanted to erase from his face.

Which she did at some point, and she was still beating herself over it.

It had been an evening, a little before the attack on the Tomb, and they were partying as a way to reward the adventurers already for their future success. Khadgar's idea. Of course, she showed up as she had to, and she stood there to look down on the plebe and remind them that they haven't won yet. Illidan joined her with a glass of wine and they spent the evening together, reminiscing of their shared past and... what was that? Some kind of flirting? Maiev wasn't so sure, but she had the faint memory of his grin as they stood too close and that he complimented her.

Of course, she ended up drunk --- he probably was too. She couldn't remember exactly what went through her mind. Maybe she did want to erase that grin, but in the end, what mattered was that she grabbed his face and pulled him for a kiss. She felt his grin disappearing as he tried to process what was happening --- was he too surprised that she was kissing him, or was it that she ended up doing it? After all, it wasn't as if they grew closer since his return. They talked more, worked together, and maybe that there was some flirt between them leading to that night. He kissed her back, and Maiev was sure that they made a show of themselves.

Especially once she realized what she was doing.

She pushed him away abruptly and reverted to her Warden self. It wasn't nice to see as she drunkly panicked and insulted him instead of insulting herself. She ran away, and since that day, avoided Illidan as much as she could. There was no way she would be able to face him ever again.

Staying away from him was the best she could do. Yes, it was. With some luck, the more she would repeat it to herself, the easier it'll become to believe it.

And it was with that mindset that she planned to spend the evening on her own --- her Wardens were back to Azsuna --- and she prepared herself for the night. Only to hear footsteps behind her.

Footsteps that were sounding exactly like hooves.

"Hey," Illidan said with a soft voice.

"Hey," she replied, not even looking at him.

She heard the steps getting closer, and she could just feel her presence behind her. It only reminded her why she had been willing to start avoiding him so much. His natural warmth, those tattoos --- always shining bright --- and his body overall. The strong arms that held her from time to time. That grin on his face. A blush took over her cheeks as she remembered the kiss. How close they have been to each other that evening. If she hadn't panicked, what would have happened? Surely something really good.

Instead, her harsh words were the last things she had really said to him.

Making sure that their relationship would actually never evolve from their Warden and Betrayer dynamics.

Her throat dried at that thought. She realized that she would be unable to talk anymore, and the pain was such that she felt tears at the corners of her eyes. At least, it was what she would pretend, that the pain of her throat was making her cry. Not her feelings...

"I need to talk to you," he added. "We will attack Antorus soon."

She just nodded. Of course, he was just there to keep her in touch with their plans against the Legion. They were regularly updating her about those as she demanded it, but it was the first time Illidan was doing it. She couldn't blame him. But she felt tears running down her cheeks as she anticipated what he would have to say. She already knew. He wouldn't stay. As soon as he would get an opportunity, he would leave Azeroth and potentially never come back.

She had eavesdropped on a conversation he had with Khadgar, and she was still unable to know how she had to react at that thought.

"Maiev?"

She had stayed still for too long, without saying a word, and she had no way to stop her tears anymore. It was more than probably a goodbye that she would experience that day, and she wasn't ready for it. Big hands went on her shoulders and Illidan forced her to turn around and face him. Against her will, a sob left her throat and echoed against her helmet, which was the last barrier of dignity she had left. Unfortunately, his hands moved to the side of the protection and slowly removed it.

Doing her best, she tried to stand proud on her feet and face him as an equal despite the tears running down her face. His expression changed to worries, and one of his hands slowly made it's way to her cheek. At soon as it touched her skin, Maiev felt an electric shock and she only cried harder as she had messed up everything.

Yet, she needed those words out.

"I think I love you", she cried out loud.

Her helmet fell to the ground with a loud thump, and his second hand cupped her face and that he pulled her on his lips.

(Follow up with the prompt n°9 in a few days! It'll be a reblog from this post ^^)

#world of warcraft #illidan x maiev #illidan #maiev #fanfic

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nofoundboy · 2 years

Note

could i get some sinclair bros with a reader who's their little brother, and has autism? the brother is quite a bit younger than them (upper teens/early 20s), because lester just kinda picked him up off the side of the road like a soggy cat and he just kinda became part of the family. lester and vincent saw parts of themselves in him and convinced bo to let him stay after they found out he had nowhere else to go

I hope you like this, and please tell me if I got something wrong

You finished serving the cereal for everyone, you had not put the milk, because if they took longer, the cereal would be all soggy.

The first to enter the dining room was Bo, who, still sleepy, mumbled a 'good morning' and got ready for breakfast.

He hadn't woken up in a bad mood, and that relieved you, but you still wanted to wait for the other family members.

Lester came out of the bathroom, smiling and bidding you both good morning, as he gladly sat down to breakfast.

"I'll have to go get Vincent, he won't come up unless he's forced" commented Bo, before finishing.

You heard the footsteps of both of them and the nagging of Bo, who insisted that Vincent should eat breakfast, make it an habit. The sound of Jonesy's little paws followed behind them.

Vincent waved his hand and sat down at the table.

Thanks to you, they had made it a habit to eat breakfast together, something they couldn't remember doing in a long time and yes, as kids they had done it, it definitely hadn't been pleasant.

As you munched your cereal, listening to Lester's absurd jokes and the way the twins tried to stop him in a good mood, the afternoon you arrived at Ambrose came to mind, and how, unbeknownst to you, you would end up finding your family.

You didn't want to reminisce about how you had ended up soaking wet, in the middle of a heavy rain on the side of the road. You concentrated on walking and following the road until you found a town. You didn't know what you would do to earn a bed and food, you would think about that once you reached civilization.

Your limbs ached from your strenuous walk, and the feeling of your clothes clinging to your body was not pleasant. You knew you were going to catch a cold and that added a problem to the equation.

You forced yourself not to collapse and kept walking, until a car honked at the sight of you. You hadn't even paid attention to the sound of the wheels on the wet asphalt, so it took you by surprise that it was so close.

Another of your fears was encountering a dangerous stranger, someone who would take advantage of your helpless state to harm you, and perhaps that's what you had thought at first when you saw the rickety van, as well as the roadkill in the back.

"Are you okay, do you need a ride?" the voice belonged to a young, scruffy looking man with a sincere smile. His concerned tone of voice also seemed honest, but you were still afraid.

You stopped dead in your tracks, as did the van. You didn't quite know what you should do, because although the man didn't seem to have bad intentions, you couldn't trust just anyone.

Or so you thought until you saw the small head of a dog peek out the window and bark willingly at your drenched figure.

You smiled slightly, observing the way the canine sought your attention.

"Her name is Jonesy, she's friendly" commented the man. You turned your attention back to him and decided to climb up.

Of course Lester had no ill intentions with you. Not like with the lost tourists he was taking to his brothers' museum.

You obviously couldn't know it, but seeing you in such a helpless state had brought back many memories of his childhood and adolescence, for despite having parents, he had been left to his own devices from a very young age.

So many times he had been forgotten while it rained, he just couldn't leave you like that. He would have liked to be helped like that.

He also had to think about how to convince Bo to let you stay. He knew Vincent would see something of him in you too, because of your helpless state and the way you treated Jonesy so sweetly, but he wasn't sure what Bo would say, other than flatly refuse.

And when you arrived, he asked you to wait a moment with Jonesy, as he planned to talk to Vincent first so they could convince Bo.

Contrary to what Vincent expected, you were not frightened by his appearance, you were simply curious and too cold, tired and sleepy to be encouraged to be suspicious. You needed the help.

You wouldn't know this either, but the way you hunched over and spoke in whispers brought back a flood of sad memories, why although he had supposedly been his mother's favorite, she hadn't been known for being especially understanding and sweet, someone who encouraged him. Rather, she used to make him miserable by her favoritism and coldness.

"Thank you" you murmured when Lester gave you some juice. Vincent had gone for Bo at the workshop to convince him.

His mind was already planning how to eliminate you, or, if necessary and at the insistence of his brothers, to threaten you so that you would never return.

'He has nowhere to go' Vincent's hands were moving fast, and though the mask covered the expressions of the unbroken half of his face, his eye, identical to his own, told Bo that he really felt bad for the boy and felt he should stay.

Vincent was never particularly demanding other than of himself and his art, but now, Bo understood that his brother was just restraining himself of being more assertive.

And of course it made him angry, but, more importantly, it made him consider the situation beyond his refusal.

Hence, you'll end up as the junior member of the Sinclair family. Bo's protests were just the shield he always had, the facade to disguise the fact that you had changed the Sinclair household for the better, and that, seeing you, taking care of you and being good brothers, they would give you what they didn't have.

#slasher fandom #slashers #slasher headcanons #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #male reader

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writingsofhubris · 2 years

Text

Drabbles - Ch. 15

Ch. 15 - Harding Hooten [AO3] [Ch. 14] [Ch. 16] Rating: E WC: 597 Tags: care taking, domestic Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: Harding was busy, you were hungry, and fuck, you were patient enough for his arms around you that evening. He, however, wasn't.

Tea was set down next to him on the table, Harding’s computer open to a new journal of some new study he’d been waiting to be published. You knew that it had the answer to some question he had in his head, some medical information you couldn’t fathom to comprehend.

You moved to rest against his back, leant down to hug onto his shoulders loosely, your hands loosely lacing in front of his breastbone. Unable to stay still, your fingers moved to Harding’s bowtie, gently tugging it open. He wasn’t at work anymore, and you weren’t going to allow him to stay too buttoned up.

"How was work?"

"Long." You could hear that fatigue in his voice, the hours clear in his voice. Your nimble fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, only opening up the top two for him, allowing him just a slight bit more freedom, a little bit of a winding down.

“Me too,” you replied, simply taking the moments to soak in his warmth. He was warm, and solid, even if he was still working. You pressed a quick kiss to his just bared neck, stealing the most affection possible in the seconds you were able to. “I’m going to reheat that stew, want some?” He sighed softly, leaning back into your body, and more importantly, away from the journal.

“Would you please?” Taking the opportunity, you stole a kiss from him, leaning over him even more. Any excuse to give him moments away from that screen. Your thumb brushed over his jaw, only to see him smile at the action.

“Of course I will.” You pulled away from him, you let your hand drift over his shoulders. It didn’t take too long to heat up dinner for you both, and after a moment of deliberation, you brought him his in the study. If he finished the journal soon, he’d certainly be able to join you later.

The soft tap of the bowl against his desk was reminiscent of the mug from earlier. Your hand moved to his shoulder for balance, then kissed his head once more, intending to leave him to his work. The less you bugged him now, the sooner you’d be able to have him join you later.

Right before your hand left him, Harding’s hand wrapped around your wrist, only to almost jerk you into his lap, arms quickly wrapping around you to hold you on his lap.

“Hi,” you whispered, your free hand rubbing knuckles against his chin for a moment.

“Were you planning on sending me away from the table tonight?”

“I, no…” You shook your head a little, getting caught like this. “I thought you had some work left to do. I’d rather miss dinner with you and have you join me in bed tonight.” His head dipped to offer a press of his lips to your knuckles. Love washed through your body, and your eyes met.

“Go get your bowl, I can read next to you.”

“I think that’s a good deal.”

He helped you off his lap, only to catch you with a slap to your ass. Your eyes narrowed at him, before getting your bowl from the kitchen. His hand was open to you when you returned, tugging you back to his lap, taking the moment to pull his own bowl closer.

Comfortable silence proliferated, and by the time you both ate your fill, you simply curled closer to allow yourself these seconds of intimacy. He might be enjoying his work, but you were enjoying his warmth. And what a warmth it was.

Tags!: @randomfandomtrash28 @emotrash1 @unitedfandomsoftheworld @arandomnerdsblog578 @overlookedfile @yesalwayswelles

#ok not vibing with not being able to tag 2 seperate people now what's going on #Harding Hooten / reader #dr harding hooten #harding hooten x reader #x reader #.W

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orchardisland · 2 years

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━━ 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

Let me tell you the story of one of our unfortunate residents who seems to be a REAL ESTATE AGENT on the island. Fate has assigned this individual guidance from THE LOVERS card. But they needn’t worry, their secrets are safe with me.

DOB: january 13th, 1995 DEFINING TRAITS: devoted, disciplined, ambitious, stubborn, unforgiving, reserved. RESEMBLES: seventeen choi seungcheol (s.coups)

contains: car accident, death

YOU ARE PRESENTED WITH A PRISTINE DECK OF TAROT CARDS. TAKE YOUR PICK.

THE LOVERS

He had never seen anything like the view of the forest. Even though the trees were as tall as the sky, light still managed to seep between the leaves, creating the appearance of transparent draperies. His feet were prickled by the cool air and damp grass. Daehyun looked down and saw that he was just wearing his skin, completely naked, standing alone in a foreign place. He didn't feel chilly at all, even though the wind was gusting against his skin. He moved onward, moving deeper into the forest. He made slow, deliberate steps while scanning the surroundings. Too little noise could be heard. Daehyun couldn't hear a sound when his foot trod on the soft ground's dry stalks and leaves. Animal traces weren't seen everywhere. No birds or four-legged creatures fleeing his proximity make any flattering noises. It was eerily quiet.

The light in front of him guided him to a wide field. He ascended the slope, where a person was waiting at the summit. A slim body with exquisite curves, translucent skin, and silky hair. Although Daehyun couldn't make out the features of her face, she exuded a warm and enticing scent. She extended a hand, and Daehyun accepted it in return by holding it. They took a few steps to reach the top of the hill and looked down at the lush surroundings below. Everywhere he turned, he saw infinite expanses of green grass, and the sky was clear and cloudless. A tranquil brilliant blue reminiscent of the early spring. They stood there silently looking about, hand in hand. It seemed as though the universe was concealing a secret from him while remaining serene and enigmatic.

The woman stared at Daehyun while gently stroking his face; he was still unable to place the faces, but she did seem slightly familiar. It brought him back to a time when he had a lover who had fled the life they had planned. She didn't run away. It was the death that stole her away. Daehyun wiped away a tear that had formed. "I'm always here. Always," She leaned forward and put a hand on the left side of his chest.

“Life is about making choices,” the woman whispered in his ear.

The thing she murmured left Daehyun perplexed. As soon as she became quiet, the wind began to blow, intensifying over time until one blow carried Daehyun off the ground. As he whirled in the air, it appeared as though his limbs were being tugged in all ways. No matter how loud he screamed for help, no one came to save him from the whirlwind. What was up and down started to blur as he floated farther away. Daehyun became uneasy while he was in the air and questioned whether he ever touched the earth again. He had departed from the peak a long way. There was no sign of the mysterious woman. He floated around in the air for a time before feeling the weight of his body. He was drawn down to the ground by gravity slowly but certainly. He was falling to the earth at a rapid clip, as though he were bearing the weight of the universe. There was no sign that he would be raised back to the sky; the forest was directly below him. He screamed, facing the ground.

Daehyun awakens from his sleep, sweating profusely, and wearing the same outfit as last night. He had a loosened tie and wrinkled pants and shirt. His body was facing the ceiling, and all that was left on the ground were his socks and jacket. His rapid breathing causes his chest to rise and fall. His heart was going to burst out of his chest, Daehyun could feel it. With his head spinning, Daehyun forced himself to sit down on the bed. He grunted. A thin, small piece of paper dropped to the ground with a quiet thud. Picking it up, Daehyun placed a tarot card between his fingers. The word "The Lovers" was printed at the very top, and in the middle was an image of a man and woman holding hands. The blue sky was on top, with the green slope in the backdrop. Daehyun feels shivers down his spine. For some reason, he had carried the card back home from the game he was playing during last night's business party. Or, could it be the card followed him home?

THE CARD FLUTTERS TO YOUR FEET. WHO WERE YOU BEFORE THIS STORY BEGAN?

Daehyun stood at the doorway quietly while holding onto the doorknob.

He was pondering on what the doctor had stated earlier. His knee couldn't be healed, unfortunately. The damage was permanent. Daehyun knew that. Even though he had known it all along, he insisted on asking about the idea. Despite having undergone multiple operations and accruing debt, there was no sign of the light shining through to bring him out of this darkness. He had to give up the dream that he had been holding in his hands. Along with losing his chance at becoming a national athlete, he also lost the love of his life. Three years ago, on a cold winter night, a car accident occurred. The vehicle slipped and spun, slamming the curbside.

It made the news with a big headline: A National Taekwondo Athlete Involved In Fatal Car Accident, Passenger Dies.

Although Daehyun was unable to clearly recollect the exact sequence of events, he did remember seeing his wife, the deceased passenger, lying there motionless with bloody wounds covering her head. Weeks had gone by the time he awoke in the hospital, and he had already lost her forever. Broken ribs, brain concussion, and lost memories were the rough scars he sought to heal. His already damaged left knee required further surgeries to save what was left of it, but it would never recover to its ideal state. He was no longer able to ride a bicycle or run. He would wreck his knee by hiking and climbing stairs. Driving a vehicle terrified him the most, so he sold it and now solely rides a motorcycle everywhere. Every year, he went to her grave, shortly bursting his wounded heart until no tears remained. It was hard for him to live in Seoul, so he returned to his parent's home in Gwasuwon.

He began anew after closing the book on the previous chapter of his life. He was now recognized as a friendly real estate agent who is knowledgeable about the neighborhood. As much as his knee would allow, he spent the weekend teaching the basics of taekwondo to the students in elementary school. Daehyun made an effort to live a fulfilling life while trying to suppress his grief over the lost love. Although it could take some time to find someone who could accept him for who he is—a loser—he still had dreams of building a family, eventually.

Daehyun breathed deeply and sighed. With the biggest smile on his face, he turned the door and went inside.

“I’m home! Mom? Dad? Are you here?”

#gsw:accepted

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