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haloud · 3 years

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 6

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: Alex comes home to find his world turned upside down; Max and Isobel struggle to save Michael’s life.

Excerpt:

How close did they come to that chest being stilled forever? The answer was clear, splashed rust-red across Michael’s clothes, and Alex couldn’t stand it, couldn’t reconcile it, couldn’t balance the equation made by Michael this morning and Michael here, now, this.

Alex stood sharp, with a purpose, stood over Michael whose eyes moved rapid behind his lids, Michael who flushed with life but hadn’t lived since being healed, Michael who could so easily be an illusion of hope, snatched away in a second, snuffed out. Jerkily, Alex shot out a hand, then yanked it back, checked over his shoulder for Max or Isobel or—anyone—like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. A touch so innocuous, necessary, even; Michael shouldn’t be forced to rest with dirty clothes; but. Was he allowed? Was the universe watching?

His hands were heavy; purpose and gravity worked on them, yet with a weightless almost-faith they remembered the hill and valley of Michael’s chest, the texture and temperature of his skin, the cartography, topography of loving him and being loved.

Rain pounded the windshield, and pain pounded Alex’s head, from the back of his neck to behind his eyes. He huffed out short relief when he finally turned down his quiet street and settled back against his seat, no longer needing to squint through the panicked flutter of the windshield wipers at the too-bright lights of other cars as he coasted into his driveway. Parked, he rolled his shoulders back and stretched, heavy eyelids opening and shutting, brain ticking over slowly as it tried to marshal signals to his body to get him out of the car and to the door.

Exhaustion didn’t cover the way everything wore on him. Work, other people, the Project hanging over him like Damocles—how much longer could he hold Fields off without an answer before she took drastic action or moved on, maybe even called Flint in? He had a calendar in the drawer by his bed counting down the days to the end of his contract, hidden away so he didn’t have to explain himself when Forrest stayed over. Not that he relished everything about a return to civilian life, a life he’d never lived as an adult…

Even his loved ones wore on him sometimes. Guilt was another chain around his shoulders, from the way he’d ghosted Kyle for weeks, to shooting down offers from Maria to hang out, to letting his morning call with Liz this week slip from a real conversation to a perfunctory text confirmation that Arturo and Rosa were fine. On top of that, he still hadn’t texted Forrest since he landed, and now Alex was avoiding his phone, the tension of expectation he imagined on the other side of the line too much to bear.

And then there was Michael. Brilliant, stubborn Michael, who reminded him without meaning to how wide a gulf he still had to cross to regain his trust, the trust that Alex would always protect him, no matter what.

But—one day at a time. Hour by hour if he had to. Old advice from the counselor he saw after his injury, but no matter how high the papers piled up in his mental inbox (call your therapist), he hadn’t been able to get himself to book a new appointment with a new one, so he’d do what he could, and fall back on the somewhat insufficient tools he had in his outdated toolbox.

And one day at a time meant getting out of his car, carrying his groceries through the rain, and getting in the front door. Okay.

As he turned to leave the car, something moved in his peripheral vision, and he whipped his head around to chase it. Squinting through sheets of rain and twilight-gray haze, he could just make out a dark shape huddled beneath the overhang, but whether it was human, animal, or object, it was impossible to tell. Through the thundering static downpour, Buffy howled behind the door.

Moving slowly, he retrieved his combat knife from the glove box and cracked the door open. The rain rushed up from a rattle to a roar, loud enough to cover the scrape of his boots against concrete and brick as he crept toward the porch. He was soaked cold within moments, blinking water out of his eyes, still and smooth as a cat after decades of conditioning, every muscle locked to avoid tremor. The closer he got, the louder Buffy grew, barking and slamming herself against the door. A few feet closer, and the shape took form—human, definitely human, adult male by size, but whoever it was, they were slumped beside the door, not crouched, not lying in wait, so Alex lowered his knife.

Still creeping closer, he spoke up, “Hey! Do you need help—”

But before he could get out a single word more, the person lifted their head, and—

“Michael?”

Alex bounded forward the last few feet, dropping his knife with a splash, flinging himself to one knee beside Michael’s huddled form, grasping at his sopping clothes, seeking injury, something, anything.

“Michael, what’s wrong? What—”

He tipped his face up and his head lolled back; his breath rattled in his chest. The only color between his ashen face and rain-black hair was an ugly streak of red from the corner of his mouth across his cheek and chin, and a gust of wind blew the storm against them, washing his blood pink, and then it was gone.

“Michael!” Alex repeated, more urgently, frantically. How did this happen? Who could have done this? Alex’s mind shot straight to his own earlier question—how long would Fields let him go without answering. Was this his answer? Tripp’s dog tags hung leaden around his neck. He could choke on them, on the cold tin symbol of his own inaction, even now.

“Max is already on his way,” Michael said, voice breathy and labored, then laughed, a bizarre and throaty caricature of his normal laugh, and his elbow bent robotically to let him tap his temple. “Called him.”

“Why didn’t you go straight to him so he could heal you? Michael? Michael!”

But he was gone; his eyes rolled back to whites, and he slumped strings-cut so Alex almost dove to catch him in his arms; his hand fell from his head to the brick patio and struck the ground with the force of gravity, skinning his knuckles.

It took seconds for Alex to process his shock—seconds Michael might not have to waste, but nonetheless--the rain had his hands slipping on his skin, so Alex held on tighter, clutching Michael’s head to his chest, curling his body around him on the most animal instinct to shield, shelter, protect.

Despite the cold downpour, Michael’s skin was feverish, his breathing bad and worsening, his pulse fast and weak. Bracing his weight on his good leg, Alex pulled Michael over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and stood and unlocked the door.

Buffy’s barking stopped as it swung open; she scrambled around Alex’s feet, pawing at his legs, herding him inside, sniffing at Michael’s fingertips that dangled inches from the ground. Panting, Alex hauled him to the couch and set him down.

Inside, out of the rain, Michael somehow looked worse. His entire front was soaked with blood along with rain; he stank of it, all copper and salt, and bile rose in Alex’s throat. He held his breath and grabbed a towel.

“Gonna ruin your stuff,” Michael rasped. “Gonna ruin…”

Milliseconds before pressing call to figure out how far away Max was, Alex dropped his phone from numb fingers as Michael—there was no word for it, for a second, a heartbeat, Alex lost all faith in his own eyes—as Michael blurred and disappeared and blurred and reappeared a few feet away, whining like a shot doe.

“What the f—Michael!”

“Alex!” Max’s voice bellowed. A fist pounded on the door, shaking the entire frame.

“It’s open!” Alex called back, dropping to the ground beside Michael again and lifting his head into his lap. “Michael,” his voice broke as Max threw the door open. “Michael, what happened? What’s happening?”

His only answer was a babble, words Alex couldn’t understand, words that doubled, tripled in on themselves, moved backwards to forwards and slid out of Alex’s mind the second he heard them, alien, unknowable.

“Michael!” The word wrenched out of Max’s mouth. Buffy paced behind him, whining, letting out a single loud, anxious bark that went unanswered as all the energy in the room funneled toward Michael.

“Hey—[][][][][][][],” Michael said, a horrible, gasping laugh rattling out of his chest.

As the words left his mouth, he groaned and curled in on himself, choking, splattering himself with more blood as it bubbled up between his teeth; then Alex had to strain to hold him still as his back snapped into an arch. Light flashed, then flashed again, and Alex’s logical mind wanted to call it lightning but—but it wasn’t. It came from inside Michael, as all the strength left his muscles and he collapsed, again, limp against Alex. He was so feverishly hot, even for him.

“What the fuck,” Alex whispered. His mind came up blank for anything else to say; his hands tightened, one hand’s nails digging into his bicep, a fistful of bloody shirt in his other. Michael tipped his head to the side, nodding against Alex’s chest.

“Alex,” he croaked.

“I’m here.” To Max, he repeated, “What the fuck? I saw him just a few hours ago, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Max said, reaching out to grab him.

Alex’s hands tightened more, on pure instinct, clutching Michael to his body, but then he forced himself to let him go, to let Max lay hands on him.

Max continued, “I heard him in my head, like he screamed in my ear, and I just—knew he’d be here, somehow. It’s not normal, it’s not—we never hear Michael, he’s always closed off. I don’t know what happened.”

As he spoke, his hands wandered over Michael, across the bloodstains on his chest and neck. His brow furrowed; he moved as if on autopilot, until his hands found purchase on Michael’s temples, and he closed his eyes. Softly, his hands began to glow, and Alex held his breath.

If Max couldn’t fix him…

No. He wouldn’t even entertain the thought for a second, not when his body still tingled with the sense memory of Michael’s living heat. He couldn’t die; it went against nature.

Max grunted, and his exertion pulled Alex back down to earth. He couldn’t do anything for Michael that Max couldn’t right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be helpful. Levering himself to his feet, he headed for the bathroom, Buffy following, barking anxiously. Wrenching open the medicine cabinet, he downed two Tylenol dry to head off the pain in his leg and hip he knew was coming, then from under the sink he snatched a fresh bottle of acetone and marched back to the den.

There, it was something out of a horror movie, rain lashing the windows, lit only by the artificial twilight of an afternoon storm, Michael spread out, skin grey, blood red, Max hunched over him looking half as sick, and Alex thrust the bottle at him.

“Drink,” he ordered, and as Max obeyed, guzzling the acetone, gasping between gulps, Alex returned to where he belonged—at Michael’s other side, holding on to him as if their bodies touching would be enough to keep his spirit tethered to this world—the only world—that is, the world they shared together, rendering all others that may exist utterly meaningless.

As nightmarish a scene as they made, Alex let out a sigh of relief when he clutched Michael’s wrist and felt his pulse strengthen. His eyes moved rapidly under his lids; his breathing was regular.

“It’s working,” Alex said, voice croaking out through a thickened throat.

“I hope,” Max groaned. “His mind is like—it’s like an animal fighting back. I need Isobel, I called her, but I’m afraid if she went in we’d lose her too. I can’t think—” his eyes met Alex’s, terrified. “It has to be Jones. Jones did something, I can’t think of anything else that might have done this.”

Alex could. But he seized on the opportunity to have an enemy he could exact answers from, one that didn’t lie at his own front door.

Absentmindedly, searching for soothing and knowing on a base level where it lived, Alex ran his fingers through Michael’s rain-soaked, sweat-soaked hair, stroking it away from his forehead. Blood was drying in rivulets now on Michael’s face and neck, and Alex followed the path of one with the tip of his finger, from the corner of his eye down his cheek.

How close had he come to losing him? If he’d been stuck in traffic, if he’d stopped for coffee on the way home, would it have been too late?

No. No thinking like that now. Stay in the moment.

“What do you need?” he asked Max, who finished off the acetone and tossed the bottle aside, reaching for Michael again.

“I think I won’t know until Michael wakes up again. If he does. If not…Isobel will be here soon.”

“When you heal, can you feel what it is you’re healing? Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“Sort of?” Max’s hands began to glow again. “I’m healing burst blood vessels—all over his body. Internal scarring, almost like burns, it’s—bizarre.” He shuddered. “What I can feel from his head is separate, and I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Michael shivered in Alex’s arms as Max placed his hands on his head again and filled his body with light, and Alex kept his eyes on Max, watching for any sign he was hitting his limit.

“How’s your heart?” He asked, though the concern flowed bitter and false over his tongue. Even at his coldest, most calculating, he wouldn’t bring himself to sacrifice Max outright, but if Max had to give his life to save Michael’s, would Alex truly stop him?

“I’ll live,” Max replied through gritted teeth.

Over by the door, Buffy rattled off a series of barks, getting louder and louder until the door slammed open. Alex flinched at the sound, hand flying to where his gun would be if he was wearing it, even though he knew with near-certainty who it would be.

“Where is he?” Isobel shouted, red-faced and panting as she rounded the corner into the living room, Buffy jumping and barking at her heels. “Michael!”

“Iz!”

The glow from Max’s hands faded, and he struggled almost to his feet, but Isobel was there before he stood fully, folding him into the hug he was trying to give her. Then Isobel reached for Michael, shoving Alex aside so she could cling to her brother, and Alex went.

She made a strangled noise when he was in her arms, limp and lifeless even after all Max’s effort.

“I’ll get more acetone. Maybe he’ll drink some,” Alex said, using the couch to pull himself to his feet.

Isobel continued to ignore him, but Max grabbed Alex’s wrist and said a quiet thank you as Alex left the siblings alone.

The bathroom door snicked closed behind Alex before he turned the light on, and in the dark he breathed in deep and deliberate until his lungs no longer caught on every inhale against his aching ribs, his galloping heart. He white-knuckled the sides of the sink to keep himself upright until the shaking stopped.

And when he checked all his welds and seams and found himself still watertight, he turned the light on, met his own eyes in the mirror, just once, and got back to business, grabbing the rest of the eight-pack of acetone.

Before he opened the door, his phone buzzed, and he flicked it open. It was a text from Forrest.

Hey! Just got back to the hotel after dinner. Having a great time so far…but I keep thinking I’d have more fun with you here. How’s my girl doing? And how’s my man?

Alex’s thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, lips pressed together, head blank of anything to say. Then, a lump in his throat, he shut it down without replying, and headed back to Michael and the Evanses.

He breathed a little easier when he re-entered the room and was met with a different scene than before. Max and Isobel had Michael laid out on the couch—and Alex’s mind flashed back to the way Michael had disappeared and reappeared and what the fuck was that?—and he rested more peacefully than he had before. Color was coming back to his skin.

Isobel sat on the arm of the couch, stroking Michael’s hair off his forehead, while Max sat on the floor at the other end, back against the couch.

“Thank you, Alex,” Isobel said, acknowledging him for the first time.

Alex acknowledged her back with a nod, as Buffy paced from the couch to the door and back again a few times, finally settling with a whuff against Max, resting her head on his thigh, looking up at him with huge, soft eyes.

“Hey girl,” he said softly, petting her ears.

“How is he?” Alex asked.

“Alive. Sleeping.” Isobel ran her hand across his forehead again. “We’ll see where his mind is when he wakes up.”

Alex sat on the piano bench, folding his hands between his knees. “Max kept saying he’d never felt anything like this before. Can you describe it to me?”

She groaned and rubbed her temples, and Max nudged a bottle of acetone closer to her. “It’s almost like interference, but not. There’s nothing in there that isn’t Michael; he’s not possessed. But it’s like Michael’s been repeated. A thousand different Michaels all shouting at once. He’s quieter now. But…I don’t know.”

Watching Michael’s face, approaching peaceful in an unconsciousness Alex was too fearful to be fooled by, Alex spoke slowly, uncertainly.

“When you discovered you could use telekinesis alongside your other powers, what was that like? Was it spontaneous, or…?”

“Not really? Noah said that we all had the potential for much more than we imagined, and—after—I was so angry, I thought, if Michael can use his anger this way, why not me?” She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “So I wouldn’t call it spontaneous. I could always have done it, I just never thought to, until I did. Like knowing how to swim and learning a new stroke. I was clumsy at it at first, but I was just doing something I already knew how to do in a different way.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Before you both got here, Michael was…”

“He called me. Like your psychic scream, Isobel, except he’s never done that before. And he kept emitting light. While I was healing him,” Max said, looking up at Isobel. “Flashes of light. Not electricity.”

“And before you got here, he—teleported. Only word for it. Something none of you have ever done.”

“What?”

Isobel grabbed Michael’s shoulder tightly, like he might disappear right in front of her, like she could stop him. Max just shook his head silently. He really did look awful, eyes red, dark bruises beneath them, a shakiness to him that hadn’t been there last time Alex saw him, some random Thursday when he brought marshmallows to Michael’s because he’d never actually had a smore that wasn’t made in the microwave. Maybe his condition came down to the rigors of saving someone’s life with your own, but considering how worried Michael had been for weeks, Alex thought not.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, dragging his hands over his face. “None of us know. We’re just talking in circles.”

“I guess we just have to wait for Michael to tell us,” Max said.

“Or we go beat it out of that bearded f—”

“No, Isobel.”

“You can’t keep defending him.” Her voice went high and loud, zero to a hundred. “Look what he’s done! He almost killed Michael, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m not defending him!” Max shot back, wounded. “I’m telling you not to go running off on some half-cocked vengeance scheme when Michael still needs you here! If he’s lost inside his own head somehow, there’s no one who can help him but you. We’ll deal with Jones later, when we know Michael is safe.”

Isobel growled but capitulated.

Not letting any ugly silence settle, Alex got up and said, “I’ll put some coffee on.”

They watched over Michael for all the rest of that evening and into the night, as the storm quieted and the sun set and Michael’s hair dried into a familiar halo of curls. At some point, Isobel brought Alex’s groceries in, half-ruined, and Max made dinner with whatever could be salvaged. While they worked, Alex sat with Michael in a chair pulled up to the couch where he lay, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

They started slowly. He eased up the hem of Michael’s ruined t-shirt with a pinch of fabric, without touching his body at all; he inched it up his back where it rested against the couch, until he ran out of room to work with cloth alone. The shirt bunched around his underarms.

Alex had no choice but to touch, so he did.

His hand still fit the circumference of Michael’s arm, and he lifted it. Michael moved without resistance, idle art in living warmth, velvet skin, liquid veins. Alex moved as if he was as delicate as glass. The second arm was no easier; Alex worked just as tenderly, every inch of his skin lit up with sensation. Leave no trace, like Michael’s body was some untouched scrap of woodland in Alex’s brief custody rather than the sweetly historied path toward home. But that was where Alex was right now, what time and choice made of them.

He pulled the shirt over Michael’s head, and it came away easy in his hands, and he went to his bedroom to get a new one.

The whole thing took less than a minute.

Michael slept on.

“Any change?” Max asked softly, handing Alex a plate of the dinner he’d already forgotten about. Buffy followed him from the kitchen, but she didn’t go after the food, opting for her bed beside the piano, where she continued to watch Max with adoring eyes. He didn’t comment on Michael’s shirt, for which Alex was pathetically grateful. In the kitchen, the water ran as Isobel did the dishes.

“No. Can…you sense any change? Through your bond, or through a handprint?”

“No. Maybe? When I first got here, he took up so much space, metaphorically, psychically, that it was almost hard to breathe. He feels more like himself now. Like he fits inside his body. So that’s probably good.”

“Probably,” Alex agreed.

The water shut off, and Isobel appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m going in,” she said flatly.

“What?” Max asked.

“His head. I’m going in. I need to see what he’s seeing; to try and pull him out. This?” she waved a hand at Michael. “Isn’t normal. Liz died and she wasn’t out this long. I’m going in to get our brother back.”

Take me with you? Alex almost said it, almost begged, as much a violation of trust as it would be to walk Michael’s mind uninvited. But as Max healed his body, as Isobel healed his mind, Alex was helpless to do anything, and he never wore helplessness well. It clawed its way out of him. It destroyed things if he failed to catch it in time.

But he held its leash tight, for now, and gave Isobel an equally tight nod.

“What do you need?”

“Space. No interruptions. It seems like you’ve got enough acetone”—five bottles were still left at the foot of the couch—“so I just need time.”

“You can have the guest bedroom,” Alex agreed.

He and Max carried Michael between them, sharing his weight. Some rearing and needy part of Alex wanted to do the work himself, bundle Michael in his arms and hold him close, but he’d already carried him once today, and Tylenol only went so far. Once he was situated on the bed, Max went to get acetone and water for Isobel.

Weak in the legs, Alex sat beside Michael’s head, never taking his eyes off him. He couldn’t; he wouldn’t. And neither was it a possibility for him to reach out and touch his hair, his forehead, his cheek, so he only watched.

In the door, Isobel cleared her throat. She held both liquids—Max had put them in different-colored cups—and set them on the bedside table before sitting on Michael’s other side.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Alex said, but made no move to go.

After a few seconds, Isobel made a frustrated noise and tossed her hair. “Whatever. You can stay.”

“I—really?”

“It’ll be boring, and if it freaks you out, you can’t interrupt. But yeah.” Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Isobel just held up a hand. “I don’t pretend to understand your weird alien soulmate bullshit. Yours or Max and Liz’s. And I don’t really care what your deal is with Forrest Long, but if you mess my brother around, I’ll end you.”

“I’m not—”

“Again, don’t care. I just know…” she softened. “…I just know how much you mean to Michael. So you can stay.”

Alex swallowed, the lump in his throat too big for him to answer with words, so he nodded, and Isobel nodded back.

“Okay. Starting now.”

Her eyes slipped closed as she lifted Michael’s hand and pressed it between both her own.

The world didn’t change; no power within Alex’s senses rippled between the two of them. Isobel wasn’t wrong to call it boring, as even the uncertain anxiety of what was transpiring in Michael’s head couldn’t keep his attention from wandering. Half an hour in, Max came into the room to stand beside the bed as well, and he clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, an attempt that reassured neither of them. But it was a brother’s touch, and that meant something.

In that room, throughout that silent ordeal, they were family. Alex was part of that family. It was a feeling he had no room on the shelves for; it fit in none of his boxes. He could barely comprehend it, so it sat in the center of the floor, and for a few hours, everything rearranged itself neatly around the new centerpiece of his world, like it was meant to be there all along.

The night deepened on, pain and exhaustion graying Alex’s vision. Discretion and strategy overtaking his determination, he was close to calling it quits and attempting a few hours of sleep when Isobel surfaced, bone white and nose bleeding as Max scrambled to hand her the acetone.

“Did it—”

Max didn’t even finish the sentence before, with a drowning, sucking gasp, Michael followed her out. Alex shouted, elation, shock, fear, everything, as Michael coughed and coughed until a clot of blood dislodged from his throat, guzzling the water that Alex passed him. His bloodshot eyes met Alex’s over the rim of the glass, confused and shocked, and Alex just nodded, trying to say without words everything that…just everything.

Everything.

On Michael’s other side, Isobel was laughing, breathless and triumphant.

“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you,” she wheezed, throwing herself into Michael’s arms.

Michael’s eyes fell shut as he rested his head against hers. “I know,” he rasped in return, but his lips pulled into a smile anyway. “I know.”

“Michael,” Max said weakly.

And Michael replied, “I know.”

Max rounded the bed to fold the both of them into a hug. Alex might have even joined them, if he wasn’t—he realized only now—shaking too badly to move. But in the midst of all the sensory overload, the misfiring nerves electrifying his helpless flesh, one sensation rang true.

Alex’s hands rested on the bed, stiff and motionless, until one of Michael’s crossed that untouched skin, light at first then more firmly, finger atop finger, knuckle nestled into soft palm, and Michael held his hand and gave it a squeeze, and Alex squeezed him back.

#malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #max evans #isobel evans #my fic

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siimjaeyun · 3 years

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Chapter 10: Call of the Cicada

Synopsis: A stranger has been threatening Destructo, a company based in Seoul. As more and more businessmen get attacked on account of swarms of Cicadas, will it lead you to a new mystery and perhaps on a path towards a new relationship with Heeseung?

Series Masterlist

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The man quietly drove home, slowly taking in his surroundings as he approached his destination. Abruptly, a phone call broke through his peace and he quickly picked up.

"I warned you to quit." The raspy voice threatened on the other side of the phone.

"I told you to stop calling me!" He hung up the phone and threw it to his backseat, ignoring yet another blackmail call.

He maintained his attention on the road before him. The first cicada fell onto the front window, and he pushed it aside using the windshield wipers.

“Those cicada things disgust me.” He whispered to himself, and continued his drive home. But his tranquility soon disappeared as more and more cicadas landed on his windows, forming a creature that would engulf both him and the car completely.

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Professor Yin stood at the center of the class, slowly caressing the cicada bug on his index finger; he later placed it back on the mini-tree while planting a kiss on the head.

“Did he just kiss the bug?” Heeseung, who was seated behind you, asked in a quiet voice, before you hummed back, slowly admiring the professor’s good looks.

“The cicada bug is one of earth’s most spectacular creatures, and are well-known for the songs sung by most if not all male cicadas. In their lifetime, cicadas usually will go underground and re-emerge every seventeen years to escape the pollution and disastrous human activity. Isn’t that right Sunoo and Niki?” The professor turned his attention on the two boys in the back of the class bickering over the last bag of snacks in their hands.

“Sunoo. Niki. Are you aware that Nature O’s are manufactured by Destructo, the biggest polluter in both Seoul and the country!” Both boys glanced at one another and looked back at the professor.

“Uh, no, but at least they’re delicious!” Professor Yin rolled his eyes and turned once the bell rang signaling their dismissal.

“Yikes, I swear Professor Yin gets weirder every class.” Sunghoon swung his back over his shoulder and led the way out of the front door.

“Really? I haven’t noticed much.” Jungwon stopped you mid-way allowing you to process your response.

“Of course you haven’t. You’re too busy staring at him.” You punched him lightly in the shoulder and noticed Heeseung with an unclear face.

“What’s so great about Professor Yin anyway?”

“He’s smart, pretty poetic, and good looking.” You quickly said the last part before running off with Sunghoon and Jay to the cafeteria.

“Oh yeah? I wonder how good he would look in my traps!” Jake looked at the boy oddly before running off to catch the rest of his 02 friends.

“Heeseung, are you jealous?” Sunoo asked bluntly.

“J-jealous, what makes you say that.”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little tense, a little-” Niki didn’t get to finish his statement before he choked on a slip of paper in his mouth.

“It’s a note from JK, it says there’s a mystery waiting for us at the city hospital.” Heeseung nodded at him, leading the young trio into the cafeteria before heading off to their next adventure.

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“Please, we all know I’m the visual of the group.” Sunghoon cockily smirked, which earned him a few bickers from the other members as they entered the hospital.

Heeseung stayed back momentarily, patiently waiting as you got off the van and headed to the same entrance. Besides the limited adrenaline in his veins, and the anxiety rushing to his mind and heart, he continued with his mission.

“Hey, y/n.” At the mention of your name, you quickly turned back to see Heeseung standing there.

“I was uh...wondering if you’d like to go on a d-d-d-d-date.” With all his strength, he finally let out the magic words. The question perked your interest and you approached him with a building sense of happiness and excitement.

“A date? You mean it?”

“Yeah, there’s a new trap exhibit in town and I was hoping you’d like to go.” Your peaking excitement calmed itself down, facing the reality of Heeseung’s world.

“You know when you popped the question, I actually thought you meant it.” You crossed your arms and headed inside, feeling slightly guilty with your indirect rejection.

Heeseung caught up with you and kept his thoughts on what you had mentioned to him earlier. In his mind, you loved traps too.

“What happened here Chief?” Jay looked at both Chief Kim and Mayor Lee who were standing at the front door of an operation room.

“Nothing, now go away.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, now go away.” It was clear that Mayor Lee was trying his best to get rid of the pestering group, but ensured to stay strong on the task.

“Are you sure? He’s practically screaming inside the room.” Niki, using his advantage of height, peered over the Chief’s shoulder and saw as one of the nurses used a pair of tweezers to extract a cicada from the nostril from the man.

“You know what happened!? This giant disgusting cicada creature trapped the poor man. Imagine small little creatures crawling over your body, ew…” Chief Kim began to frantically scratch his arms as he confessed to the teen group the truth behind the incident.

“Okay, yes there’s a cicada creature. But! If you have any decency left in your hearts, you will stay out of this. It will be good publicity for the festival on Saturday so don’t meddle with it!” Mayor Lee retreated from the hall at his warning, not exactly prioritizing the well-being of his people.

Later that night, another attack occurred.

Another business man was going through his daily routine, ending the day with a warm night shower. As he moved back his hair, his phone rang, and he picked up while wrapping a towel around his torso.

“I warned you to quit.” The familiar raspy voice rang through the phone, leaving the man to hang up in frustration, preferring to return to his chore.

He entered the comfort of the shower once more, throwing the towel to the side and reaching for the knob to turn back on the water. His efforts were wasted seeing as the knob was turned, but no water exited the shower head. The man peeked closer, attempting to find the solution before a crawling sensation appeared on his left foot. A cicada bug was crawling on it, and as he flicked it away, a swarm escaped from the drain. He too had been consumed.

------

“Try Nature O’s, a proud product of Destructo Company.” Grandma Mimi smiled proudly through the screen holding up the iconic blue and orange printed bag which only permitted for the youngest members to let out a small groan.

“How long are we supposed to wait? Sunghoon and Heeseung left a while ago.” As if the universe had heard him, the said members had signaled to the group to follow them, leading to the room of the latest victim.

“There, there.” A feminine voice was heard from the other side of the door, and Sunoo and Niki looked at each other with wide smiles when they saw Grandma Mimi standing there.

“Oh my, we’re such huge fans!” They shook hands and she responded with a warm smile.

“It’s my pleasure, after all, I must thank Mr.Hughe for making them so popular.”

“You also work at Destructo?” Jake asked.

“I’ll leave you guys to be, take care.” Grandma Mimi left the room with the escort of Sunghoon and Jay who were kind of enough to help her.

“Yes. I had been getting blackmail calls since a few weeks ago to quit my job at Destructo. I didn’t take them seriously and well, now there was a bunch of small...creepy...crawling….disgusting little creatures crawling all over me.” Mr.Hughe entered into a state of hysteria, leaving all of you with no other option than to call the nurse for help. Once he had calmed down, you finally made your ways back home, heading first to the elevator.

“Jungwon, can you press for the lobby?” Jungwon did as told, pressing the small white button. As the elevator moved slowly, and opened, it left them puzzled as their eyesight was met with a dark basement.

“Good going dummy, you pressed the wrong button.”

“I did Jay, look.” Jungwon pressed the button once more and nothing happened. All of them stepped out of the elevator only to have it close them behind and for the lights in the basement to flicker on.

“Listen well, if you don’t stop, you will be next.” All of them ducked down as they heard the warning from the ominous and deep voice. A swarm of cicadas entered the basement, approaching you. You turned your head sideways and Jake with his limited bravery due to his fear of insects, managed to tuck your head into his chest using his jacket.

Once the swarm had disappeared, the elevator doors had opened once more, letting all of you make your way up to the van.

“That was close.” Sunoo opened his school bag to find another cicada bug flying out.

“We have to find who this creature is and fast, otherwise we’ll be next.” Heeseung drove off before coming to an abrupt stop.

“That’s it, why didn’t I think of it before? Who loves cicadas AND hates Destructo, it’s Professor Yin!” He shouted almost too enthusiastically at the thought of him behind bars, but wasn’t willing to admit the slight bias in his accusation.

“You can’t be serious Heeseung.” You crossed your arms and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m with Heeseung on this one. It makes sense.” Sunghoon demonstrated his support which prompted them to go to the school despite your refusal.

Eight bodies stood outside the door, quietly observing as Professor Yin placed the cicadas onto the small tree, taking out a small flute in the process. You and Niki stayed back and watched as Heeseung burst the door wide open with the other five boys following behind.

“Aha, caught you right in the act girlfriend stealer!” Heeseung shouted louder that he would have wished, seeing as all of the boys looked at him and back at the door where you and Niki were.

“What are you talking about?” Professor Yin stood agape and got himself up from his position.

“You’re the cicada monster!” Jungwon’s accusation didn’t settle in considering the next few minutes developed into a massive debate between all of you, with Chief Kim and Mayor Lee arriving into the mix.

“Enough! What is going on?” Mayor Lee broke into a booming voice and claimed a silence into the room.

“He’s the cicada creature! You have to arrest him.” Heeseung pointed once more at the Professor and although it was audible how Mayor Lee asked him to come to the festival at 6PM if he was the creature, it still irritated the poor man.

“I’m not the creature, and if you don’t leave, I’m pressing charges.” All of you exited the room with nothing much accomplished.

“Look, all of you need to quit it.” Mayor Lee pressed his nose bridge as he looked at all of you.

“We don’t have time, it told us that we were next.”

“That’s fantastic,” a foreign glimpse of happiness appeared on Mayor Lee’s face as he continued with his ramble, “all of you can show up at the festival tomorrow and we’ll make sure to have extra photographers! We don’t want you getting hurt for nothing!”

Mayor Lee left with Chief Kim almost immediately, leaving all of you both clueless and lost.

-------

The day of the festival had commenced and all of you approached the fun booths and cicada-themed attractions.

While looking around, you noticed Heeseung approach one of the games: whack a mole.

“Heeseung!” he kept pounding the plastic creatures and tried his best to give no reaction.

“Did you mean what you said yesterday? About me being your girlfriend?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Knowing too well about Heeseung’s struggle with expressing himself, you wrapped your arm around his and turned his face towards you.

“Because if it is, then I’d love to go to the trap exhibit with you later.” He kept his look firm, but couldn’t help a silly grin on his face as he pulled you into a hug.

Both of you pulled away with wide grins, but it didn’t last long when Mayor Lee approached all of you.

“Remember if you see the creature, run here. Got it?” The eight of you made your ways to the other side of the festival, when Niki grabbed your attention while pointing at Professor Yin who was seen entering the haunted house.

“To the haunted house!” Sunoo trailed forward and went in first. None of you were too amazed with the decorations inside. Yet again, all of you were in constant peril at least once a week.

“This is so dumb, what are we, five.” Jake commented as you reached the end. What you didn’t expect was for a wall to appear inclosing all of you inside. The swarm of cicadas appeared and tried to consume you as you broke through the tent finding as escape.

“Guess it wasn’t Professor Yin.” Sunghoon admitted as he saw Professor Yin who was calmly eating as the giant bug chased after him.

“To the van!” With all your might, your tired legs dragged you to the van where Heeseung opened the back door to let the vacuum suck up all the tiny insects.

When the swarm had finally become consumed by the machine in the van, all of you found Grandma Mimi with a white outfit.

“What is going on here?” Chief Kim asked as he looked at Grandma Mimi who was getting her hands tied together by Jay.

“She’s the cicada creature.”

“But why?”

“I’ll tell you why. When I sold my Nature O’s to Destructo, they changed the recipe to have landfill waste. Can you believe it? When I demanded they return to my original recipe, they refused. So when I saw this documentary about using sound to control penguins, I had my plan. I didn’t have penguins, but I did have cicadas. Using my device, I was able to control them. And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you meddling young people!”

Chief Kim escorted her into the car, leaving a frustrated Mayor Lee behind.

“Why can’t anything in this town be real?” He complained and left as well.

“Well, that’s another mystery solved.” Sunoo let out a cheer first, relieved at the solved crisis.

“I’ll have to catch you guys later because y/n and I have a date.” Heeseung proudly announced before swinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you towards the car. As your two bodies started to get further away, with laughs apparent in your conversation, Sunghoon looked at his other friend Jake who had turned away.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, come on.” Jake swallowed the bitter feeling behind him, joining the others in celebration.

------

Next- Chapter 11: Bikers and Jealousy

Tag List: @softkons @nikisboxysmile

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #heeseung imagines #jake imagines #jungwon #niki #sunghoon #jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jay

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piccolini-cuscino · 4 years

Text

Just what I needed.

It’s been a rough day and the prospect of another night worrying about Neil isn’t something you’re looking forward to. Luckily, there’s a surprise in store for you when you get home.

Notes: Another soft!Neil fic! Gif for reasons because we all wish we were that beautiful lady. Enjoy!

The rain fell so hard and so fast that it seemed to dump down on everything. Like the big guy up there was emptying a big old bathtub over a day that you would rather forget. You couldn’t see a thing in the Payne’s grey canvas in front of you except the occasional crimson twinkling taillight up ahead and far beyond the wipers.

You could handle busy days and busy weeks, you told yourself, but a relentless deluge of tasks and a less than productive appraisal ignited your slow burnout into an uncontrollable blaze of anger and frustration. And all that happened before lunch.

Now on your way home, with your knuckles pale as you clutched the wheel for dear life, your thoughts turned to the night ahead. Empty flat, empty bed. No one to call. You had tried, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Like it always did when he left. You wondered if he was traveling; all this talk of moving backwards and forwards had you imagining what was next for him. Probably outer space at this rate. And you missed him.

It had only been six months since you met, but, truth be told, Neil was exactly what you needed. Especially in moments like this. He was always a steady hand on the wheel. Not like you.

Your grey car pulled into the grey car park and you wandered into the grey lobby of the grey building where you lived. Nothing exciting. You did this every day and you never encountered a soul. You weren’t even sure if anyone else actually lived in this soulless monolith. You couldn’t really be sure if you were alive at all, you thought as the grey doors shuttered on the world outside.

And then, in the empty landing outside your flat, a noise. A few crackling bars of Miles Davis trickled out from your door. Finally, you thought, a sign of life.

You slipped your key in the door. Dry mouth. Heart pounding. This could’ve been anything, but you didn’t care. Hope spurred your coat and your loafers off in the hall, and your sleeves rolled up around your elbows as you darted for the kitchen. Following that delicious… smell.

You watched him from the doorway. His back was turned, hunched over the counter; his bright white shirt put the tea towel over his shoulder to shame. There and then you could have cried just from the certainty that he was here and he was ok and that was the only good thing to happen to you that day.

Of course, he sensed it. He turned around wearing a mile-wide grin, enveloping you in the dreamiest, bone-crushing hug you had ever experienced. In spite of his suave demeanour and sharp as a tack dress sense, he was the warmest, kindest human being you had ever met. Painfully perceptive, too. A deep sigh against his chest wasn’t much to go on, but it had Neil holding you out by the shoulders and studying you in a flash. “That sounded like the weight of the world; are you all right?”

“It’s just,” you began, screwing up your eyes and rubbing the bridge of your nose, “it’s been one of those days and now… you’re here and I–“ You paused. Hesitating. Trying to piece together the words to explain. “I was so ready for another night of being worried about you. And now you’re here. In my kitchen. Cooking me dinner.” On the verge of tears, you finally met his gaze. “And it just feels good,” you said with a shrug.

You hadn’t noticed the way his hands moved over your shoulders, trying to work away even the tiniest fraction of tension inside you until silence fell and you couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you. His eyes always looked like cold, hard steel, but now they just swam with concern. The shame of letting yourself unravel in front of him pulled you back to his chest.

Neil swayed in time to the soft music, with you in his arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Can I have some wine first?”

No sooner had you squeaked that sentence out, but Neil had hoisted you up on to the counter. You watched as he uncorked an expensive looking bottle and began pouring, shooting you a naughty smirk.

“Just say when,” he said.

You only stopped him when half the bottle was gone and your glass was full to the brim. Taking your first swig, you could almost feel the worries of the day begin to disappear.

“That’s my girl. In a talking mood now, are we?” he grinned.

“Is that carbonara you’re making?” you asked, watching Neil mix the sauce with the pasta.

“One of your favourites.”

You closed your eyes and smiled, revelling in just how lucky you were. “You remembered.”

“Now, on to your day,” he said.

“Oh, right! I’m just exhausted. And my boss…”

“Do I have to pay him a visit?” Neil asked, pushing his sleeves up a little further.

“And do what? Kill him?”

“Not kill! Don’t be so dramatic!” He shrugged rather awkwardly. “Maybe maim him, or seriously injure him.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Could always quit and join TENET?” he suggested, clasping his fingers together in front of his chest and waggling his eyebrows. “I reckon we’d be a marvellous double act if your hand-eye coordination wasn’t so awful.”

“What your time-travelling superspy organisation? No thank you. Even hearing about your antics is worrying enough.”

Neil wandered over to you and pressed his nose against yours. “Well, what do you suggest?”

His fingertips brushing over your thighs were terribly distracting. And the way his eyes had your heart pounding in your ears made it difficult to spit the words out.

“Hm?” he prodded, just grazing your lips with his.

“I’ve missed you,” was all you could muster.

Neil was an expert at his. The short, chaste kisses. The swift pull away. The way he tugged his lip between his teeth. “I’d ask you to show me, but I guarantee I’ve missed you more.”

#neil tenet x reader #neil tenet #robert pattinson

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siswritesyanderes · 4 years

Note

could you do yandere percy jackson x mortal reader and what would he do if he caught her trying to escape? btw, you are my favorite person on tumblr i'm basically just here for your fics

(Wow, thank you so much!)

Despite the ten days straight you had spent resenting your own lack of demigod reflexes, demigod stamina, and demigod powers, you found, as adrenaline kept you positively frozen with fear before the young man currently shaking a sheet of blood off of his sword, that while human danger responses were disappointing, they weren’t nothing.

You couldn’t outrun him, you couldn’t outfight him, but you could freeze like the best of them.

“This thing doesn’t normally get blood on it,” Percy said, eyeing the bronze blade (you were seeing it as a sword more and more often, now, as your mind adjusted) with something like amusement in his sea green eyes. Beautiful, even as he casually observed aloud that the mundane-looking things he normally stabbed turned to dust afterwards, whereas your cab driver had not.

“He wasn’t a monster,” you said hoarsely, and he turned towards you questioningly, seeming not to have heard what you’d said.

The ten days of captivity in Percy’s apartment had made it clear to you that he was willing to exploit the fact that he could see through the…the “Mist”, and you couldn’t, and to exploit your fear of this fact, now that you knew that any old squirrel could be a three-headed dragon or something, but still it hadn’t occurred to you before now that he might actually kill something that wasn’t a bit more dangerous than it appeared.

There had been a moment, during Percy’s sudden landing of a black pegasus (you saw it as a motorcycle, but you knew it was a pegasus) on the hood of your getaway cab, his crashing through the windshield, and his stabbing of the driver, a moment in which you had even felt foolish for leaving. Sure, you had felt a bit isolated and Percy had been a bit controlling, but look! You had gotten right into a cab with a monster without even knowing! Percy was right.

But now you saw the blood on the blade, and you felt sick. And you had been standing perfectly still ever since he gingerly pulled you out of the back seat.

“He wasn’t a monster,” you repeated, louder but shakier.

Percy shook his hair back from his forehead in that way that you had used to call hot and furrowed his brow a little. There were little red dots all over the right side of his face, where the cab driver’s blood had sprayed. “He was a mortal, but he was taking you from me, which means he was a monster.”

You felt like shuddering, but you were still frozen. There was comfort in being completely still, while Percy capped his pen and shoved it unceremoniously into his pocket. Sunlight glinted off of the streak of silver in his hair.

Hero. Even now, you saw a hero. Even though you couldn’t breathe as he approached you, with his brow still furrowed so seriously.

He wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t.

Percy pulled you into a hug, and it seemed that you could feel every muscle in his body. You relaxed instinctively, even as dread continued to pulse through you.

He had killed the cab driver just because you had asked the man to drive you away. The driver had been doing his job; he hadn’t known anything about you or Percy or monsters.

“I was so worried when I got home and you weren’t there,” Percy said. “So many things could have happened to you.”

You could not outrun him; you knew by now that even if you left while he wasn’t home, he would catch up using a hellhound to follow your scent. If you And now you knew that you couldn’t take a cab, because he would kill the driver. You took a moment to be glad that you hadn’t tried a bus. Tears prickled at your eyes.

“I know it can be boring in the apartment when I’m not there, but you need to trust me when I tell you what’s dangerous.”

You didn’t ask if the cab driver had been dangerous, even though he had said many times that he loved your sarcasm. The question would either anger him or entertain him, and you didn’t want either. You had never actually seen him angry with you, but seeing him angry with monsters had been plenty warning enough.

“Maybe I’ll have to get us a house boat, so I can be sure that you’re not going anywhere.” Only now did he pull back from the hug, though his hands on your sides didn’t allow for too much space to grow between you. He quirked a smile, even though there was still blood on half of his face. “It’d be nice to live on the water, wouldn’t it?”

The tears fell, and Percy leaned in all concerned, his hands flying to your face and his thumbs making windshield wiper movements on your cheeks.

“Hey hey hey, shh, hey, it’s okay,” he said, and he pulled you into his chest again. He smelled like the ocean, of course. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re here with me.” He held you tighter, closer, as he whispered, “I’ve got you, now.”

His hellhound could follow your scent anywhere on earth, and it could travel instantly, using shadows. The seas were even less safe than the land; not even worth considering, since he was the son of Poseidon. The sky? You couldn’t live on an airplane, or even make it onto one, with his track record of catching up.

What was the next plan, then? Outer space? Or find some other demigods who might help?

You had met his friends, briefly, at the very beginning of your relationship. They’d all had glowing praise for him: most powerful demigod I know; nicest guy; so loyal; he’ll never let you down; if you hurt him I’ll…

It sunk in that you had no idea how you would ever escape.

So, you went for a Hail Mary:

“Percy, please,” you said, as he was ushering you onto the pegasus-that-looked-like-a-motorcycle. “Please, I don’t want to go back to the apartment. I can’t stay in the apartment forever.”

“I told you, we’re getting a house boat,” he said wryly, then glanced at what, as far as you were concerned, was the motorcycle’s handlebars and chuckled at something that presumably the pegasus had said. He was lucky he had proved monsters and demigods and magic to be real, before, because at times like these it was easier to assume he was suffering from hallucinations.

“I can’t stay there forever, either,” you insisted. “I have to go places, meet people-”

He brought his face closer to yours, his eyes hard all at once. “You don’t need to meet anyone. As far as you know, anyone you meet could be an empousa.”

He climbed onto the bike behind you and slipped his arms around your midriff.

“Let’s go home. We can bake blue cookies.”

You were so sick of blue cookies.

#male yandere #yandere percy jackson #muggle reader #mortal reader #possessive #obsession #for shame blackjack

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humanityinahandbag · 5 years

Text

good omens: bagged lunch

This summer I volunteered abroad in Israel, and lost all connection to home, and in that time a certain fandom exploded and I missed the beginnings of it. So here I am now. Sauntering vaguely downward into hell with some ideas of my own.

There’s this little idea for post Good Omens that I just can’t seem to shake, wherein Aziraphale (connoisseur of all things delicious and human that he is) would always feel the need to pack Crowley lunches whenever he was off to meetings in Hell, tutting, “Oh Crowley, I know you don’t feel as if eating is essential, but for my sake, dear, can’t you just try to nibble on a biscuit or two? You’re all sinew and wobble!”

And even if he protests, Aziraphale can usually tempt him with promises to pack boiled eggs and tuna and all sorts of smelly things that would disagree with noses. How ghastly and malicious of him, it would be to bring that into a meeting! The Agreement practically begged for this sort of cooperation, didn’t it?

(And tuna is Crowley’s favorite. Especially when Aziraphale remembers to chop up the little cornichons inside and slice it triangularly.)

So Crowley, to appease his Angel, dutifully takes the paper bags handed to him before the both of them venture to their respective places of meeting.

The thing that I can’t make myself quite get over, though?

Aziraphale and Crowley spent so much time swapping notes quietly over duck ponds or trading secrets in three separate rendezvous locations.

Notes are something the Angel has not only acclimated himself with, but they’re something he enjoys. The dangerous side of him wants to send them in lieu of being a spy. The Angelic side of him wants to be caring. The Best Friend/Something More side wants to pour affections. The human side?

Well.

How very human it is to show affection through food and the little notes that such a gesture would also contain!

He always thought it clever when humans sent little messages in lunchboxes! Food and love? At the same time? His heart bursts just thinking about it.

It’s a custom he’d be quick to adopt. Scribbling little messages on bits of scrap paper and tucking them away next to a small bag of sliced apples.

What I’m saying here is;

Aziraphale would 100% send Crowley to Hell with a paper bag lunch and a written note.

And when Crowley is drooping, bored after hour three of a pointless Demon meeting, he’d reach into the little bag as loudly as he could and peel the sandwich out, trying to play it smooth, until the little piece of paper would flutter out unexpectantly into the center.

Hastur would grab at it while Crowley was mid bite into a wonderfully crunchy cornichon'd tuna on white bread.

“Dearest,” the demon would read out loud, squinting at the paper. Crowley froze mid-chew. “Enjoy lunch. I remembered to pack it the way you like. You’re ever so wonderful. Don’t forget to voice all those smart ideas of yours at the meeting. Pick up the laundry. And take off your glasses once to give your eyes a break. Remember the last time you strained them? Heart Heart Heart.” Hastur stared at the note and held it up to Crowley, whose glasses were slipping down his nose. “He drew some flowers, too. Do you want to see?”

Crowley quickly snatched the note away.

Beelzebub, from down at the head of the long table, blinked languidly. “Right,” they said. “So back to our monthly quotas, then?”

Later he’d beseech his Angel not to do something like that again.

“But it’s a human expression of affection,” the Angel protested. “And I don’t see how it ruins your reputation at all, having notes sent down. People pray to the devil all the time. I’m sure his mailbox is brimming.”

“With evil! No one sends him lots of little hearts and flowers.”

Aziraphale would sniff. “Fine,” he’d say. “No more flowers.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale would keep his promise. Next time there was a joke.

It landed in the center of the table when Crowley dragged out a double dark chocolate cookie.

Beelzebub was the one who got to it first, that time.

“Why don’t they play poker in the jungle.” She stood on her chair, reading aloud. Crowley was face first on the table, gently smacking his forehead against a squished bag of deviled eggs.

Ligur piped up, “why, or Lord of Hell!”

Beelzebub turned the paper over, scanning the lilac ink. “Too many cheetazzzz.” It took a moment for collective recognition to kick in. Once it had, they were all doubled over. “I understand! Word play! How drab! Crowley! Tell your Angel to keep zzzending these!” They flipped over the paper again, unfolding a little corner. “Oh. Sorry. Forgot to read; XOXOXOXO - lots of kisses, darling. Eat your vegetables before the cookie.” She looked down to where Crowley was face down on the table, pillowed by squished eggs. “There are pepperzzzzz in that bag,” they glared. “You did not follow the Angelzzz instructions.”

“Got it,” he groaned. “Will do. Next time.”

“I am going to tell him,” said Beelzebub. “Ligur. Write a letter to the Principality Azzzziraphale. Send it through Gabriel. Crowley did not eat his vegetablezzz first.”

“I shall, Lord of Hell.”

Crowley dropped his head to the table.

It only gets worse from there. Because Aziraphale, who often did a lot of people watching from the flat above his shop, began noticing that doting parents would often drew on the paper bags.

And wasn’t that to be a whole other story.

“Look!” A lesser demon held up the bag excitedly. Crowley rubbed his temples. “He drew a picture of them married. Wrote A + C under it and everything!”

“What a gallant gezzzzzture,” said Beelzebub, eyes sparking up new ideas for the Archangel with whom she’d been speaking to for the past few millenium. “Crowley. Pick your head up off the table and gazzzzze upon the mazzzzterpiece your Lover has created for you.”

“No. Thank you. M’good,” Crowley groaned.

“As Lord of the Underworld, I command it! Gaze! And be enthralled!”

The only way the entire situation gets any better, is when Crowley begins to pack lunches for Aziraphale.

Angels, who are attracted to Love like moths to a windshielf wiper, would likely stop an entire meeting just to dote and fawn upon the notes Crowley would send Aziraphale’s way.

“He’s doing this to be spiteful.” True enough. He was. Aziraphale trapped his face between his fingers. “Don’t indulge!”

“Oh, but Principality! He has drawn the most delightful series of hearts upon this paper!” Michael stroked the little bit of torn off notebook paper. “And he has even written you a poem! Shall I read it?”

“No!”

They read it anyway.

Crowley does more than that.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly devilish (or Aziraphale cut him off of wine the night before and how fucking dare he do that - he’ll get his revenge) he’ll send more... risque notes.

With illustrations.

Both of which an angel will find when they lunge for the lunch bag emanating love.

“Principality,” Urial with announce, voice like thunder and wind chimes and vengeance and hope all at once, holding the torn paper up like a flaming sword. “It is foretold by this message that your Demon would like to...” she’d squint at the note, nodding. “flip you like a crepe and smash you to next Armageddon.”

Aziraphale was quietly asking God to smite him.

“Principality,” says Michael, sitting primly at the table. “We should reply.”

There was a nod and murmuring appreciation round the table.

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, quietly, clearing his very dry throat. “I think we’d better not.”

“Nonsense! This note radiates affection. Love! He is a demon who yearns for your forgiveness and heavenly warmth. It is your duty to reply, Aziraphale!”

The next half hour is spent crafting a good note back while Aziraphale begs God to please, if he asks really, really nicely, can’t she just smite him a little?

“Sir!” Urial jumps up triumphantly. “I have found a website on my mobile telephone! It is called urban dictionary!”

“Splendid! What’s it do?”

“It apparently helps craft love letters for Demons! It suggests we write back that Principality Aziraphale would find great joy in seeing Dat Ass in some apple bottomed jeans, sir. And that he’d very much like to bang him like a tamborine, sir.”

“Poetry!” Exclaims Gabriel. “Someone get a pen!”

Aziraphale decides that if God won’t smite him, he may have to smite Crowley when he got home.

#good omens #lunch letters #crowley #aziraphale

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

the opening line

yo so I decided to create a series of one-shots on ao3 based on my own version of season 7. it includes emma, hope, original killian and hopefully some other season 7 characters. there would be some similarities to canon, but a lot of differences. some is based on how I think the show would have went if jen had stayed, some is just how I would have wanted it. if that seems like something you’d vibe with, check it out! this is the first part.

AO3

“This is what you’re going to do,” their mother tells them, standing the two of them side by side. “You’re going to run. You’re not going to look back, you’re not going to stop. You’re going to run and you’re going to get to the wardrobe and hide in there until it’s over.” Henry holds his sister closer, feeling her body trembling through his jacket. Their mother smiles, pride shining in her eyes despite the terror coursing through her veins. “And then you’ll come find us.”

“Mom,” Hope chokes out, tears already running down her young face. Henry’s heart breaks for her, the weight of this destiny far too much for her young shoulders. Not quite the same prophecy as the one their mother faced, but similar enough. Emma presses a kiss to the young girl’s head and looks into the green eyes so like her own. “Mom, I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” she tells her firmly, her eyes looking up to check the sky. They don’t have much time, and Emma knows it, so she makes do with what she can. “You’re my daughter. You’re descended from Queens and warriors and pirates and Saviours.” She grabs both the girl’s shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. “And you’re a survivor, Hope. You and your brother. I don’t trust anyone else the way I trust the two of you, okay?”

Hope opens her mouth to answer, but a clap of thunder stops her, a scream eliciting from her mouth instead.

“We don’t have any time left. Killian and I’ll hold anyone off. You two go. Go!”

Her final order jerks Henry into motion and he grabs his sister’s hand and takes off into the woods, their feet skidding over stones and sticks, their hands barely visible in front of them. The trees seem to have grown and spread over the sky and smoke blocks out the moon and stars. If it wasn’t for Hope’s magic guiding them to the wardrobe, they’d be utterly lost.

Unfortunately, his sister isn’t the only one with magic, and just as they arrive at the tree where the wardrobe has been built, visitors arrive, clad in black velvet cloaks, their hands clawed. There’s a wild, feral look in their eyes and while they look like ordinary young girls, they’re not human. Not anymore.

“Henry,” Hope whispers, her hand tightening around his, the other extending and pulsing with magic. Henry has to smirk, despite everything else. Ready for a fight, that’s her.

But she’s not the one who needs to fight.

“Hope, get in there,” he tells her, drawing his sword.

“But what about-”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he tells her. “Now get in there.”

“I don’t think so,” another voice says behind them. A girl appears at Hope’s side, with a smile both beautiful and dangerous. “Young Hope. You’re coming with us.”

“Over your dead body,” Hope snarls, and the girl flies backwards, far out of sight, into the coming smoke. He sees her grin, savouring her first victory, but another crack of thunder shakes her out of it. Sharing a nod with him, she runs to the wardrobe, her fingers fumbling in her bag, and she pulls out a key.

Just as he hears a click behind him, a gust of wind throws the two of them back, and more importantly, keeping the door shut tightly.

“Hope!” he calls. He just about makes her out, hair whipping wildly across her face. Pushing against the wind, she reaches out and points across the glen, to where another girl stands, her hands raised. “I’ll take care of her. And once I do, you get in.”

“What about you?” she screams above the gust. “I won’t leave you.”

“You’re the one Gothel wants!” he reminds her. “It’s you, Hope. Whatever happens, you get in that wardrobe.” She shakes her head, but they’ve no time to argue. “I’ll be right back, just get in there as soon as you can!”

With that warning, he charges at the girl, sword brandished high. His limbs burn as the wind grows stronger, pushing him back, back, away from her. One foot lands in front of the other, one hand held up in front of his face, and once he’s in front of her, he slashes at her legs. Not enough to kill her, but enough to distract her. The breeze dies down as though it was never there, and the wardrobe opens behind him.

The girl blinks in confusion, pain flashing across her face, and guilt blooms in his chest. None of this is her fault. She’s caught in Gothel’s spell, and both he and Hope know how hard that is to break.

“Henry!” Hope calls. He turns and sees her inside, her face white and her eyes white. “Henry get in here!”

He doesn’t need to be reminded twice. He turns and starts running, his eyes locked on his sister’s face, his body speeding across the forest floor until he’s just steps away from her.

Until something hits his shoulder, and suddenly his cheek is on the ground. He’s vaguely aware of his sister’s anguished screams, but the pain, oh the pain, blocks it out. He reaches up and finds his shoulder wet and his shirt heavy. He doesn’t need to guess what it is.

“Henry!” A pair of legs come out of the wardrobe.

“No, Hope!” The smoke isn’t just above them now, it seeps past the trees and over the ground, already engulfing the other girl. She goes willingly, smiling like she’s been blessed rather than the opposite. He turns back to his sister, her horrified face, and drags himself closer to her. “Hope you need to go now. Close the doors and you’ll escape all of this.”

“But what about you?” she asks. “I was mean to go with you.”

“Change of plans,” he grunts. And despite the searing pain and the darkness taking over his vision, he smiles. “What does our family always do, Hope?” The smoke is upon them now; they have seconds, if even. “What do we do?”

“Find each other,” she says. “But-”

“No buts!” he tells her. “You need to go. For all of us.”

She nods and mouths something before disappearing into the wardrobe, the doors closing and locking behind her.

He’s turned onto his back, and someone’s face is in his vision, demanding to know where his sister is. He knows who it is, and that’s exactly why he spits in her face.

“She got away,” he whispers before she smoke fills his vision and he’s gone.

It’s raining when Henry leaves the couple off at a nightclub, one man holding his jacket over his boyfriend’s head. It’s an intimate gesture, so much so that Henry almost feels bad for looking in on it. He wouldn’t know about that sort of thing, obviously, but he can tell from looking at them. He might not know about relationships, but he knows people.

The boy gives him a tip and tells him to have a good night. He doesn’t respond to that, only thanking him and telling him to be careful before pulling out of the kerb and heading home, windshield wipers batting away against the rain.

At least that was his last one for the night. If only his shift didn’t finish at 11. And if only his apartment wasn’t on the other side of town and he wasn’t battling his way through 50 other Swyft cars, cabs, buses and cyclists. Damn he hates those freaking cyclists.

He keeps his focus on the lights of the car ahead, staring at them even as his head begins to throb. There’s plenty of light here, not just from the cars, but from the street lights and the glow of the clubs and bars and restaurants, the city bright and alive against the dark backdrop. Bright and alive. Those are the two words he keeps in mind as he drives. As long as there’s light, he’s safe.

He parks his car at around 11:30, far later than he likes to be home. In an ideal world he’d be in his bedroom with a good book (and the lamp on) at this point. The street light is still on as he gets out of the car, as is the porchlight on his apartment block. There are little lights all around him, small and flickering and weak, but they’re there.

So why is his skin crawling?

With the collar of his jacket pulled up, he makes his way to the front door, hands stuffed in his pocket. At least the lobby is lit and warmer than outside. The receptionist gives him a half-nod as he walks in, more interesting in her Instagram feed than him. Maybe some people might find that rude, but it suits him fine. The less people involve themselves with him the better.

The elevator is slow as hell and creaks so loudly the whole building hears it and it reeks of something he doesn’t want to know. There’s also dozens of messages scribbled on the walls in marker, ranging from phone numbers to people’s signatures walls to heartbroken, half-drunk rants. Henry can only look straight at the doors if he doesn’t want to read about some teenager failing school or how some pathetic asshole walked out on his baby mom. He gets enough of that from the back of his car.

It grinds to a halt and the doors open to the dim hallway. Henry’s hands clench at his side, sweat trickling slowly down his back. It’s not pitch darkness. It’s not so dark that he can’t see where he’s going. But it’s enough. Enough to make him bolt from the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, the walls blurring into one as he goes. If he could, he’d be grateful that no-one was around to see him, but all he can focus on is getting into his apartment and turning on a light before it happens.

It’s only when he’s there that he feels truly safe

He isn’t scared of the dark. Not in that way. Not in the stupid little kid way, or even the way people his age still are. No, the reason he can’t stand dark rooms and sleeps with a lamp on isn’t because of some horror movie he watched as a kid or some primal fear. It’s because of what happens whenever the lights go off.

It only takes a second of darkness for him to see it; flames leaping up at his side, spreading across the room, surrounding him, almost mocking him in the way they move. Daring him to cross over them. Smoke filling his lungs and clogging his mouth, stopping him from crying out for help. The walls of purple flame rising higher, illuminating a figure opposite him, reaching out their hand, mouth open in a permanent scream. Sometimes, lately more often than not, he hears them calling out his name, desperate and terrified, begging him to do… something. To come save them, he guesses, but he can’t be sure.

Survivor’s guilt. That’s what his therapist calls it. He doesn’t really understand that phrase. How can he feel guilty for surviving a fire that happened when he was a baby? The fire that killed both his parents. According to his file, he was mostly untouched, only a few burns that still show themselves in scars on his arms and chest. Lucky, he’s been told. His parents were less so.

His therapist also reckons the figure he sees must be his mother. And much as he respects her, he silently disagrees. He doesn’t know who it is, but there’s a feeling of protectiveness towards her that he wouldn’t feel towards his mom.

He shakes his head, smacking the side for good measure. He doesn’t like dwelling on that for too long outside the confines of his therapist’s office. That will only lead to a bigger workload for her.

He takes out his dinner-microwavable pasta-from the fridge and sticks it in the microwave, his frayed, overworked brain barely remembering to punch the holes first. He learned that the hard way. With his dinner cooking away, he leans against the wall, running his hand over his face. Behind him, the tap drips incessantly, signalling to him that another day has gone by that his landlord hasn’t fixed it. That makes it day number twenty seven. Adding that to the Internet cutting out on the regular and the heating going out every month, there’s probably a lot that his landlord has done to violate the terms of his contract, but he doesn’t say anything. Yes, this apartment sucks, but he hears that living on the streets is far worse. There’s not many places in the city a Swyft driver can afford.

Well, Swyft driver slash former author.

When he started writing that book, he pictured himself living in a place with a lot more class. At least two bathrooms, for a start. And in a nicer part of town. Maybe with a partner, some dogs. A family of his own, he guesses.

It’s not that his book did badly. At the start it had done quite well; he got emails from fans telling him how much they liked it, it made quite a few top 10 lists and people were initially excited to hear he was planning a sequel.

Only the sequel never came. And excitement died down, his book overshadowed by the next big thing; something about robots in the distant future or something. And he got left behind. There are a few old faithful fans knocking around on Tumblr and once in a blue moon, someone will ask on Twitter about his sequel, but all in all, the literary world doesn’t want him anymore. People have outgrown fairytales, and so outgrown him.

The sequel is still on his laptop. Well, sort of. There’s a blank word document with a blinking cursor, a story he’s tried a hundred times before. He can see it in his mind, the story of a brother and sister fighting against evil, holding onto each other. He knows every detail of these character’s lives, who they love and how, he knows the girl has magic and the boy wields a sword and that an evil witch has a huge interest in the girl and it’s the brother’s job to protect her. He knows these characters like they’re real, like they’re here, know them better than he knows himself and his own life.

He thinks about it all day long, and yet when he sits down he can barely write an opening line. His hand moves of its own accord and opens the laptop, the mouse moving to open the document-

Then his microwave goes off and at that same second there’s a knock at the door.

He wanted a sign from the universe that this story wasn’t worth finishing. The universe gave him two.

“If this is another Mormon,” he mumbles as he makes his way to the door. He does not have any time to talk about the Lord Jesus Christ. As far as he’s concerned, if the Lord Jesus Christ exists then He’s not watching over him.

It’s not a Mormon. It’s a girl, a teenage girl, which ranks slightly below Mormons because at least he gets what a Mormon would be doing at his apartment at this hour.

“Isn’t it a little late?” he asks her. “Do Girl Scouts usually deliver this late?”

“Do I look like a Girl Scout?” she asks, indignance evident in her voice. He’s a little shocked, and a little impressed, so he looks at her properly. He guesses she’s 15, maybe 16, with red-brown hair held back in a loose braid and green eyes. Her clothes are interesting to say the least, her frame hidden beneath a jacket slightly too big for her, the sleeves of a plaid shirt hanging over her hands and the laces on her converse coming undone. There’s something about her face too when she looks at him, equal parts cautious and hopeful, trying not to let one win out over the other.

“Are you Henry Swan?” she asks.

That’s the last thing he expected to hear from her.

“Yeah,” he answers carefully. He’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie before. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Hope,” she tells him. She smiles, and there’s something almost familiar about it. “I’m your sister.”

And then it happens. Without warning, the Earth shifts, the floor is pulled out from under him, gravity fails and he goes plummeting through the air, unable to breath. His whole perspective on himself and who he is and life itself is thrown into the air and turned around completely.

“What?” is all he can say to him. She simply smiles and ducks beneath his arm, letting herself into his apartment.

“I’m kind of hungry, you have any food?” she asks. As though she didn’t just drop the biggest truth bomb on him.

“Woah, kid,” he replies, following her into the kitchen. He finds her standing on her toes to reach the cupboard, her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, and for the brief moment wonders when she last ate. “You just said you’re my…. My sister?”

“Half-sister, if you want to be technical.” She flashes him another smile, her eyes soft and her face glowing. “But we never really bothered about technicalities.”

“O… kay,” he says. “But I don’t…. how?” He doesn’t know if he’s asking her or himself. “You can’t be my sister.”

“Well, I am,” she says firmly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he reasons. He sits down at the table and she does the same, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “How old are you exactly?”

“Sixteen.”

“Ah-ha!” He doesn’t know why exactly he’s so happy about this, but he is, and he points a finger right at her to prove it. Maybe because if she isn’t his sister (which she can’t be) he can go on his normal, mundane life and not have to face any massive alterations. Or disappointments. “You can’t be my sister. Because I’m thirty one-”

“You look it.”

“And,” he interrupts, rolling over her. “My parents are dead. They died when I was a baby. So logically, you can’t be my sister. You see siblings kind of have to share parents. It’s one of the things.”

“Your parents aren’t dead,” she says. She’s so remarkably casual when she’s saying all this that it’s actually infuriating. It might be a game to her, but it’s his life.

“Choose your next words carefully, kid,” he tells her. “Otherwise I’ll be tempted to call security.” There is no security, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay.” To her credit, she sobers up and leans on the table, seriousness creasing her face. It’s strange to see on her. “Your family isn’t dead. They’re just lost.”

“I lost my family?”

“Wasn’t your fault,” she tells him. “There was this curse and everyone got torn apart. You were meant to come with me.”

“Oh, a curse.” He throws his hands up and leans back in his chair. He should have known. “Kid, I’ve read that book. I wrote that book.”

“You mean this book?” She takes a copy out of her bag and slides it across the table. It’s small and bound in brown leather, the words Once Upon A Time written across the cover. It’s his all right, even if for some reason his name isn’t on it. Nothing is, no publisher, no author’s note. Just his story.

“So you’re a fan?”

“Henry,” she says strongly. Again, there’s something so unsettlingly familiar about her saying his name. “This is our story. Our family’s, our parents.” She taps the cover. “It’s all in here. It all happened to you.”

“Nothing in this happened to me,” he says, dropping the book on the table. He pushes himself away from the table and as he does so, his shoulder twinges. The suddenness of it hurts just as much as the pain. He grits his teeth and grabs the edge of the counter, breathing slowly and steadily until it subsides. He always manages to forget about this until it flares up again.

“Are you okay?” she asks, running up to his side, her eyes wide.

“Fine,” he grunts, rolling it around for good measure. “Shoulder pain. Therapist reckons I got it when I was a baby. The night my parents…” He shakes his head at himself. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“Because we’re family?” There’s a strange look in her eye as she looks at his shoulder, something he can’t place.

“Stop that,” he sighs. He turns to face her, the two of them in stony silence. The most logical explanation is that she liked his book and got obsessed with it. So obsessed she wanted to meet the recluse author. That happens; fan culture has gone crazy these days. But there’s something about her, something about the familiarity of her face, her smile, her voice.

No, that’s insane. Maybe they ran into each other at one point at a book signing back in the day. But nothing else. She’s nothing to him and really, he’s nothing to her.

Still, she’s just a kid, and her parents are probably worried sick. And there’s all kinds of creeps on public trains and buses at this hour.

He’s going to regret this. So much.

“Where do you live?” he asks. “I can take you home, explain all this to your parents. Say it was all a misunderstanding and listen to them ground you.”

“You’ll come home with me?” she asks. Elated is almost too weak a word for her face. Her hands are clasped together in front of her face, her eyes shining.

“I’ll take you home,” he corrects her. She nods anyway, the smile on her face breathless and joyful. It almost makes him feel something. Empathy, maybe. Which is odd since he’s not the empathetic type. “Where’s home?”

“Hyperion Heights,” she replies. Oh, great. Hyperion Heights is at least a forty minute drive from here. After getting her home and explaining whatever he’s going to explain to her parents it’ll probably be around 2am when he gets back.

Besides, he’d be driving in the dark then. Pitch darkness. That’s not ideal at the best of times but especially when he’s driving.

“Is that an issue?” she asks with an audacious false-earnestness. She planned this so well that he’s almost impressed. He’s be more so if he wasn’t so annoyed with her.

“Stay here for tonight,” he sighs. Just as she brightens up, he points his finger at her, squaring up. “But we are leaving here at 6am sharp to take you back to your parents. Deal?”

“Deal.” She holds her hand out to him. He glares at her for a second but shakes it all the same. “Oh, can I use your bathroom?”

This kid has some nerve. And he supposes he’s not much better for going along with it.

“Sure. Down the hall first door on your right.”

She grins and turns to go. He watches her, kind of fascinated. Despite the annoyance, he wonders what her home life is like. If she’s in school and does she do okay there. If she has friends. If she’s happy. Why she liked his book so much. If she’s okay. He’s not one to judge but those clothes don’t look new and the way she wolfed down that cereal has him on edge.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asks.

“Hope,” she says proudly. “Hope Hermione Swan.”

“I like the middle name,” he snorts.

“You would,” she tells him. “You chose it after all.”

Then she skips off to the bathroom, leaving him scratching his head. An hour ago he was an orphan and a loner, now he apparently has a while family trapped cursed in another neighbourhood, living under an hour away from him without him knowing. A sister he apparently helped name. It’s crazy. She’s crazy. And he’s even crazier for going along with this crap. A long-lost sister showing up on an orphan’s doorstep and telling him he has a family. It’s ridiculous.

Although… he turns back to where he left his laptop, the blank first chapter still sitting there. It’s not a bad opener for a story.

He puts the laptop in his backpack. Just in case.

#ouat ff #ouat #cygnet believer #hope swan jones #henry mills #oh wow I'm making a commitment #it's a casual one #it's not a multichap so there's no pressure #i'll just write+post when I feel like it #also technically it's the second part of this series but who's counting?

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chickennoodlesoupfortae · 4 years

Text

Angles deserve to die

A/N- ahahhahaha its gone for a month author rats. I missed my page so im back and with an update on that piece i said i was going to post last august.

Summary- People would like to think of the higher beings as ethical and moral in all their actions but sometimes even they get bored. Yoongi is assigned a task by the overlord to see how far love could push a mortal. Jimin is tasked the same by the “good” side to see if love can save the souls of those vulnerable. What happens when you’re caught in the crossfires of a cosmic bet.

Word count- 2.8k

Warnings- Since it is based on a higher being religion is under defamation and question.

Namjoon sat babysitting a drink next to the lord of the underworld. “I don’t get what you’re getting at Jungkook. Why should we care about the mortals and their thoughts. Our job is to get them to believe what they have and then let them wander around till they disappear.”

“That’s so boring though.” the god groaned chugging the rest of his drink. “All I’m saying is that we’ve been doing this for them for the past hundred thousand years and I’m bored out of my mind.”

“You’re bored out of your mind. You get the interesting souls. I have to talk to the “good” people. Do you know how many different types of gods I have to pose as so they don’t freak out.” he swirled the liquid inside the cup.

“You choose to do them. When we were choosing what we’d do your words were,” Jungkook began to laugh. The small room was dark and gloomy only filled by the two of them and a maiden who came and occasionally refilled their glasses. It was warm and dry inside making it uncomfortable but the two had gotten use to it as the year melted together.

“Don’t say it” the god warned

“ ‘I believe that these savages can be good and therefore I want to lead their souls into a better place’” he imitated his partner in the afterlife scam “Well look how that turned out. You still get shitty people but they pretend to be better than the ones you send “down under”.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes “What’s with that right? I mean who thought of one, the word hell and two, that it would be down. You literally work ten miles away from me.”

“Stupid humans I guess.” his hand shoot up beckoning for the maiden who appeared next to him within seconds. “Yes dear can I get another one of these please with an extra shot of vodka” his head turned away from the servant “So back to what I was saying oh heavenly one. As I was “punishing” my run of the mill serial killers, as one does. I thought. ‘Now why do these humans love to hurt each other?’ Me being a god and all, determined quickly that it was emotion.”

“And?” he rolled his eyes listening to the devil himself.

“What if we sent one of your angels and one of my demons to try and see what would happen.”

“How would that work the human would have two people pressuring it and we wouldn’t be able to see the results clearly.”

“What if we sent them in disguise as one of them and see who the human chooses emotionally and how far it would go.”

Namjoon finished his drink thinking the proposal through. It had been years since he visited the mortal world and seeing clones of the same personality pass through his office was getting boring. “We need to set goals and a prize.” The devil's eyes lit up with excitement Joon had only seen when he realised his first plague.

“My goal is for the human to kill itself.” he responded

Namjoon choked on air as he heard Jungkook’s suggestion. “That seems awfully cruel.”

“I am satan no?” he joked “It doesn’t matter if your sides gonna win right?”

Again “the savior” of humanity looked for the answers in the room eyes blanking on a wall. “Fine but my goal is the same. The human must end it’s own life in a selfless way.”

“Oh that’s interesting Namjoon.” his head raised at the use of his real name.

“Yes Jungkook it is, but this is an interesting game we’re playing.” he replied with the use of his real name. There names were used mostly by their own angels and demons but rarely between the two “If I win we get to switch positions for the next millenia.”

“And if I win you have to do both jobs for the next century and I live a life amongst the people showing them what bad really is.” he extended his hand. Namjoon grabbed it feeling a slight burn on impact.

“Deal.”

Yoongi’s eyes opened and he groaned. “So we’re doing this again.” he asked himself at the realization he was still alive or better phrased not alive but still working. He stood up in the overly large dimly lit room walking over to the closet to start his daily routine. Everyday he followed the same actions. Closet, clothes, brushing his teeth, and going to the court to hear whatever sob stories his clients had. One would assume that a demon in charge of the highest cases in the land of the heartless would have an exciting life but after tens of thousands of years it became a bit tedious. He put on a white tee shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. To call it business casual he threw on a plane black blazer. Looking in the mirror he checked his figure giving himself a smile. He walked closer to the mirror examining his black hair patting down a couple fly aways. His eyes were cold and dead. Perfect for his profession. He stepped back looking at himself one last time before opening the door and saying goodbye to his penthouse apartment in the nicest district of the bad side.

The elevator as always remained pack for all seventy levels stopping at every other floor. It was quite fitting to what was called hell in the mortal world. Finally at the lobby he walked out of the building into the cloudy atmosphere. His car was parked in a no parking zone and ten tickets stuck out of his window wipers that he had never bothered to take out. He smiled at the sight of a boot on his black luxury vehicle. His favorite hobby was seeing how angry the meter maid would get watching him zap off the boot and burn the tickets. He was waiting for there to be fifteen tickets so he could beat his record. He stepped into the small sleek car and like every morning rode in silence to the office.

Jimin’s eyes fluttered open a small smile already present on his soft face. He stood up slightly yawning slipping his feet into the slippers that found a home beside his king size bed. He walked through his large bedroom to the closet. The room was bright due to thee light coming in from the open window. Everyday Jimin did the same thing enjoying the routine it gave him. “Hey baby can you get me a cup of coffee?” he asked his “girlfriend” grabbing a button up white shirt out of the full closet.

“Sure thing.” she responded from another part of the house. He walked into the bathroom examining his face. For an angel he fit the description, a clear skin smile reflecting back. His hair was a platinum blonde almost gray shade which matched his outfit. Although loving the style of white he wore a dark metal watch on his wrist and a black necklace. He checked his figure smiling and leaving his all white bathroom.

“Here’s your coffee dear.” A tall woman stood in front of him handing him a to go cup. In the “next world” as the highest liked to call it, there was no such thing as love. “Girlfriend” was a term coined by the demons which slowly traveled to the good side for a companion. Although there were no genders in the next world the beings could choose what they presented as and most of the time it was a mortal form some resembling women and other men and some just balls of light. A “girlfriend” here just meant a companion to give support.

“Thank you.” he gave her a small peck and left the townhouse he owned in the best district of the good side. What Jimin did was different than most angels. Most were tasked to help the souls fade and give them hope while his was to defend the good side from the souls trying to get in. It was a stressful job but it kept him busy. He walked to his white car. The vehicle shined brightly in the sun parked neatly in front of his house. He drove to the office with the windows open letting the air flow through.

“Min Yoongi?” his office telephone paged. He groaned looking at the old fashioned piece of technology, now only used in his profession. His hand slowly raised pressing the intercom button.

“Yes?” he asked annoyed.

“Sir, the CEO seeks your presence upstairs.” he threw his head back at the static sound that now filled his office.

“Tell him I’ll be up.”

It wasn’t a bad day but he hated meeting with his boss. His position was the highest next to the CEO meaning he didn’t interact with anyone except his clients, secretary, and occasionally his doorman and he loved it that way. He let out a loud groan walking outside his office and to the elevator. He got inside the cabin pressing level one hundred. As he passed each floor he pressed the numbers making it so by the time he got to his floor the elevator would stop at every level.

The doors opened to the dry and hot office of the CEO. He strolled out of the elevator clearly unamused by being called here.

“Yoongi what a pleasure to see you again.” Jungkook smiled sitting behind his desk in the almost dark office. All the blinds were down and the room was empty except for the servant he always had on hand for drinks.

“What do you want?” he asked tired already of the interaction.

“Do want anything to drink?” the god asked

“No.” he responded

“I don’t know why I love my alcohol so much. To us highers it has no effect but I guess I’ve always loved the burn.” he let out a dry laugh.

“So why did you call me up here satan.” he stated blandly

“I hate that name. Where do they come up with these names?” he took a long sip from his glass before placing it down and changing his demeanor. “I have a job for you.”

Jimin smiled at his client giving her a box of tissues. “Yes, I know this must be a lot for you honey. You made it! You’re on the goodside. Why don’t you go with Jan and she’ll explain this all to you.”

The soul nodded her head and walked out with the assistant selected for her case. Jimin let out a sigh of relief as his first case of the day walked out.

“Park Jimin?” he heard is telecom go off. He pressed the button to speak.

“Yes?” he responded

“The CEO needs you.”

“Thank you for telling me.” he stood up and walked to the elevator pressing the up button. He looked over at his secretary.

“Did he mention what he needs me for?” he asked her kindly

“No sir. He just said he needed to see you.” she smiled at him.

“Oh that’s unfortunate. The weathers been quite nice lately hasn’t it.” he politely conversed with her.

“Yes, the light has been shining lately. I heard it’s cloudy on the other side though.” she added

“What a shame. I hope it gets brighter.” the elevator opened “Well I’ll be back soon hopefully.” he waved while pressing the hundredth floor.

The doors opened into the bright room surrounded by windows and chairs. The god stood looking out of one of the farther one. The windows gave a perfect view onto the bustling city of the good side. Cars drove through the streets and angels walked on the sidewalks. The god wasn’t looking at the city though. He looked beyond it to the fields of grasing souls waiting to fade away.

“Hi Namjoon what can I do for you?” he asked walking to stand beside him

“I have a job for you.” he sighed still looking forward.

“I’m sorry what do you want me to do JK?” he asked now more interested than he had been before. Jungkook slide the file across his desk to the side of the chair yoongi was sitting in.

“Here’s her case buddy. (y/n) she was especially chosen by me and mr. sunshine.”

Yoongi sat up to grab the manilla folder. He looked at the picture of the mortal girl and began to read her file. “What about her though? She seems pretty average to me.” he continued to scan the transcript.

“You see I knew you were the man for the job. Ms. (y/l/n) is a perfect example of a decent human being, she isn't good but she isn’t bad. She would get into the other side but she wouldn’t become an angel. She’s the perfect example of a vulnerable soul.”

“I still don’t get why you want me to seduce her into being bad.” he asked closing the file and sliding it back.

“I don’t want you to make her bad. I just want you to make her lose herself. Drive her insane make her you know?” he elaborated overcome with joy.

“No Jungkook I don’t know.” the demon responded the red in his eyes flaring up for the first time in months.

“To end it all. I want you to make an example of her. If you can get her to go insane then I’ll win my bet.” he stated smiling and leaning back into his chair.

“You’re doing this as a bet. That seems especially cruel even for you.” Yoongi cracked a smile starting to get convinced.

“I mean I’m sure it’ll be fun for you too. You’ll get a break from routine and free reign on a mortal. All I need you to do is to take her life and what she knows and flip it upside down, make her emotions overcome her and lead her to dumb descisions. If you think seducing her will do it than go ahead.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” he sighed standing up.

“This seems like a bad idea.” Jimin pleaded to his superior.

“I know but if I don’t win then they will and that’s worse.”

“Why would you make a wager like this.” the angel pleaded feeling defeated knowing he would have to go through with it. He was looking through the file. “She’s so average. She doesn’t deserve this. She would be a normal soul on this side. What if I can’t convince her and the other side wins?” he was rambling but surprisingly at a loose for words in his mind

“I don’t know Jimin but I trust that you’ll be able to sway her in the right direction.”

“I still don’t understand what I need to do.” he ruffled through the papers in the file.

“You need to find this girl and get her to change and,” he paused disappointed in his part of the deal. “ give the ultimate sacrifice for another.”

Jimin’s head shot up “The what?” he was in denial “You want me to get her to kill herself for someone else how is that...I don’t.” he couldn’t bring the words in his mind to come out.

“I know but in a selfless way. Like a mother dying for her child or a firefighter saving a person from a fire.” the god walked away from the windows and sat down at his desk.

“I can’t do this.” Jimin threw the file up in the air, letting the papers fall around him.

“You have too.” Namjoon stated giving him the watch. Every angel knew of the watch but very few ever saw it. The small timepiece allowed for highers such as angels, demons, and gods to visit the mortal world. He took the time piece and left the office.

Yoongi stood in his empty apartment packing a suitcase filling it with his most casual clothes. He looked back into the home and twisted the watch's dial transporting him to the mortal world.

Jimin went home and packed a bag filled with his clothes. He forgot about his “girlfriend” until she stopped him at the door. At almost all times angels were expected to be kind beings above drama and emotions but this was a rare occasion. “Get out of my home. I won’t be back for awhile and I thought the new trend of companionship would be for me but it wasn’t so I expect you to be gone.” he moved her aside and left his home. On his porch he turned the dial on the watch transporting him to the mortal realm.

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arazialotis · 4 years

Text

Tortured Souls

“I lost count of how many souls.” He said with tears in his eyes. “The things I did to them…”

Word Count: Around 2500

Summary: Years after Dean escaped Hell, the past comes back to haunt him.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and torture

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Beta’d and influenced by the beautiful mind of @misguidedconqueress

----

“I lost count of how many souls.” He said with tears in his eyes. “The things I did to them…”

*** 5 Years Later ***

Sam and Dean had finished a run-of-the-mill hunt. As they ate at an unremarkable bar with mediocre food and lukewarm beer, they sat in silence. They had nothing noteworthy to say and having known each other for so long, any small talk at this point was redundant. The waves of gray skies rolled into dark clouds. Thunder rattled the wooden floors.

Sam cleared his throat and nodded his head in the direction behind Dean. A woman had been intently staring at them for the past 15 minutes or so. Dean took the cue. After finishing a bite and wiping his mouth, he made his way up to the bar for more drinks. While waiting for the beers to be served, he casually let his eyes roam the area where she was sitting.

She was the only thing unordinary in this dull place. Her lips were painted the color of mulled wine and a long gold chain plunged below her deep neckline. The few drops of rain caught in her hair made the false appearance of a glimmering halo. But it was her eyes that haunted Dean the most. The same look he saw every time he glanced in the mirror. Something deeper swimming behind flesh.

She never broke eye contact with him. If the warning tugging at him was familiarity, he couldn’t place it. Almost as if nature magnetically repelled him, he headed back to his table instead of making a pass at her. He handed Sam his drink and shrugged his shoulders.

By the time they had satisfied themselves, the storm was winding down; the rolls of thunder already faded out. Dean fished out a few twenties and laid them on the table before taking a final scan of the room. The girl was nowhere in sight. With nothing else on the agenda, it was time to move on.

Dean met Sam in the car. He started her up, but before pulling out onto the open road. He scanned the channels filled with static until something caught his mood. Dean didn’t know if they were headed home or to another case, so he simply started driving down the main road until Sam would undoubtedly come in hot with an opinion. The wipers streaked across the windshield, making a noise comparable to nails on a chalkboard. It was time for new ones.

Sam was browsing the web on his phone but was distracted when Dean nudged him to look towards his right. The girl from the bar was stranded on the shoulder of the road, helplessly looking into the hood of a smoking car. Sam sighed his discontent but Dean ignored it, pulling over to offer their assistance.

The car door on Dean’s side creaked open and then slammed shut. His words were muffled from the inside of the car as Sam patiently loaded his gun, keeping an eye on his brother. He went to join them. As his door clicked shut, a surreal force threw him against the hood of the car. His head collided against metal. His hand grabbed the side of the door, but his weight dragged him down. Something sharp and warm grew at the top of his scalp. While he fought to keep his eyes open, the light began to dim before he dipped into unconsciousness.

Dean was quick to the draw, you his target. But before he could shout demands or orders, his gun flew from his hand and his feet were swept out from under him. The breath left his lungs. Immediately, you were there, pinning him as a lioness would her prey.

As Dean struggled you purred. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember your first?” Your eyes flashed a thick, inky black. Dean’s brow furrowed. “I’m here to repay the favor.” Your eyes cleared, and seeing them up close the truth was unavoidable.

***

Hell. The place that was indescribable. To call it grimy, muggy, dark, or grim was useless. Any adjective was futile. Any hope was futile. But that was where Dean had once found himself. For thirty years. Tortured, impaled, left to a bloody heaping mess of nothing. And he resisted any escape from the pain. Until now.

In his cell resembling a coal mine, too dark to see the blood and rot on the floor. His arms were stretched so far apart it felt like one more twist of the metal rack would rip his body in two. His chest heaved, hearing wails from nearby cells. Any clink, clang, or shuffle outside his cell caused his heart to race, tears to form in his eyes, and beads of blood-filled sweat to trickle out of his shirtless back.

The door creaked open and in walked the man he knew so well. Although he was no man. He was the monster of monsters. Alastair.

“Well, well, well Dean.” Alastair mocked as he snapped on latex gloves. “Looks like we’ve got quite the agenda for you today.”

Dean’s lip trembled.

“Shall we being with the molars or the plantar tendon?” He asked. “I always love giving choices.” He gleamed.

A single tear slid down Dean’s cheek as he uttered the next words. “I’ll do it.” He shook.

Alastair dropped a shiny metallic device, attempting to not look surprised.

“Whatever you want.” Dean continued. “Please.”

Alastair chuckled. “My, isn’t this a happy day. A student becomes a teacher.”

Dean hung his head low.

“I should warn you though, once you get off the rack, there is no getting back on. Or should I say, you’ll never choose to do so.”

Dean felt the chains lax.

Alastair’s finger tapped on his chin. “Now who should I pair you with…” He paused to think. “It’s not like we’re short on new arrivals. But I find for beginners, compatibility is important.”

With the chains no longer holding his weight, Dean fell to the floor.

“Rest for now Dean,” Alastair instructed. “I’ll be back soon with your first assignment.”

Dean curled up into a ball, his knees to his chest. He shook. For once not from fear or pain. But relief. For a few precious moments of peace. But as Alastair promised, it did not last for long.

By the time he had returned, Dean had pulled his way up from the floor and onto a stone bench carved out from the matching dark wall. He had been allowed to wash, to have fresh clothes. He sat with his elbows to his knees, his hands folded in between. He couldn’t think. He had to turn it off. For what he was about to do… His hands went to his head, pulling at his hair to escape the thought.

Keys clanked at Dean’s cell. His heart raced, and sweat began to pour as if it was all a joke. But Alastair entered, smiling as a proud father would. Two men with a bull ring where eyes should be entered with a starved little thing in between. She was blindfolded and dressed in little else but a sack. She dragged her feet in protest. She must be new, Dean thought, to still have some fight left in her. The men threw her to the ground where she scrambled into a corner and started to shiver.

“Tie her up Dean,” Alastair instructed.

Bile rose up in Dean’s throat. He saw himself walking over but his body refused to budge.

“Oh, and Dean?” Alastair commented. “If I sense any hesitation or pity, I’ll ensure to walk you through the procedure step by step.” He paused. “With twice the force.”

Dean had no choice. He told himself he was doing this girl a favor. If Alastair had his way with her, it’d be much worse. He closed his eyes, turning it off once more. He walked over to the corner and grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the rack, drowning out your pleas for help. One by one, he secured each limb into the chain bearings before straightening up. He curled his fist.

Alastair spoke up, relaxed against the wall, watching what was to become his protégé. “I want you to see her eyes.”

Dean gulped but did not disobey. He reached the top of the blindfold and pulled down to gaze upon the most beautiful and innocent eyes he had ever seen. Still filled with life. Sparkling like a pool of fresh-water drowning out the fire around him. And for a moment Dean had forgotten he was in hell.

“Please.” You begged. “There’s been a mistake. I don’t belong here. Help me.”

Dean closed his eyes and pinched his lips. Alastair’s patience was wavering and almost intervened until he noticed Dean’s fist tighten.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered so lowly you could barely read the words from his lips. Dean met your eyes again and loud enough for Alastair to hear, he resentfully grunted. “That’s what we all say.” Before striking a devastating blow to your ribs.

***

Months, years had passed. There was no way to tell. And the man you had known as Dean had grown harder, crueler, and more heartless. With each visit, the black void in his eyes grew. In the beginning, pain had been fast and swift. Resetting each day. But recently he favored the pain to be longer, more drawn out. He’d infect wounds, the intensity growing each passing day. Or the times he pretended to let you escape. You finally stopped trying after the seventh attempt. But by far the worst was when he got sick of your screams and let the starved rats finish the job. You hated the rats.

Holding onto whatever humanity you had left in you was just as painful. Your memory faltered. What you once remembered was almost all but lost. You mumbled to yourself while he was away or if you were permitted to rest, what you could see in your mind.

He came in with a single razor blade one session, interrupting your babbling. You quickly shut your mouth as he grabbed your chin, eyeing you with disgust.

“You know I hate it when your hair gets too long.” He spat at you before forcing your head down.

Your eyes teared as strings of hair landed by your bare feet. Each stroke was finished with the slice of the razor until blood began to cover the pieces of fallen hair. His hand left your body, and you heard the clink of the razor being set down.

You thought he had left, that was your mistake. You continued your pattern. Your mother’s name, your father’s name, your brother’s.

A fist came harshly against your jaw. You hung low from the blow, only being supported by the chains. You spit out a tooth and let the blood drain down your chin. He grabbed your entire face in the palm of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes. Out of all your time in hell, you’d never seen such fire.

“Who told you to say that!?” He demanded.

Your brows furrowed, confused by what could he have meant. His patience was thin. He grabbed hold of your ear, forcing your head to follow. If he had the strength, he might as well rip it off with his bare hands. “Are you hard of hearing me, bitch? Answer me!” He let go.

“Nobody!” You screamed back.

He wasn’t satisfied. “Where the fuck did you get those names?”

You began to cry, fearing how he might use them against you. It was the only thing you had left. Another blow came to your cheek. You caved too easily but it was only a matter of time. Time that he had endless amounts of.

Your lips trembled as you spoke their names. “My mother… Mary. My father… John.” You wailed. “And my little brother Sam.” You choked. He was speechless. “Do you have family Dean? Do you remember your family? My Sammy. My little Sam. When I last saw him, I tried to cut his hair… he always wore it too long… Just like you think of me.”

He shook his head. “Liar!”

“I swear! What else do I have to lose?” You pitifully reasoned.

He went to the wall of tools. “You have no idea…” He muttered, picking up a golden fish hook and securing black wire to the loop at the end.

"Dean please!" You pleaded. "I see it in your eyes, you're not one of them yet. You have to fight back! What would you tell your family if they saw you now? Who was your family Dean? Remember!"

His jaw was strained, clenching his teeth so hard you could almost hear them crack. He refused to answer you. He grabbed your bottom lip, pulling it outward and it became apparent what he was about to do.

You pulled against your restraints. "Dean. Please. No. I'm sorry! Please! I won’t speak again."

"This'll teach you about lies." He muttered piercing your bottom lip, numb to your cries, and pulled the string through, repeating the stitching fashion.

***Present day***

You had waited so long for your revenge. Put up with more than he could begin to imagine. Climbing the ranks. Clawing your way out. And finally, his throat was in your hands.

“Sam.” He gasped, calling for his brother, unbeknownst to you.

“How dare you say that name to me!” You spat as if he was trying to find your humanity that had long since burned away.

“Y/N.” He said, clawing at your grip. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t deserve this!” You shrieked back. Your free hand went to the sky, nails sharpened like razor claws ready to attack.

“None of us did.” He whispered.

You shook your head, faltering. He looked nothing now like the monster you had known.

Cold metal slapped down hard against your wrist. You twisted to meet your attacker.

“Sam, no!” Dean yelled.

He stopped with the angel blade, raised ready to strike. Sam looked to Dean in confusion. Dean scrambled up from underneath you. Sam instead pinned you against the car. You attempted to disapparate but were stuck inside the flesh. You tried, again and again with no use, screaming in frustration. Sam locked your other hand in place and from the corner of your eye, you saw Dean appearing with a black bag.

You squirmed underneath Sam’s frame but whatever magic they had used on you rendered you completely powerless.

Your world went black as fabric covered your eyes, but Dean’s voice rang in your ears. “I’m so sorry, I truly am.”

You’d not go so easily, but without your abilities, they overpowered you. You wrestled as both men grabbed you and placed you in the truck of the car. It smelled of black licorice and gunpowder. As if your world hadn’t been dark enough, the closing of the trunk threw you into total blackness. You screamed and twisted, kicking at the hood of the trunk. You could barely hear the creaks of the doors or the roar of the engine over your own howls.

Inside the cabin, Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then back to the trunk as the wails of profanity failed to cease.

“You bring earplugs?” Dean joshed at Sam, hoping to avoid any further interrogation.

“Mind filling me in?” Sam pressed.

Dean started down the open road, his destination now clearly laid before him. The bunker. He bit the side of his cheek before answering. “Call it... repenting of past sins.”

----

Tags:

Forever Lovelies: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke@deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @blushingokoye@sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider@winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @spnbaby-67 @iwriteaboutdean @cigsandpie @curedean @monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants @thisismysecrethappyplace @onceuponathreetwoone

DeanxReader Tags: @akshi8278 @mywillfulwinchester @dainty-hibiscus @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @mrsbatesmotel53 @tacklesackles@creepykatftw @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt@gloriousartisanfancreator

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #spn fanfiction #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n

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willows-adventures-in-words · 3 years

Text

I think it took me almost three weeks before I finally decided this was ready to be posted. I decided to write about a first meeting in my wings AU. The one where Henrik meets his namesake. I just realized that this is the first thing I’ve written for this AU that wasn’t based off of a prompt.

Wings AU word count: 1912

_________________

Henry sighed as he stood by the door leading outside. The thunderstorm really picked up in the last hour. Pulling the door open he took a step outside and hesitated under the overhang. It really wasn't worth using his umbrella with how strong the winds were. If he did he was just going to fight with it to keep the wind from claiming it. Either way he'd be soaked. So instead he just ran for his car. After buckling up, he flipped his windshield wipers at full then pulled out of his parking spot and started his way home.

“You can not see shit,” Henry muttered as he drove through the small section of trees just before the road to his home. He had to slow significantly so he could be at least a little aware of his surroundings. When he came to a stop, turn signal blinking, a loud crack of thunder sounded. He leaned forward and looked up, a little unnerved with how close that was. Slowly he pulled out onto his road and under the last of the trees when he faintly heard something above him in the trees. Suddenly something crashed against the trunk of his car and tumbled onto the road.

Startled, Henry slamming on his breaks before getting out of his car. He walked around back to see what happened, only to stop in his tracks. “... My god.” A hybrid. And it wasn't moving. He pushed past his shock and stepped over crouching down next to it and checked for a pulse. It was alive. No, he was alive. Though his pulse was weak. He needed medical help. But there was no way he could take him back to the hospital. Not only did he not have time but he wasn't sure how good of an idea it was to bring a hybrid there. That only left him one option.

Without much contemplation, Henry got up and attempted to open his trunk. With the big dent he was surprised it actually opened. He grabbed for the blanket he kept there with the intent on putting the hybrid in the back seat on top of the blanket. But he had no idea how he would maneuver him in his car. There was another option though. Spreading the blanket out in the trunk he turned and lifted the hybrid up and laid him on top of the blanket. Once he had him situated, he shut the trunk and hurried back to his open door. He cursed as he sat down in his wet seat, then started the short distance to his home.

He stopped as close to his front door as possible before shutting off his car and hurriedly getting out. Henry moved quickly, rushing to the door to unlock and crack it open before going back to his car. Opening the trunk, he reached in and carefully lifted the hybrid in his arms. With a bit of difficulty, he shut the trunk. As he headed back to his house the wind pushed his door open. When he stepped inside he pushed the door closed with his foot and hurried to his guest room. After laying the hybrid down on the bed he checked his pulse again. It was the same as before. This isn't good. He had to find out the extent of the damage before he could even begin to tend to him.

Thoughts ran through his head; some useful, some not so much. As it stands he didn't have the time to concern himself with bird anatomy. Not until he found out what was wrong. The hybrid wasn't bleeding. Nothing severe anyway. A few cuts, scraps, and perhaps soon to be bruises. His shirt had a few tears and... singed? The lightning! He was struck by lighting. Carefully, and as quickly as he deemed possible, he rolled him onto his side. Just below his right arm on his back was a nice sized burn. Was he hit directly? Henry shook his head. Right now it didn't matter. What mattered was he do what he could. Take care of the burn as best he could and try to warm him up. Quickly, he left the room.

Thunder cracked loudly. The hybrid jerked awake. A strained sound emitted from him as he moved in an attempt to get up. He had some difficulty with his right arm but he managed in a mostly seated position. His whole right side and wing felt stiff. Sore. Where was he? His eyes moved to the movement in the room. He stared at the human, who was on his feet and looked surprised. Things started to click. The strange room. The building he was in. He was trapped. Captured? He pushed himself back putting distance between them as he tried to hide his wings from his view.

The man put down what he had in his hand and carefully lifted his hands. “Do not be scared. I promise I mean you no harm. I found you. You were hit by lightning. I brought you to my home. To heal you.” Wary of taking his eyes off of him, the hybrid looked around. Eyes landed on the window behind him. The storm. He was caught in the storm. Going more inland to find a place to hide when he felt the sharp pain. Barely conscious he fell from the sky, crashing through the trees before he hit something hard before going unconscious. Turning his attention away from the window, he glanced back to the human to see he hadn't moved, then looked down at himself. He now realized his shirt was undone at his back and hung loosely from his arms. There were vine like scars peeking out from under his arm from his back. He could also see part of the bandage that was on his back.

“Can you understand me?” The hybrid hesitated. Did he put trust in him? He did always find humans interesting. But now that he found himself in the home of one he felt a little unsure. He meant him no harm though. He even helped him. And the hybrid nodded.

Henry let out a sigh and fell back into his seat. “That is a relief. It will certainly make this easier.” He sat himself up to look a little more professional. “Do you know what happened to you?” The hybrid nodded again. “I am surprised you are awake. Your pulse was weak. I had been sure you would have been out longer.”

“... Pulse?”

A look of surprise came to Henry. He'd never had direct interaction with one of the hybrid's before this so he didn't know what to expect. “Yes. Someone's pulse is a way of checking someones health. Another way of checking for a heartbeat.” He lifted a hand and pressed his index and middle fingers to his neck. “This is one of the most common places to check for a pulse.” Henry watched as the hybrid copied him. They sat in momentary silence when the hybrid's wings fluttered slightly. The doctor wondered if he'd found it. He couldn't help the soft smile that touched his lips.

Thunder rumbled. The hybrid tensed and looked back to the window. The smile fell from his lips. “You are safe from the storm,” Henry said, trying to reassure him. Silence settled over the room. Henry watched him with interest and curiosity as the hybrid stared at the rain hitting the window. Then he relaxed. Henry could actually see his wings better now that he wasn't trying to hide them behind his back like when he first noticed him. But it was when he saw him shiver that Henry realized the problem. Not only were his wings damp but the bedding was wet from where they had been laying.

Getting to his feet, Henry asked, “Should I get you a towel to dry your wings?” He glanced over to him before spreading out his wings a bit but quickly stopped and lowered his right one. “Does your wing hurt?” the doctor asked when he noticed the change in his expression.

The hybrid lowered his other wing back down. “Yes I would like to dry my wings.” He watched as the man left. Reaching back he lightly touched the base of his right wing. It did hurt, and ached a little more so at the touch; he just didn't want the human touching his wings. He dropped his arm next to him on the bed. Really he could just shake his wings dry, well, mostly dry, but he didn't think that would be appropriate to do. And with his wing hurting he'd rather have an alternative method to dry them.

Taking another look around the room didn't tell him anything new. There was the window behind him. An exit in front of him. The spot the human had been seated at was next to the exit. He could hear him coming back. As he stepped back in the room, he paused for a moment. “You can use this to dry your wings.” After he finished his statement he held out one of the two items he had and stepped closer. The hybrid sat still and waited. Cautious. When he was close enough, the hybrid reached out and accepted the item in question. “I also brought you a throw blanket.” After he took the blanket the human stepped back. The blanket was very soft. “When you're done with the towel you can set it at the foot of the bed,” he explained. “I recommend resting and letting your body heal. Since you seem to be in good health considering the circumstance, I will come back and check on you in the morning.” He waited a moment more then left.

He turned back to the blanket and towel. The towel was large and had some softness to it. But it was the blanket he liked. It was so soft. He lifted it to his face and nustled into it for a moment. Then, carefully, he set it aside. Picking the towel back up he proceeded to try to dry his wings. By the time he was done he was laying on the non wet side of the bed with the towel draped on the bed behind him. The blanket was draped over his chest and he had nestled his face into it. It was a nice blanket...

Waking up in the morning, Henry was again relieved that what happened last night had happened when it did. He had the day off of work so he could stay in and look after the hybrid. Going downstairs he headed to the guest room where he left him. Except when he got there and carefully looked inside, he found the room empty. Stepping inside he quickly looked around but there was no sign of him. Though the throw blanket he offered the night before was missing. Did he leave? Henry walked around his house to make sure. There was no sign of him. Heading back upstairs to his bedroom he stepped out onto the balcony attached and looked out towards the ocean. It was safe to assume the hybrid left. He left and stole one of his throw blankets. Henry let out a sigh but then smiled; happy he was able to help him.

#jacksepticeye #JSE egos #Henrik von Schneeplestein #original character #My writing #wings #JSE writing

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tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016 · 4 years

Text

Submit To Me (Chapter Two)

Authors Note- And here we are with Chapter two of Submit To Me this chapter will feature things such as swearing (It’s Gavin what do you expect?), Graphic violence, blood. If none of this is your cup of tea I suggest you look away, if you’re cool with that then enjoy.

Chapter 2: Investigations

“Detective, don’t you find the frequency of these killings worrisome?” Silas asked, his eyes glued onto the screen before him as he read through file after file on their murder victims. “The suspect, whoever they maybe has killed twelve women in the last two months.”

“So?” Gavin spat, his eyes glued onto his own screen, typing away not glancing in Silas’ direction. “You not familiar with serial killers, or what?” Gavin tore his gaze away from his screen to glower at Silas. “Our killer is an android, it doesn’t need to relax after it kills. Hell, I’m sure the longer we sit here gabbing the more the bodies will pile up. Or, what?” His voice taking a taunting tone as he smirked at his ‘partner’. “Does the idea of going after one of your own rub you the wrong way?”

Silas shook his head.

“Make that thirteen.” Chris spoke up, walking up to their desk, a grim look on his dark face as he looked down at him. “They found another body, this one more banged up than the others.”

Cursing under his breath Gavin pushed himself away from his desk, grabbing his gun as he did so. Saying nothing Silas got up from his seat, and followed Gavin out towards Gavin’s banged up shit heap of a dodge charger.

“Great,” Gavin spat, glaring at him as he eased himself in the passenger seat and buckled up. “Not only do I have to share the same desk as you, but now we have to share a ride?!”

“Would you prefer if I walked to the scene, Detective?” Silas asked, sarcasm tinting his voice, making Gavin bristle.

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel he pulled out of his parking spot, and made his way down the road, activating his windshield wipers as it started to rain. Perfect, Gavin thought darkly, weather that finally suits my mood.

“So,” Gavin started, when the silence got a little too unbearable even for him. “What do we know about our latest victim? I’m asking you because assholes like you always seem to get that info ahead of us, so fill me in.”

Silas worried at his lip, something Gavin never saw an android do before, it was odd. Most androids were impassive, emotionless. Sure, sometimes they would have some sort of expression on their faces but Gavin never really paid attention to it until now. Shaking those thought from his head he watched as the android turned to face him.

Realizing he had been staring Gavin felt a scowl creep across his face, before leaning back in his seat, eyes glued on the road before them. “Well,” he pressed, finding the silence unbearable for some reason, even though he could never stand when androids spoke to him. Especially when they acted like they were equals to humans, what a load of shit. If he had his way he would have made his asshole brother program them to only response with ‘yes, sir.’ “No, sir.’ ‘Of course, sir.’ But Eli had been adamant about androids being able to communicate with humans, to better help them. Well... to Gavin they’d be of more help if they were all destroyed. At least that’s what he thought.

“Victim’s name is Katie Bryce, age eighteen, reported missing three days ago by her roommate-”

“Wait, three days ago?” Gavin cut in, as he rounded a corner, catching sight of the flashing blue and red lights of the police cars that were parked outside an old apartment building. The building itself looked like it had seen better days, graffiti marred the walls of it, darkened windows revealed nothing, some of them smashed, glass littered the ground beneath them, no doubt at the hands of hooligans. Gavin let a small smile creep to his lips, as he stepped out of the car, Silas following him, like a puppy. He used to be like those hooligans, skipping school and smashing windows, good times.

“Yes, three days ago. I know what you’re getting at, Detective.” Silas spoke, trailing behind him. “Our victims prior to this one have usually been missing for one day before their bodies have been discovered. Seems to me like our suspect might be escalating in someway.”

“You mean how the victims are tortured and mutilated before being dumped?” Gavin asked, as he flashed his badge at the android officers standing outside the apartment door. Walking through the door Gavin felt a scowl creep across his face as he glanced at them from the corner of his eye. Wondering how long it would before androids like Silas and Connor took his place in the DPD and he ended up on his ass on the streets?

“It does seem like our suspect is escalating.” Silas said, following Gavin down the hall the officers had indicated.

Coming to a small, one bedroom apartment that had seen some better days for sure. Following the Detective to the bedroom Silas watched as Gavin muttered a curse, clapping a hand over his mouth as he looked to the gruesome scene before him.

There she was, laying sprawled on the floor, her arms spread out at her sides. Her body, once beautiful, was now marred with cuts, burns and various welts and bruises. But that was not what drew Silas’ attention, his eyes glued to her face, her pale lips parted, blood trickling from them, standing out against her pale skin. Her eyes, or lack of them caught his attention, thick streams of blood trickled down her face from the eyeless sockets.

He worried at his bottom lip, looking around he wondered if the killer left them somewhere around the room. Straightening he moved around the mostly barren room, noticing the decrepit looking dresser to one corner he quickly moved towards it, opening the drawers he was disappointed to find nothing. Looking around the room once more, so...the killer took a trophy? Odd, it was the first time they did that, but why?

Pushing that thought from his head until later he moved around the room once more. Eyes immediately going to the writing on the wall above the victims head. The words, I AM ALIVE were written in Cyberlife font. Further cementing their theory that their killer was a android, a clearly deranged deviant no less Silas thought.

Running his fingers through the drying blood he registered it as their victims. The girls smiling visage appearing before his eyes. No surprise to him, considering she was their victim, hearing a disgusted groan Silas turned around, eyes immediately going to where Gavin was crouched beside the body, a disgusted look on his face as he glared at Silas.

“Are you disturbed by the way I analyze evidence?” Silas asked, licking his fingers clean. “I hope you get used to it, it’s the only way I am able of-”

“Yeah, yeah I know why you do it I just think the assholes who made you should have done something different, something that won’t have me damn near contaminating any evidence we might come across by blowing chunks every time we investigate.” Gavin grumbled.

Silas was quiet, wiping his wet fingers on the his pants leg. Muttering an apology Silas moved about the apartment, cataloging evidence before returning to the body, standing beside Gavin as he looked down at the body, eyes immediately going to the bruise around her neck.

“Looks like our killer finished the girl off by choking her to death.” Gavin mused.

“After making her suffer so much before hand.” Silas added.

Gavin nodded, unaware that Silas was watching him. Despite know that he should focus on the evidence, and trying to figure out where the suspect had gone afterwards, when-

CREAAAAAAK!

The two of them looked towards the hall as they heard the floor boards creak. Casting a glance at Silas Gavin slowly moved towards the door, and peered out. Silas following close behind, his eyes immediately landing on the small form of an android. And AP700, one that looked at them with fearful eyes, trembling she looked right back at them.

But that wasn’t what drew their attention, her clothes, her plain white uniform was stained with blood, and in her hands...a bloodstained blade gleaming dully in the light. Gavin felt excitement grip his chest, this was their suspect. A cruel smile found its way to his face as he reached for his gun, this was their killer, they would finally be able to put this case to rest, when without a word the android turned and raced towards the stairs.

“Hey! Stop!” Gavin shouted, racing after the android, Silas calling after him, anger tinting the RK900′s voice. Hey, Gavin thought darkly, climbing the stairs after the android, he found their killer, and he managed to piss off his partner, now he would know how Gavin felt about this whole android partner bullshit.

Seeing the android make her way towards the fire escape, crying out as Gavin fired on the android, bullets tearing into the wood of the doorframe. Casting a glance over her shoulder the android disappeared through the door.

“Gavin, stop we need it alive.” Silas protested, his words falling on deaf ears as Gavin fired another couple of rounds at the androids retreating back. Anger flashing through him as the human detective chased her onto the roof, Silas close behind.

Silas eyes widened when he saw as the android slipped out from her hiding place, and crept towards Gavin. Thirium pump thundering in his chest Silas moved to stop her, as she grabbed Gavin, sinking her blade into his side. Making Silas cry out as he watched as red blossomed across Gavin’s shirt as she sunk the blade of her knife to the hilt in his side.

A laugh escaped her lips as she pulled her knife out, bright red droplets dripping off the knife onto the ground, before she sunk it into his side once more, before Silas pulled her off of Gavin, his hand gripping a handful of her hair, jerking her towards him. Normally cool grey eyes blazed with uncontrollable anger as he looked down at the android.

Fear shone in the deviants eyes as she looked up at Silas, a plea escaping her lips as Silas pulled back his fist, slamming it in her face, all thoughts of bringing the deviant in alive were gone from his head, striking her again. Bright blue blood spilling down her face as she begged him to let her go.

“Why should I let you go?” Silas growled, his voice but a whisper. “When you have gone against your programming and have killed so many, killed my partner.”

“H-humans have hurt me, too many times.” She cried out, her right eye damaged to the point where it couldn’t open as she broke free of Silas’ grip.

“Humans may have caused this, but I’m going to end it.” Silas followed after her, a thrill going through his body, causing errors to pop up in his vision, which he brushed away without a thought as he inched towards the terrified android.

He liked it, liked seeing the terror on the deviants face, after all she hurt his partner, a human. So, she needed to be destroyed... looking past the android. She was inching towards the edge of the roof, Silas’ smile turned cruel moving closer to the android he shoved, ignoring her pleas as she pitched backwards and plummeted to the ground below with a satisfying splat.

Looking down at the mess of the deviant Silas felt satisfaction as he looked down at it, watching as the officers looked up at him, eyes wide in shock before looking down at the deviants remains as Silas turned away.

His eyes glued on the prone form of Gavin, his blood spreading out across the cement below, crouching down beside him Silas ignored the feeling of blood seeping into the fabric of his pants as he checked Gavin for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that he was still alive. Looking up Silas watched as Chris and several other officers poured out onto the roof along with a few paramedics.

Taking a step back Silas watched as they loaded his partner onto a stretcher, he should he glad that Gavin would no doubt be okay he couldn’t help but feel anger...and something else towards his partner. Anger at his total disregard for his safety when pursuing the deviant. The other feeling? Silas frowned as he followed the officers out, his eyes fixated on Gavin, he couldn’t put his finger on it but there was something about Gavin that just called out to him.

Something that told him that screamed at Silas to never leave him alone, that if he did then he would just endanger himself again, to control everything the detective did to a point, to make him regret how Gavin looked at Silas. To make him his. Silas smiled, a cold, cruel smile as he thought about how he was going to go about doing it. To see Gavin’s eyes flash with anger as Silas revealed his real colours, to see him look at him with something other than hate and anger. Silas smiled, he couldn’t wait to see how it would play out.

#Chapter 2 of 6 #Tw blood #Tw graphic scenes of violence #Tw swearing #gavin reed #RK900 #Gavin and Elijah are brothers in this #Tw death #dialog heavy #I guess you can say this is both a smut/romance/ mystery/crime thriller fanfiction???#tw injuries #tw violence

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the-reader-to-my-hero · 5 years

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Of Motorcycles and Mothmen

A/N: this was inspired by @ichor-and-symbiosis ‘s cute Mothman Tomura headcannons but with my own twist. Since yall are thirsty for the mothman here ya go this is a Modern!AU no quirks.

It had been an ordinary evening. Well. As ordinary as it got in this creepy ass part of the woods. But the young mechanic honestly preferred the unseen eyes of whatever-the-hell-was-watching-her over the hundreds of people commuting via the subway.

Olive Jones was not very good with people.

She was just never really able to break out of her socially awkward “phase”. She had a really rough time in high school, so bad that it lead to violent anger issues that ultimately got her suspended on assault charges of other classmates. After that, with a strained relationship with her family, she moved from Australia to Japan to study at a technical school.

Being a foreigner and not knowing anyone really didn’t help Olive’s case but it didn’t exactly hurt it either. She was good at her job, running a small shop for both electronics and motorbikes. Her income was steady so she spent her extra money on videogames and subscription fees.

She preferred to travel to a game store outside the city, using an older road that cut through one of Japan’s large forests. It was a weekly trip. Part of the decision was Olive had scopophobia, which is essentially the fear of being watched or stared at. Her pale freckled skin, short dusty blonde hair, and the eyepatch over her right eye definitely made her something to ogle at. Isn’t like she blamed people.

But the woods...well… that was different. At first it was just a certain part of the woods, especially around dusk, near a creek she could see flowing during the summer months. It was spooky, but being a foreign blonde woman in her early-mid 20’s, Olive wasn’t about to stop and check it out. That’s how you die folks.

Then it all changed when one fateful night, ye ole faithful moped broke down...in the woods… near that one creepy place. Olive kept a heavy metal wrench in one hand the whole time, jumping at every sound, eyes darting around as the hairs on her neck stood up. She cursed up a loud Aussie storm, yelling at her moped like she was cussing someone out, hoping maybe, it would keep away any lurking predators. That and she actually...did that a lot.

She didn’t consider that any would find her act entertaining, especially when the act dropped when her moped tipped over.

“Aw! Bloody fucking hell! You blasted No good, piss-poor broken-backed camel!” that was the most PG one of the insults. The wind had then suddenly picked up, branches rustling as if laughing at her misfortune.

Luckily, she got her ride working, but something had changed. No everytime she went through that forest, she felt like she was being watched the entire time. She told herself it was paranoia cause she broke down, that she's just overthinking it, but that of course, didn't make it go away.

Then finally… Something happened…

It was a dark stormy night, as cliche as it sounds. For the record, the storm came out of nowhere, a sunny day switching to a stormy night in the time Olive was browsing new releases.

It was raining like fucking cats and dogs. Jones was really wishing she had itty bitty windshield wipers on her helmet visor as she whisked through the tunnel of light her moped lamp gave her. The rain sparkled in the light, refracting it, like little gem stones. It would be kind of pretty if the mechanic wasn’t drenched to the bone and trying to ignore the shiver that went down her back.

The wind whistled through the trees, and Olive could glimpse the branches above her swaying in the wind. That feeling got stronger. She swore she heard a flapping sound, a loud one amongst the chaos, like wings.

She isn’t entirely sure what made her look in her rearview mirror, but it would change the course of Olive Jone’s life. In her circular rearview mirror, illuminated by the refracted light off the rain droplets, were two big, glowing red eyes, a mere 10 yards behind her moped.

Olive’s head flew to look behind her as she shouted “WHAT THE FU—“

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The moped hydroplaned across a big puddle from the flooding creek. Olive lost control, attempting to turn around the sharp bend in the road but she only succeeded in losing balance and sailing off the road toward the steep hill into the ditch. She flew off her moped mid-air, the wheels on the bike still moving, headlight shining up on an approaching figure in the night sky.

Olive could only close her eyes and brace herself.

She landed on her left shoulder, and she swore she heard a rather unpleasant pop! Sound off, but she was already tumbling down the steep incline as her Moped did the same with a bunch of crashes and thuds.

Somehow, her moped’s headlight still worked, shining like a beacon in the rain as it lied on its side. Olive Jones however, was caked in mud and grass and leaves, sprawled out lying on her stomach, in shock. Somewhere along the way, she lost her helmet, which was wedged between two rocks higher up the incline.

Everything hurt. Olive wondered if this was the end for her, and how long it would take people to notice. She was a nobody. Some aussie shut in with a work permit. Was she gonna die out here? How long until her moped’s headlamp died?

There was a sound, a familiar one, like the beating of wings. Olive spotted movement, her single eye scanning the skyline.

And then….

There he was.

He blocked out the moped’s headlamp, a humanoid silhouette. Immediately something was off, mainly the huge pair of paper thin wings folding behind their back.

Olive couldn't move underneath their red eyed gaze, even though she was unable to see it. She laid there, frozen, trying to blink out the cold rain that seeped through her eyelashes. She was dreaming right? She hit her head too hard? This giant...moth….man…. was just a hallucination right?

But the squelch of the mud beneath their strange alien feet as they took a slow step forward couldn’t have been more real. With an overwhelming terror, Olive’s body flew into action, shoving her upper body upright. All at once her left shoulder clenched with a searing pain that she sucked in through her teeth. She nearly fell face first back into the mud, but she forced herself to sit up, falling backward against a stump.

Maybe it was the pain. Making her see loony things Olive bared her teeth like some snarling injured animal, clasping at the shoulder with her good arm, while planting her feet in front of her.

The thing cocked its head to the side abruptly, before leering closer.

“s-S-Stop!!” Olive yelped in English, voice cracking. It blinked its red eyes rapidly, as if it were confused. Oh right. Japan. But did it even understand Japanese? Did it talk? It was uncanny valley how human it looked and how extremely not.

The pain in Ol’s shoulder was nearly unbearable from her own iron grip. She buried her converse hightops into the mud, shrinking away as he came ever closer. With a hard swallow she switched languages. “D-don’t hurt me please. Don't come any closer! I-I-I’ll batter ya!” That was awfully convincing considering she was soaked to the bone from the downpour, covered in mud, and could feel bruises and cuts forming all over her body.

Another step. Olive couldn't press herself any further into the tree.

It crouched, wings draped on either side. It chirped as if in curiosity. Red eyes burned into her, glared at her, and—probably all this time huh? All that time she felt like she was being watched out here in the woods. Had it been watching? Waiting to make the kill?

Olive found herself shrinking beneath its gaze, trying to hide her shivering form.

Something grabbed her jaw. It was hard and smooth like plastic, but solid, not flesh, as it forcefully pulled her forward. She choked on air, unable to look away from those red eyes.

Ol wasn’t quite sure what happened next. She just…kinda went limp, her body folding under her. Maybe it was the shock, the fear, the stress, but she never hit the muddy ground. No, she was caught by what she can only assume are hands, which slowly maneuvered and manipulated her body with surprising care. Whatever it was, it was mindful of her shoulder when she whimpered in pain. She realized she was shivering. Violently. God she'll probably catch one helluva cold.

Warmth.

Olive was pressed up against something warm and soft, like some sort of blanket and if that didn’t take her out instantly, the exhaustion sure did.

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robinrunsfiction · 5 years

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Valentine's Challenge 2019 Day 14

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: None Word Count: 1,650 Author’s Note: My boyfriend gave me the idea for this story without knowing it

"Hey, what are you doing?" You shouted as you saw a figure doing something behind your car. The person stepped out and you realized it was your neighbor Gerard. He saw the confused look on your face as he waved.

"I'm cleaning off your car," he said holding up the ice scraper.

You gingerly made your way across the frozen parking lot. You saw his car sat fully scraped clean next to yours, and he was now working on your front windshield.

"You don't need to do that," you said sternly. "I don't need any help."

"Its fine, I'm being neighborly," he replied as a big chunk of ice dislodged from under the windshield wiper and launched toward your head.

"Watch it! Oh my God," you muttered. You were running late to work, as usual, and you just wanted to leave. "Its fine, it's good enough, I can see out, just leave it."

"Ok, you're good," he said as he finished scraping the middle portion of the windshield and you got in. He waved as you backed out and went on your way.

The next morning you glanced out the window as you were getting ready for work and noticed Gerard was out there scraping the frost off your windows again.

You frowned. You didn't understand why he was doing it. Did he think you were incapable or something? Just because you lived alone didn't mean you were a damsels in distress. You glanced at the clock and realized you were running late again. You muttered a few curses under your breath before rushing out.

Gerard was just putting his ice scraper back in his car when you got to your car.

"Thanks, but you know you really don't have to do that, especially if it makes you run late or anything. I can handle it. "

"Don't worry about it. I just like to help," he said with a lopsided smile. You smiled back before quickly getting in your car and hurrying away. You couldn't get the thought of Gerard out of your head all day, feelings ranging from irritation to appreciation, just depending on the moment.

Gerard clearing the ice and snow from your car became pretty routine over the next few weeks, despite you telling him repeatedly you could do it yourself. You made a New Years resolution to be on time to work more often, and so sometimes you came down before Gerard had finished and you helped him.

It was late January when you were hit by a nasty cold. You opened your blinds and glanced out and saw Gerard wiping the light snow off from your car. He wiped off his own car, and then he did something you didn't expect. He tossed the scraper back into his car and came back inside. You heard him come up the stairs, then his door opened and closed. A minute later you heard music coming from his side of the hallway.

Part of you wanted to get up and go over there to figure out why he insisted that the reason he was cleaning off your car was to be neighborly when he didn’t help anyone else, and more importantly why bothered cleaning off your car if he wasn’t even going anywhere. But the cold medicine you took started to coax you into a slumber on your couch.

When you woke up not feeling any better in the early afternoon it was quiet. You got up and looked outside and Gerard's car was gone. You turned on the TV and slipped in and out of sleep the rest of the day.

The next morning you forgot to turn off your alarm despite knowing the second you opened your eyes you would be calling out of work sick again. Then you had an idea.

You went to your living room and waited quietly until you heard the door across the hall open and Gerard heading downstairs.

"Hey," you called as you opened your door. Gerard was so startled he almost fell off the step he was on. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know I'm staying home sick so you don't need to clean off my car."

"Oh, ok. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, it's just a cold." You paused. "I know you didn’t go anywhere until yesterday afternoon. You really don't have to go out of your way for me, I can take care of it."

"Don't you ever let people just help you?"

"Not really, no."

Gerard laughed. "Its ok sugar, I like helping you. Besides, you’re cute when your irritated. "

You couldn't help but blush at that. "Don't butter me up! I'm doing just fine-" before you could finish your sentence you were stuck with a coughing fit.

Gerard came back up the stairs. "Hang on," he said as he slipped past you and into his apartment. A moment later he reappeared with a box of tea. “Try this, it will help with your sore throat. I drink it when I’m feeling rough after a show.”

You furrowed your brow. “Show?”

“I sing in a band. You should come check us out sometime,” he said with a proud grin.

“Maybe I will when I don’t feel like human garbage,” you replied. “I’m gonna go make some of this tea and lay down. I’ll bring back what I don’t use.”

“Don't worry about it, I got tons. Keep it.”

“Thanks,” you replied as you went back inside your apartment and shut the door. As it latched you leaned against it, clutching the box of tea. ‘What the hell was Gerard doing worming his way into my heart?’ You wondered. ‘How dare he be cute with his black hair and his dumb crooked smile. Stupid hazel eyes. Always getting in my way when I need to leave with his stupid helpfulness, being all considerate. Ugh.' You rolled you eyes and made your way to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

You spent the rest of the morning watching all the bad daytime TV you slept through yesterday, but your mind kept wandering across the hall. Suddenly you heard a soft knock on your door. You looked out before opening the door and saw it was Gerard.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?”

“Better thanks, the tea really helped.”

“Good, good,” he looked like he had something else to say so you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. “Ok, I just wanted to check before I go to band practice.”

“Ok, thanks Gerard,” you said with a smirk as he turned and headed back to his apartment.

As February arrived, the weather started to warm and your car wasn’t frosted over every morning, but you now found yourself looking for excuses to run into Gerard and he seemed to be doing the same. Since Valentine's Day was around the corner you knew it was time to show your appreciation for your frustrating, but cute and thoughtful neighbor.

On the morning of the 14th you carefully wrapped up a plate of chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting and heart shaped sprinkles and then looked outside. The warm snap had ended and it was practically a blizzard outside. Suddenly your phone vibrated on the table.

From: The Boss Lady

Hey (YN), the office is going be closed today due to the weather, it’s not safe for anyone to drive today. Enjoy your day!

You grinned, today was going to be even better than you expected. You glanced outside again and saw Gerard stomping through the snow toward your car and you hurried to pull on your boots and coat.

“Gerard!” You called from the doorway of the building as soon as you stepped outside. He waved and went back to work. You rolled your eyes and went out to the parking lot. “Gerard, my office is closed, come insi- AHHH!”

As soon as you reached Gerard, you slipped in the snow and were falling backward. Gerard reached out for you and also lost his footing, landing partially on you.

“Oof, oh God, I’m sorry,” he said pushing his weight off you, but still hovering over you. You held your breath as your eyes connected.

“I’m ok, let's, umm go inside, I made you something,” you said, trying to regain your composure.

“I got you something too,” he said brushing the snow from your back after helping you up. He went to his car and pulled out a bouquet of dark red roses.

“Gerard,” you murmured in surprise, grinning up at him. “They're beautiful, thank you. Come on, let’s get out of the snow.”

When you got back inside, you went to your door. “Come on,” you nodded as you went in. Gerard followed behind, glancing around your apartment as you went to the kitchen and put the flowers into a vase. “These are for you.”

Gerard's eyes went wide as he grinned up at you when he took the plate. “Thanks! I haven't had anything homemade in a long time."

“I wanted to say thank you for your help all winter. I really do appreciate it, even though I put up a fight at first. I get it now,” you said again looking from his eyes to his lips and he seemed to be taking the hint as he took a step toward you.

You closed the distance, lips crashing together, your hand running up and down the back of his neck as he pulled you close, his hands holding you against him. You deepened the kiss and sighed happily. When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless.

“I'm ready to let you into my life, if you want in?”

“I’ve been hoping you would say that for a long time,” he replied before kissing you again like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Masterlist

#my boyfriend inadvertently gave me the idea for this one #valentines challenge #gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfic #gerard way fan fic #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance fan fiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance imagines #gerard way fan fiction #my chemical romance fan fic

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anonsally · 5 years

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Day 13 in New Zealand: Otago Peninsula

It was a good day for watching birds on the larger side. Long report below!

Today, Wife had booked herself on a walking tour of the city, while I had booked myself a tour at the Royal Albatross Centre. After averting a near-disaster where she walked off with the car keys and I needed to drive [luckily, I caught up with her before she left on her walking tour], I bought a new pair of hiking shoes. I think they might actually fit better than the ones I lost, and they have the added bonus of being purple. The ones I lost might arrive sometime tomorrow, but I needed hiking shoes before then and I don’t even know whether they will arrive.

I then returned to the car, had my phone navigate for me, and drove alone to the Royal Albatross Centre at the end of the Otago Peninsula. The hard thing about driving on the left isn’t remembering which lane to drive in--it’s staying positioned correctly within the lane when seated on the opposite side of the car from what you’re used to. Both Wife and I are constantly drifting just a little too far to the left when we drive, to the alarm of the passenger. Also, the turn indicators and windshield wipers have switched sides, so the wipers are getting a major workout even though it hasn’t rained much at all.

Anyway, it was a beautiful drive, winding along the coastline with lots of different seabirds (reef heron (I think), white-faced herons, possibly some little shags?, black swans, paradise shelducks, oystercatchers), some boats, and views across the Otago Harbor to Dunedin. There was some road construction going on, but even without it the drive would have mostly been pretty slow, which feels safer to me.

I made it to the Royal Albatross Centre on time. There were only 4 people on my tour--a retired but active Scottish couple, a retired Australian man with a fancy camera, and me. We had a brief lecture and saw an instructional video on the royal albatross, and I learned some fascinating facts:

The chicks stay at the nest for about 9 months before they fledge, and they get really fat--too fat to fly! So their parents have force them to exercise a little and put them on a diet (the chicks eat food their parents regurgitate for them) so that they’ll be able to learn to fly.

Once they fledge, they take off and then don’t touch land for 5 years! When they finally do land, very clumsily on legs they have not stood on in 5 years, it’s always at the site where they hatched.

At this point they are not yet sexually mature, but they start hanging out and showing off with other albatrosses their own age, flirting and gradually building a relationship with one of them. They hang out together on land for a few months, then fly around the pole again and meet up the following year, repeating this a couple times.

The year before they reach sexual maturity, they commit. They build a fake nest together, practice preening each other, etc. Then they fly off for a year and meet up again to try to mate this time.

They only lay one egg every two years. It takes 3 months to incubate the egg (both parents take turns) and then 9 months to raise the chick, and then the parents need a vacation. They fly off separately toward South America and keep going in the same direction until they get back home again a year later. The male usually arrives first and builds the nest, though the females sometimes aren’t happy with the results.

There are currently two F/F couples. The volunteers give them fake eggs to incubate and then, if another egg gets abandoned (or something happens to the parents), they can switch it out and the F/F pairs will raise the chick.

The royal albatrosses have only been nesting on Otago Peninsula for a few decades; previously they nested exclusively on Stewart Island, but maybe it got a bit overcrowded, or some albatrosses got lost? This is the only mainland breeding site for albatrosses in the southern hemisphere.

After this, we walked up the hill to a small building with tinted glass windows that the albatrosses can’t see through. We had a pretty close view of a chick on its nest, with two or three other chicks within sight too. They were large, very fluffy, and pretty fat! There was also a great view of a bunch of Stewart Island shags and their nests, which were all crowded close together (but not within pecking distance). And then we got a brief glimpse of an adult royal albatross soaring around. It was unimaginably huge (wingspans are 2.9-3.3 METERS).

We then went to another hide, this one originally part of a military installment. There was an even closer chick, and we saw the adult flying again. Spectacular.

Afterwards I drove back about 15 minutes or so to pick up Wife, who’d taken a bus as far as she could up the peninsula. We went to do a tour at Penguin Place, a private wildlife reserve and penguin hospital dedicated to conservation of the endangered yellow-eyed penguin (hoiho).

Unlike the little blue penguins, which return home in big rafts of up to several dozen individuals, these penguins are more solitary. The pairs make a nest together but they don’t like their nests to be too close together. We also found out that there are some gay penguin couples in the reserve who have raised orphaned chicks together.

The main problems facing the hoiho are overfishing and climate change; the fish they eat are becoming scarcer due to humans catching most of them, and the fish are living in deeper waters, below where the penguins are evolved to swim. This year the penguin hospital had to care for 300 starving penguins, which is nearly half of New Zealand’s population of them and nearly 20% of the world’s population.

So, first we visited the penguin hospital. There was a fence with a wide slit at eye level to look through; due to the fence, the penguins can’t tell how big we are and don’t feel too threatened. There were still 9 of them there, which is unfortunately a lot for this time of year. Some of them were still moulting and looked pretty hilarious. Others had their new plumage already and looked very sleek and fancy! It was nice to see them so close up, and they won’t be kept any longer than necessary to rehabilitate them, but of course we were still hoping to see one out in the wild, and there was no guarantee.

Next we all boarded a bus which bumped along rough farm roads down to the reserve, where we were taken into covered trenches to the hides where we could look through slits at the penguins when they came ashore and then waddled toward their homes. On our way down to the trenches, the guide pointed out a penguin on the beach already! I had my binoculars with me and was able to get a better look. Then we hurried through the trenches to the hide and had a great view of it waddling along the path. Once it was out of sight, we waited a bit, and then another one came! It basically got followed by another one who wanted to be friends but was rebuffed. We watched the two of them waddling up the path (one a few meters behind the other), stopping periodically to preen, and we also saw two more from a distance, as they didn’t come up the trail from the beach but came up on the rocks a little ways off. It was so great. We saw five of them altogether, and it felt really special. I hope some protections get put in place to help them survive. They are such beautiful birds.

I’m glad I bought the tiny binoculars--they’ve definitely helped me get better views of the birds today. I have now achieved most of my birdwatching goals for the trip: kiwi, royal albatross, blue penguin, yellow-eyed penguin! I am still really hoping to see a tomtit and a pukeko, and I would, of course, be happy to see a kakapo or a South Island kaka, or for that matter any other bird I’ve never seen before. But even if I don’t, I think it’s been quite a successful trip for birdwatching!

#personal #travel #birdwatching #tl;dr

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themadamelibrarian · 5 years

Text

Sweater Weather - Part 1 of Incense and Peppermint

Written By: @themadamelibrarian & @thenanahunter Titlecard by @atc74 Rating: Mature Relationships: Gabriel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Gabriel, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean in Hell, Visions in dreams, Christmas Fluff, Non-Graphic Smut Summary: All Gabriel wanted to do was protect her. To keep her from the machinations of Hell but what he wants and what his Father wills are two different things. Will he lose Anna because his family wants to tear itself apart?

Notes:

This story takes place in a universe where Bobby Singer adopted an orphaned girl after a hunt gone wrong. Years later, she gained the attention of our favorite candy loving Archangel turned Trickster.

We wanted to share this with you but didn't know where to start exactly, so why not in the middle. It doesn't take alot of background to follow this bit but if you want more of Anna and Gabriel let us know. We might be persuaded to write further adventures for them.

Share this story and show support for the creator!

Tagging: @copperseraphim @thenanahunter @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @idabbleincrazy @truxblooded

LINK TO AO3

Anna was excited. She was getting to spend the whole weekend with Gabriel in a snowy little mountain cabin. Just him and her, alone. No dad. No Winchesters. To top it all off, her dad was in approval of the whole trip. It gave her a warm feeling that made her think her dad had finally, maybe, started to accept her relationship with Gabe; even trust him enough to take her off alone, states away.

That was the only downside to this whole trip. To keep up the appearances that Gabriel was a human, she had to drive to the cabin. Bobby had tried multiple times to get her to take his truck in the case of bad weather, but she insisted that she had looked into the weather, and that her little Nova would do the trick. Boy was she pressing her luck.

About a mile away from the highway turn off, the snow had turned from light, fluffy, dream-like globs to a constant white curtain that blew with wind gusts that rocked her car. Even with her wipers turned on high speed, she was having difficulties seeing the road. It’s not that it bothered her to drive in the weather, it was worrying about what other idjit could be out with her.

With some skill, and a few encouraged rubs over the talisman, she finally pulled up to a quaint cabin. Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned off all the extras working on her car before cutting the engine. Looking to the porch, she mapped out a little plan to get herself and her bags inside with minimal exposure to the cold. Taking a few deep breaths, she launched out of the driver’s seat, skidded as she grabbed her duffel from the back, and quick waddled to the door to keep from falling down.

Finding a small amount of shelter under the porch roof, she stomped her boots against the wood to knock off the snow before she thought about heading inside.

The door whipped open to reveal Gabriel clad in a red terry cloth robe with white trim and holding a mug of hot chocolate, cookies and worried expression, “One more tug on that necklace and I was going to come for you.”

Anna looked up when the door opened, sighing as the warmth from inside flowed out to meet her exposed skin. A grin spread across her face at the sight of Gabriel. “Sorry to have worried you. If it makes you feel better, doing it was keeping me calm.” She stepped up to him, and picked up a star cookie. “Aren’t we festive? Do I have to give Santa a kiss to gain entry to the North Pole?”

“It would help,” Gabriel said as he bent down so she could reach and he’d have some control on not spilling any of the goodies.

“Well, anything I can do to help.” Anna leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss with a cold nose and chilly lips.

Gabriel gave and over exaggerated shudder as he broke the kiss and stepped aside, “Get in. You’re going to get frostbite on your ass if you keep standing out in the cold.”

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” she sang playfully as she quickly entered the cabin. Stepping off to the side, she dropped her bag, and started to shed her layers. It wasn’t until she went to hang up her coat that she noticed the greenery wrapped around the coat rack. “Did the cabin come decorated with winter stuff, or did you do that too?”

Turning around so she could lean against the wall to take off her boots, she froze when she saw the rest of the decor. Every inch of the cabin was decorated in what she could only describe as a tasteful Christmas wonderland. There was even a real Christmas tree sitting in the corner, decorated completely with lights and ornaments.

Anna turned to Gabriel wide eyed, and asked, “Did you do all of this?”

Gabriel beamed at her as he sat the plate he was holding on a nearby table, “I even made cookies. The human way. Do you know how irritating it is to bake sugar cookies? They burn like they’re made of matchsticks if you don’t watch them.”

Anna crossed to him quickly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love it,” she murmured before kissing him, “I love that you would do something so human for me too. I’m sure your cookies will taste delicious.”

“And I’m glad that you love it, because you spilled your cocoa on my hand,” he said, squeezing the words out between the press of their lips as the beverage dripped off his fingers and onto the floor.

Gasping softly, she let him go, and stepped back to look at his hand holding the mug. “I’m sorry! Here, let me take it.” She carefully took the warm drink from his hand and held it between hers. She shivered a little at the sudden warmth. “Did it burn you?”

“Barely felt it,” he said, dropping a quick kiss to her cheek then snapping his fingers to clean up the mess, “Don’t worry about it, Cupcake. Just come in and get comfy.” He lead the way over to the couch where a box lay wrapped and adorned with ribbons.

Anna quickly pulled and wiggled her feet out of her boots before following Gabe to the couch. Spying the box, her looked to Gabe and raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this a present for me?” she asked.

“It is,” he admitted as he sat down, tugging his robe closed so he wouldn’t end up flashing her, “And I know we said no gifts but this is practical for this weekend.”

Studying him with scrunched eyes, she set the mug down and picked up the gift so she could sit down. “What is it?” she asked, giving the box a little shake.

Gabriel shook his head, refusing to spill the beans on the contents of box. “Open and all will be revealed,” he said as he snapped up a cup of eggnog for himself.

“Fine,” she whined playfully as she tugged off the ribbon. Once it was out of the way, she ripped off the paper, revealing the plain white box underneath. “Curiouser and curiouser.” Grasping the lid, she gave it a few jiggles until it came off. Anna set the lid to the side and pushed back the tissue paper. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked, looking to him with a small smile.

“Happy belated Christmas, Anna,” Gabriel said warmly.

Anna’s smile grew and she pulled the soft red material from the box, shaking it out a little so it would hang loose. “A Mrs. Claus robe. Thank you. This really will come in handy this weekend,” she leaned over and kissed Gabe’s cheek, “I can’t believe that you found a place that it was still snowing this time of year.” She refolded the robe to place back in the box, but more red fabric caught her eye.

Raising an eyebrow at Gabe, she set the robe aside, and pulled a silky piece of red fabric out of the box. Holding it up, she smirked at Gabe. “If I wear this, am I on the Naughty or Nice list?”

“Oh, the Nice list,” Gabriel said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Will what I do in it land me on the Naughty list?” she teased with a wink, replacing the items back in the box.

“That’s all on you, Anastasia,” Gabriel drawled, “If you want to change, the bedroom is in the back, down the hall.”

Anna looked at Gabe, barely licking over her bottom lip. “Okay, Gabriel,” she drawled back to him, “I’ll be right back.” She rose from the couch and started toward the back, wiggling her tush as she stepped past him.

As soon as she was out of the room, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. If he listened closely enough, he could hear the baying of the Hellhounds hundreds of miles away, hunting their prey. He wanted to shield her from all of the mess his family was creating, even if he welcomed it, an end to their constant bickering just like it was planned. So lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear Anna coming back until she was close enough to touch him.

Anna hummed a festive tune as she returned to the living room. She had decided to go ahead and change into the nighty, and cover up with the robe. The soft fur tickled her thighs lightly, adding to her brightened mood. “Well, how does it look?” she asked, standing in front of him.

Lifting his head, he looked startled from his thoughts for a moment before smiling, “Beautiful. Is it warm enough?”

“It actually is. I just need like a blanket for the rest of my legs, and I’ll be all toasty like a marshmallow,” she answered, returning to her seat next to him. She picked up her mug of hot cocoa and took a drink, now that it was more lukewarm than hot.

Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, he draped it over their laps and pressed a kiss against her temple, “There. Safe and snug,” he said quietly.

Anna snuggled up to Gabe’s side and rested her head against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to make up our trip from Christmas. I was okay with waiting until this year to do something,” she said as she sought out his hand under the blanket, “But I love that you did this for me. Thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you, cupcake. You know that,” he said, lifting their joined hands and kissing her knuckles. “Just name it and if it doesn’t reorder the universe then it’s yours.”

.oOo.

They’d spent a lovely evening eating and sipping hot chocolate until a stray drop of the beverage on a lip led to soft kisses. Those kisses grew until there was a whirlwind of touches, sighs and sounds. Gabriel had to admit, after they were both spent, that having sex in front of the fire on a blankets was a bit cliche but he couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be. At least here in his arms, Anna was safe from Lilith and her infernal hounds.

Curled around Anna with her head pillowed on his chest, he gently ran his fingers over her spine, deep in thought and wondering how he would tell her that her friend was gone. It was half past midnight and Dean’s soul would be firmly in the clutches of the damned.

Anna had tried to stay awake, but the day had caught up to her. She’d fallen asleep minutes after the two of them wound up in each other’s arms, the warmth of Gabe and the fire sinking all the way down to her bones.

Her dreams were peaceful images of Gabe and her lounging on a beach in Greece, until they weren’t. She looked up when she heard a familiar voice crying out for help, large sunhat swirling almost comically as she looked for the source. She swore that it had sounded like Dean, but Dean shouting when Sam had gotten hurt. She was about to lay back down when a bloody image flashed next to her. Gasping, she jumped and sat up, pulling off her sunglasses to look again, but all she found was sand. She glanced back to Gabe, but he was gone, and she turned back to look for him, she wasn’t on the beach anymore. She was standing in a dark, putrid dungeon watching someone carving into a man on a slab. Inching closer, the man screamed again, and she gasped seeing it was Dean. The man behind the knife reached into a opening and ripped out what looked like a rib. Anna screamed.

In the cabin, Anna’s nightmare had caused her to whimper in her sleep, until like a switch she was screaming and struggling in Gabe’s arms.

“Anna!...Anastasia!” Gabriel all but shouted her name as he tried to keep a hold of her. He’d felt her sleeping mind shift darker toward a nightmare and had tried to soothe it away. But it had been stronger, sharper, and something he couldn’t penetrate. At least not without burning out her mind, so he was reduced to holding her gently and trying to coax her out of her state with words alone. Until she started shrieking.

Anna’s eyes flew open, but they were wild and unfocused. She ripped herself out of Gabe’s hold and scrambled to the couch, pressing herself as far into the corner as she could. She was still trapped in her nightmare. She stayed pinned against the corner of the dark room, horrified as Dean was tortured in front of her. When he was just a shell, she gasped as a sickening feeling washed over her room, and in a blink Dean was whole and breathing again. The barred door opened and invisible being began to tear at Dean’s body.

Both in dream and in the living, she let out a wail, and buried her head into her arms and knees. She slowly rocked, begging softly to wake up.

Gabriel watched with eyes wide as she cowered on the sofa. He could tell that she was awake but whatever was happening she was still witnessing. Reaching out for her with his grace he caught a glimpse of what she was seeing and knew in that moment she wasn’t having a nightmare. It was a vision.

Without another thought, he crawled up beside her and summoned his angel blade. “It’s okay, Anna. I’m here,” He said quietly as he cut open his finger enough for his vessel to bleed. Pulling back her hair, he started to draw a sigil on her neck in his own blood with quick precise movements and Enochian falling from his lips. If he couldn’t bring her out of the vision, he could block them. At least for a short time.

Anna gasped deeply, her hand snapping out to snap around Gabe’s arm, fingers digging in. She twisted to the side, her grip shaking as if the vision was trying to overcome the spell, but within seconds her whole body when lax, and she sagged forward. She was eerily quiet, save for her panting breaths, while she worked out if she was still dreaming, or if she was awake.

“It’s over, Anna,” Gabriel said calmly and gathered her up into his arms, “You’re safe and sound. Right here. I gotcha… I gotcha.”

Anna exhaled shakily before the tears started flowing. She clung to Gabe for dear life and buried her face into his chest. The nightmare had felt so real that it was like she was actually there. Dean’s screams still echoed in her ears and the smell of blood hung in her nose. “Soo..much...blood,” she muttered through her tears, “So..much..”

Gabriel pressed his cheek against the top of her head and squeezed his eyes shut as he gently rocked her. If what he saw was a fraction of what she experienced, he failed his purpose of keeping her from anything to do with this mess. “I know, Anna,” he sighed, “I didn’t know you were sensitive or that they’d exploit it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Anna focused on Gabe to try to keep her grounded, her sobs now quieted to little gasps. She hadn’t really thought about what he was saying while trying to calm down, but now that her mind had cleared up enough to think, his words confused her. Pulling back to look at him, she looked between his eyes, wheels turning slowly. “What do you mean?” she rasped, “Why are you apologizing?”

Any other time he could have attempted to stand defiant and unwilling to reveal what had happened, even under her piercing gaze. That was before he’d watched her experience Hell and he was powerless to prevent it. He was once a General that commanded thousands of the Host who helped defeat Leviathan, but now a slip of a girl who’d given him love was able to bring him to heel with a look.

“This trip really was supposed to make up for Christmas. Just us and nothing to bother us,” He started quietly, taking her hand in his, “and if it kept you from their plans then it was a bonus.”

Anna sniffled and gently pulled out of his arms. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her torso, suddenly aware of her nakedness. “Are you trying to tell me that...what I saw was real?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Gabriel was eerily quiet and nodded his head. “You’re not a prophet but you saw the pit like no living being has ever seen it.”

Anna ignored the news that prophets were a thing, and focused on the fact that she had dreamt Hell in real time. Was it a dream? A vision? She didn’t know. All she knew is that what she’d seen was terrifying, and hoped that it never happened again.

Pulling the blanket closer, she clutched the soft fabric in her fist. The images flashed across her mind. Meeting Gabe’s eye again, she took a shaky breath. “So Dean…”

“It couldn’t be stopped. He made a deal with a demon in exchange for Sam’s life,” Gabriel answered, squeezing her hand gently.

Anna shook her head and pulled away. “No, there must have been a mistake. I would have known about it. They would have told me. We would have been doing researched for the past 10 years on how to get him out of the deal. To save him. We would have done it already. I would have asked-” She cut herself off when her voice cracked.

Gabriel sank to the carpet when she pulled her hand away from him. This was the moment he’d been avoiding and he wished her own family would have had the balls to do this instead of leaving it in his hands. He was supposed to be a joy to her but now that was probably ruined forever. “A year, Anna. He only had a year,” Gabriel said, “I saw the deal written on his soul and there would have never been a way to break it. Not without killing Sam too.”

Anna stared at Gabriel and her face turned down into a frown. “You knew about it then...You’ve known for a whole year about this, and you didn’t even say anything to me!” she accused, “You don’t know that there couldn’t have been a way! I might have found a way to save him. To save both of them. But it’s too late! It’s too late because now Dean’s dead, and he’s in Hell being ripped apart, and there’s noth..nothing I can do to help.” Her eyes filled to the brim with hot, angry tears.

“One lone human against Heaven and Hell wouldn’t have made a difference.” Gabriel eased up onto the couch beside her. Looking deep into her eyes and he knew then she needed to know what had happened and what was to come, otherwise she’d just find out through these visions, “This whole thing was meant to happen since before any of you were born and they will make sure it comes to pass. Dean and Sam will be the means to bring about the end of the world. My brother Michael possessing Dean and Lucifer possessing Sam.”

Anna shook her head and turned away from him, not wanting to believe anything that he was saying. “Don’t...Gabriel, just stop...it’s..it’s not true,” she tried to convince herself, “That’s not going to happen to them. It can’t.”

“It can. It will.” he insist, “If Dean breaks the first seal it will be. And he will break that seal.” Gabriel dropped his forehead against her shoulder as his hands rested on her waist, voice dropping down to a whisper, “I tried, Anastasia. I tried to keep you safe from it. I love you and my family is so cruel. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because how do I tell the woman that’s meant more to me than any other that my brothers are going to kill everything?”

“Don’t,” Anna hissed as stood and stepped away from him, stumbling a little over the tail of the blanket that was still stuck up on the couch. “Don’t you use your love for me as an excuse for..for lying to me.” This was all too much to have thrown at her at once. Her brain was overloaded and wanting to reject all of this new information. “If I mean so much to you, then you’d have told me all of this already. If your brothers are going to kill everything, aren’t I included in that everything? Or was your plan just to save me, and let everyone else I care about die?”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and dressing himself in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his voice rising slightly in frustration, “Do you really think I planned all this out to get in your pants? That I wanted to love you?” he pushed himself off the couch and started pacing around, “I was perfectly happy being alone and in hiding. Then you had to summon me and be all adorable and sassy. But you don’t tell a little girl barely out of her Daddy’s arms that her world is going to go up in flames. Then you grew up and were happy and if I wanted make sure you were happy, then fine. I’m guilty. I didn’t tell you all my dirty secrets.” Gabriel shoved his hand through his hair, “I was praying to Father that it would never come to this. Not really. That He’d stop it and then you and I could… Now I don’t know what to do but hold on to what I have and hide again if I have to.”

Anna moved across the small space between them, and raised her hand, bringing it down across his face. She stayed stone faced through the pain that ran up into her wrist. She glared at him for a long moment before turning on her heel and stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Safe now that she was alone, she let the rest of her walls crumble, and she curled up under the covers, letting the tears and sobs flow freely. Feelings she hadn’t felt since prom night started to resurface, and she clutched her pillow closer.

He hadn’t expected her to hit him. It hurt his pride more than anything and left him stunned as he watched her retreat to the bedroom. Not until the door slamming against the frame did he break out of his stupor and look around. The cheerful fire and decorations seemed like a mockery now. He didn’t even bother to snap to make the tinsel and tree vanish like they’d never been there.

Standing in front of the bay window as the final blizzard of the year raged in the mountains around them, tears started to roll down his cheeks. There were three times in all of history that Gabriel had ever felt this low. The first he couldn’t even remember, not fully. He’d been too young. The second was the day that Lucifer was cast into the Pit and never to return. The third was today. He was sure that after today Anna would send him away and choose to face the Apocalypse or worse, try to stop it. Either way he’d lose her.

Anna’s eyes soon ran dry, and she was left with nothing but sound of the storm outside, and her own soft hiccups to block out her thoughts. They weren’t loud enough. Their argument replayed over in her mind, right up to when she’d slapped him, and stormed off. She was sure that this was the end for them. She’d finally regain her strength and she would go out to him, and he’d tell her that their relationship was just too much work, and he’d snap his fingers so she was back home.

It wasn’t until the clock on the mantle started to chime it’s announcement of the ungodly hour of the morning and the first rays of dawn started to appear that Gabriel wiped his cheeks dry. If she was going to leave him it’d be best for both of them if it was done quickly. Turning, he headed to the bedroom and decided against barging into the room, instead he knocked gently.

She was so tired, the events of the night weighing heavy on her eyelids, but every time she closed her eye, all she could see was Dean being tortured and she was awake again. The knock on the door shocked her out of her current state of half-slumber, and she sat up slowly. This was it. He was going to come in and tell her to leave and never call for him again. “Hold on,” she called out, voice rough. She quickly dressed in the pajamas she’d brought with her and returned to the bed. “Come in.”

Gabriel eased into the room and shut the door behind him. Walking across the room to the bed, he stood at the foot with his hands stuffed in his pockets, “I’ve been doing some thinking and after everything that’s happened I’ll understand if you want to go home. I’ll miss you and I won’t stop caring about you but if you want me to stay away, I’ll respect your choice. It’s the least I can do.”

Anna watched him enter room, but turned her eyes to her lap as he spoke, not wanting to look at him when he told her to get out. But that didn’t quite happen. Finally turning her gaze up to meet his, she looked between his eyes, as if trying to find the answer to her unspoken question in them. “Do you want me to go home?” she asked.

“No,” he answered simply before sitting on the edge of the bed, “I think that’s how I got us in this mess. I didn’t want to let you go, but I won’t stop you if it’s what you really want.”

She didn’t move from her spot when he sat down, but they were now close. Knee to thigh close. “I don’t want to,” she said, then confirmed, “I don’t want to leave you.”

Gabriel turned his head and studied her for a moment, looking for some indication that she didn’t mean what she said. “Say it again?” he asked softly.

Anna reached out and placed her hand on his knee. “I don’t want to leave you, Gabriel,” she repeated, “I love you too much to ever want to leave.” She raised her hand and gently brushed her fingers over the cheek that she’d struck. You’d never know she’d done it if it wasn’t for the small scratch across his cheekbone. “I’m sorry for hitting you. I shouldn’t have ever done it.”

“I’ve been slapped before. Maybe for more fun reasons, but… “ Gabriel said with a wane smile, “At least you didn’t stab me.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it. I even scratched you,” she protested, starting to look a little distraught.

Gabriel lifted his hand to touch his cheek. Pulling his finger away he saw a few flakes of dried blood. He hadn’t even noticed it’d happened otherwise he would have healed it by now. Looking up he saw her looking miserable for such a small injury. Leaning forward and kissing the end of her nose, he pulled her into his lap as the scratch healed itself.

Anna let her hands rest against his shoulders and examined the spot where the scratch had been. She brushed away the leftover small flakes of dried blood before leaning in and kissing the spot. She placed a few more kissed on his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry that I got so upset…”

“You saw Hell itself and then I laid a bunch on you,” Gabriel whispered to her and kissed her temple.

Anna pulled back to look at him, she spoke, “I do have something I want to say, but I don’t want you to interrupt me.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

She pulled his hands so they rested in front of her, and held them in hers. “Gabriel, no matter what happens between us, I want you to know that I’ll always love you, and that I’ll never leave you unless you wish it. I think that maybe we should consider discussing some of our darker secrets so that arguments like the one we had won’t happen again.” She brought his hands up to place kisses on his knuckles.

Gabriel took a deep breath and nodded, “I’ll agree to that but my stories might take a long time to tell.”

Anna gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “I still want to hear about them. To know more about you,” she smiled softly up at him.

“Alright,” Gabriel agreed, “But you need to get some sleep first. It’s been a really long night.”

At the mention of sleep, her smile wavered. “I'm fine. I took a couple short naps earlier,” she fibbed.

Knowing her well enough to tell when she was covering up, Gabriel brushed the hair from her face as he asked, “Having flashbacks?”

She looked down to the collar of his shirt and nodded, then shrugged. “I can't stop seeing it,” she admitted, “And I'm afraid of what else I'm going to see when I do fall asleep. He…” Anna clenched her jaw and shook her head a little. “I can't fall asleep anyway. I keep waking myself up.”

“Lay down with me anyway,” Gabriel said as he pulled off his t-shirt, “Resting is better than nothing.”

Anna nodded and moved off of his lap. She scooted to the middle of the bed and slipped under the blanket. She'd suddenly gotten a chill, and she blamed the storm outside. Shuffling down, she settled into the pillows and waited for him to join her.

He turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into the bed. Gathering her up into his arms, he made sure that they were both well covered before using his grace to block out the the memory of her vision and hopefully stop her from receiving any new images. Once they were settled, he confessed one of the thoughts he’d had while staring at the snow, “I’ll take you and your father to Asgard if need be. You’ll be safe. And then you and me could… we could be together.”

Being back in his arms this way was a better comfort than just the blanket could provide. She could already feel her eyes growing heavy from her exhaustion. When she closed her eyes, there were no horrid images, just sweet darkness.

Hearing him speak, she forced herself to stay awake long enough to hear what he had to say. Taking his hand and twining their fingers together between them, she squeezed his fingers. “Will we get to meet Thor and Odin?” the barest of teasing smiles on her lips.

“Yes, but they don’t look anything like they do in the movies,” Gabriel snorted, “I’m the cutest out of the lot of them.”

She hummed her amusement. “I don't doubt that for a second,” she said, her speech starting to trail off at the end, “Are there any single older women up there?”

“A few, but if you’re asking for yourself, the Valkyrie will love you but they’ll have to fight me for a night with you,” Gabriel teased, “I don’t share easily.”

Anna smiled and tapped his fingers. “While that seems like an interesting time, I meant for my dad.”

“Valkyries would eat him up. Then again, he might like it.” Gabriel pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “Try to sleep, Anastasia. We can fix your Dad up later.”

Anna chuckled and large yawn caught her off guard. “Okay. Sounds good to me,” she agreed. Closing her eyes once again she whispered, “Night Gabby.”

Even though she couldn’t see them, Gabriel draped his wings over her and held on tight, determined to protect her even from the nightmares in her head, “Sleep well, Cupcake. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Anna finally allowed herself to get some sleep, knowing she was safe in Gabe's arms. Her darkness shifted into a peaceful dream about the two of them on a road trip through purple fields of lavender.

#Madamelibrarian writing with friends #Supernatural #Fanfiction #spn fanfic #Gabriel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s)#Gabriel #original female character

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fresh-outta-jams · 6 years

Text

Pink Camellias

Merman!Seokjin x Reader

Author: Admin Mo Word Count: 2,803 Genre: Fluff, Fantasy!AU

Jin sat in the fountain in the courtyard of Magus, watching the supernatural creatures walking to and from classes about the strange and magical world they lived in. He had the day off, and as he did most days, he sat in the shallow waters, his iridescent pink tail hanging over the edge and a shell-covered mirror gripped in one of his hands.

His irises glimmered as he looked over his reflection, carefully adjusting the soft brown hair on top of his head and rubbing some salt water on the scales on his forehead and cheekbones to make them sparkle. He was hoping, praying that maybe they would catch the glance of a certain-

“Hey there, Ariel.” You sat on the edge of the fountain with two lunches in paper bags. “I brought peanut butter and jelly.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He shook the water off of his hand and opened the bag you slid to him. “How was your day?”

“It was okay. Everyone’s talking about that stupid cotillion.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Of course, the one person you wanted to go to the dance with didn’t have legs. “I don’t even want to go at this point.”

“You should go. It’ll be fun.”

“What, and leave you in your dorm all alone? Nah. Doesn’t sound like very much fun.” You took a bite of your sandwich, muffling your words. “I could buy a kiddie pool and we could hang out in my dorm. It’s practically a greenhouse in there, so you wouldn’t dry out.”

“Tempting.” He grinned. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to mess with sirens?”

“Well, my mother is Persephone, so the only person she told me to stay away from is the demon at the front gate of the underworld.”

“Interesting.”

“And besides, you’re not a siren.” You reached out and pushed his soft lip aside, revealing teeth like a human’s instead of teeth like a shark. It was the telltale sign. They both had beautiful voices, beautiful faces, but sirens existed only to tempt. Only to kill. Only to betray those who were stupid enough to fall in love with them. No, Jin was no siren. He was a mermaid. And a handsome one at that. “You’re a merman.”

“And you’re a goddess.” He murmured, completely captivated by the way your finger gently brushed against his lip.

“Demi-goddess.” You chimed. You felt something creeping up your ankle and looked down at the flowers steadily taking form.

“What are you growing today?” He chuckled. This happened sometimes when you got lost in thought. It was like the world was trying to tell you something, or rather, your powers over plants and nature were working to reveal your true emotions. Your only saving grace was that Jin, as a creature of the sea, didn’t speak the language of the flowers.

“By the looks of it, Gardenia.” You identified the white flowers as more sprouted up. “And Pink Camellia.” Of course. Secret Love and Longing for You. The flowers formed a ring, so you lifted it off of the ground and set it in his soft brown locks. “There. Now you’re a flower prince too.”

“What do they mean?” he asked curiously. “Don’t flowers have meanings or something?”

“Oh…” Your cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not really sure. I’ll have to look it up later.”

“Tell him.” The flowers on his head whispered. “Tell him you love him.”

But you ignored them, instead refocusing on your lunch and the flecks of gold swimming around his brown irises. God, did he have to be so handsome? Jin, with his broad shoulders and the voice of an angel; a face that would make sculptors weep at the sight of true beauty, perfectly crafted by Poseidon.

“You should wear this. To the cotillion.” He was holding out a string of pearls. “I think it’d go with your dress.” He was right.

“Are you sure?” You asked, but to answer, Jin just took your smaller hands in his own and curled your fingers around the necklace.

“Positive. Go. For me. Please?”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Fine. I will.”

“Good.” He smiled and your heart leapt.

Daffodils coiled around your wrists and you jumped, looking at them. ~The Sun Is Always Shining When I’m With You. Good lord, if these fricking flowers didn’t leave you alone…

Jin laughed his windshield-wiper laugh. You were convinced he had spent too much time with the dolphins and maybe that was why he laughed like that. But it only made you love him more.

“I have to go. I have a test in Herbology.” You gathered your things, handing Jin the flowers. “But I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Thanks for lunch. And send me pictures. I want to see how beautiful you look tomorrow.”

An explosion of Red Camellias sprang up around the fountain, further flustering you. ~You’re A Flame In My Heart.

“I will.” You nodded. “Bye Jin.”

“Bye.” He waved as you walked away, his brown eyes lingering on your ever-shrinking form as you walked through the courtyard and into the greenhouse. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to have legs. Hmm...That gave him an idea…

***

“Yoongi?” Jin was swimming in his large tank in his and Yoongi’s shared dorm later that evening, his pink tail swishing through the clear waters. His chin was resting in his hands, elbows propped up on the top of the glass enclosement. “You know how I never ask you for anything ever?”

“Why do I have a feeling you need something?” The tired warlock groaned, stirring the potion he was just finishing brewing. He ladled the green liquid into a bottle and put out the fire under his cauldron with a flick of his wrist.

“Well, the cotillion is tomorrow, so I was wondering if maaaaaaaybe-”

“Let me guess; you want legs?”

“Yes…” The merman admitted.

“Ughhhhhh…” Yoongi wiped the sleep out of his eyes and took a long sip of his coffee, preparing for yet another all-nighter. “You’re lucky I like you.”

***

You remembered the day you first met Jin. You were walking through the courtyard, a map of the school in your hands and a lost expression on your face when you heard the voice coming from the fountain.

“Do you need help?” He asked kindly, leaning over the edge, his hands still dripping with water.

“I do, actually. I’m pretty lost-” And when you looked up at him, Gloxinia tickled at your ankles. ~Love At First Sight.

You knew you were screwed right then and there. From the time you were a young girl and your father, a human botanist, had pulled you into his lap to study flowers and their meanings, nature began to talk to you, both figuratively and literally. They would whisper to you when you wore them in your hair, compliment you when you spritzed them with water or got rid of the wicked weeds rooted in the garden.

And now that you were in love with a merman, they were relentless.

“Tell him how you feeeeeeeeeel~” They sang as you put on your dress for the cotillion. Maybe wearing a crown of them was a bad idea, but when another ring of Gardenias and Pink Camellias sprung up, you couldn’t resist how well they looked with the floral gown you had picked.

“I can’t do that. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t know until you tryyyyyy~”

“Could you please be quiet?” You begged. And they respected your wishes, quieting down as you reached for the necklace Jin had given you and fastened the clasp behind your neck. You looked in your reflection. You did look beautiful. Jin was right. But you wished he was here.

You shook your head and snapped a picture, sending it to him as you had promised you would. He sent back a reply in a few seconds.

*Truly stunning*

You almost weren’t surprised when the Red Camellias sprang up.

***

“Look at her. She’s stunning.” Jin handed his phone to Hoseok, his favorite Leprechaun, who had just taken his growth pill and was now standing much higher than his usual six inches.

“And she’s all yours, whether she knows it or not.”

“I wish.”

“Hey. Careful with that word.” Jungkook, the half-dragon and former genie pointed at the merman, his orange eyes glinting with the memories of hundreds of wishes. “That’s a powerful word.”

“We get it, we get it, you used to be a genie. Chill.” Yoongi batted a tired hand and handed Jin the bottle of the potion he had spent all night brewing. “Drink up, my friend. But, you should know that there are side effects and conditions…”

“Hmm?” The bottle was already against his lips, the purple liquid making its way down his throat. He opened his mouth to ask something more, but no sound came out. His eyes widened and he held his neck.

“Yep. That would be one of them.” Yoongi looked up at the merman.

Jin gripped the edge of the tank as a burning sensation tore through his tail. It split in half, and his fins took on a new shape, heels and toes taking the place of the pink flippers. Thankfully, the potion had also allotted him a pair of briefs, or things in the dorm would have gotten very awkward very fast.

He vaulted over the glass wall and landed on the wooden floor in a soaking wet half-naked heap. His wide shoulders heaved a few times as he sat there, looking over the strange new limbs. He had so many toes. And his feet were...feet. Like, real human feet. He stood up, but his new legs wobbled like jello and he stumbled into Hoseok, who was laughing at the ordeal.

“Okay, so, you can’t talk.” Yoongi pulled out the scroll and his eyes widened. “Aishhhhh, why did I keep them so close together?!”

“What did you do to him?” Jungkook asked, concern ablaze in his fiery eyes.

“So, this is the older spell. The uh, the bad one. Okay, so you’ve gotta get her to kiss you. But you have three days. It’s fine. I believe in you.”

‘I have to WHAT?!’ Jin mouthed, the look on his face doing more than enough to display his shock.

“We’ve got your back.” Jungkook hopped up to the occasion and struck a pose, but even the half-dragon’s playful antics didn’t put the wobbly merman at ease.

Jin inhaled a deep breath. He had a feeling tonight was going to be a little more than he had bargained for.

***

You were sitting at the fountain in the courtyard, hoping that maybe Jin would be there, but he wasn’t. You knew he wouldn’t be. He was definitely in his dorm. But you thought...well, you just had to make sure.

So, after sitting there for a few minutes, you stood up, straightened your skirt, and started walking to the pavilion they were holding the cotillion in. Someone tapped on your shoulder just before you reached the entrance, where the tall wooden structure was wrapped in fairy lights.

You turned to face...Jin? He smiled sheepishly, holding a little plastic box with a corsage in it. You couldn’t get enough of him, standing there in his nice suit with a tie that matched your dress.

“You’re here.”

He nodded.

“On legs.”

He nodded again. You waited for him to say something, but he simply poked at his throat and shook his head. You remembered the mortal fairytales your father read to you as a child. Among them, one about a mermaid who traded her voice for the things Jin was currently standing on.

“For me?” You whispered, the crack in your voice giving way to how you were truly feeling.

Jin nodded and wrapped the corsage around your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips and leaving a gentle kiss there.

“Oh, Jin…” You pulled him into your arms and he held you tight, not taking this for granted for one second.

His smile was blinding and before you could say or do anything else, he tugged you onto the dancefloor, spinning you around like he had always seen the mortals do. He was awkward on legs. You could definitely tell it was his first night using them, but he still had fun, even if you couldn’t hear his beautiful laugh or his angelic voice. Maybe missing something was the only way to really appreciate how much it meant to you. And you did miss his voice. A lot.

When it started to get dark and the songs started to get slower, you led Jin out to the gazebo in the grass. It was illuminated with leftover Christmas lights and little lanterns and candles. Simple, but sweet, and as warm as the feelings swimming around your heart.

Jin pulled you close, kissing your forehead. You rested your head against his chest and exhaled a long breath, soaking up his warmth like a sponge. You were so absorbed that you didn’t even notice the mistletoe steadily creeping up the sides of the gazebo until a single strand dangled from the roof.

The merman looked up, his eyes widening. Flowers and plants did have meanings, he realized. And this one meant ‘Kiss Me’. He gently nudged you and motioned up. Your cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment, cursing the flowers that always seemed to sprout from your emotions. Jin may not have spoken flower language, but everyone knew what this plant meant.

“I am so sorry.” You apologized. “It happens all the time and I didn’t want to tell you what they meant because I didn’t want to creep you out, but...”

You stopped talking when you noticed Jin take a little breath, closing his eyes and slowly leaning down. He wanted to kiss you too. He. Wanted. To. Kiss. You. Too.

‘Kiss himmmmmmmm~’ The mistletoe hissed. ‘Kiss himmmmm~’

So you did. His lips crashed onto yours like waves onto the shore, tenderly caressing yours. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you closer as you tangled your fingers in his soft brown locks.

It was perfect. Until he let out a little yelp and fell over with a loud thud, his pink tail having reemerged and replaced his legs. He laid there, leaning on his elbows, laughing louder than you had ever heard him laugh before.

“Oops.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, unable to do much more than sit there while you knelt down beside him. He brushed the hair out of your face and looked at the flowers sitting on top of your head, softly asking, “So what do they mean?”

“Gardenias mean ‘Secret Love’.” You admitted, cheeks darkening. “And Pink Camellias are ‘Longing for You’.”

“And the yellow ones?”

“Yellow ones?” You asked. Jin pointed to the new flowers sprouting from behind your ear. You pulled them off to look, a soft smile spreading over your features. He smiled too, stars gleaming in his warm brown gaze.

“Ambrosia. It means...it means you love me back.”

“Well, they’re not lying, are they?” He reached out and gently stroked your cheek, leaning in for more.

“I brought mistletoe!” Jungkook ran onto the gazebo, and then looked down at Jin, who had definitely kissed you already or he wouldn’t have his tail.

“I handled it.” Jin told the half-dragon, tilting his head in a way that said ‘get out’.

“Right. Okay. I’ll let the others know.” Jungkook tried to hide the giant grin that found his face, realizing what this meant. Jin had finally done it. He had finally confessed to you. Or maybe the other way around.

“What was that about?” You chuckled.

“Well, I almost ended up as sea foam, but it all worked out.” He looked at you for a reaction, and boy did he get one.

Your eyes widened and the color drained from your face. “Oh my gods, why would you do something like that?! Why...why would you risk that?”

“It was an accident, I promise. Yoongi mixed up the scrolls.” He tried to be reassuring, but in all honesty, he hadn’t known there was another spell they could have used. He thought it was seafoam or nothing, and he was still willing to risk it.

“Jin…” You took his hand in yours. “Please promise me next time we’ll just talk to eachother instead of putting your life on the line.”

“I promise.” He nodded and pulled you down for another kiss. “But um, I’m kind of stuck here until we can get Yoongi to summon a wagon or something.”

You set your flower crown on the ground next to you and laid down beside him, letting him wrap an arm around your waist. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.”

Link to Sequel in Masterlist

#kpopwonderlandtag #jin #jin x reader #jin imagine #seokjin #seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #kim seokjin #bts v #bts imagine #fluff #fantasy au

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