#I could use a night of dancing in the woods under the moonlight

[kell-stitches]

Got an email today that the trees bought with the donations from the embroidery sale have been planted! Now let's start a petition for a TAD concert in the forest we all helped plant 💖

[theold-ultraviolence]

The Bard and the Sorceress

summary: Eddie makes up a bedtime story of how your baby was conceived, to your pregnant belly. CW: established relationship, dad!Eddie x pregnant!reader, 'she/her' pronouns used. Brief mentions of a first miscarriage (not graphically described), alluded smut. Let me know if I missed anything! word count: 1.7k

“Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen… – Wait, no, no, no. A knight and a princess!” 

You giggle, head tilting back against the pillows in delight, as Eddie’s plush lips brush against your skin, as delicate as clouds. He’s gazing at you from his spot by the foot of the bed, with those golden eyes and a dimply grin that rival the sunshine – a combination seen in your dreams, reflected on another tiny being.  

“No, no, no, no, wait, no – a bard and a sorceress…” he winks as he puts on his raspy dungeon master voice and slyly raises his eyebrows.  

“That’s more like it. Alright! – once upon a time, there was a bard and a sorceress, who lived blissfully in their cottage, far out in the forest that surrounded an ancient kingdom…” 

Eddie’s murmurs wrap around your heart like the safest of embraces. His warm breath swirls among the broad expanse of your pregnant belly like the embers of a fire on a cold winter night; his curls caress the stretched skin, like petals falling on a soft bed of grass; his callused fingers trace the stretchmarks and sore spots reverently, trying to make up the outline of the baby that he imagines is sleeping soundly within you. 

Your shared bedroom is bathed in mellow, honeyed light coming from the bedside lamp, as you lay among freshly washed sheets to relax you, and pillows that are perfumed with the heavenly scent of your and Eddie’s skin. You’ve got your t-shirt rolled up beneath your breasts, with your belly being warmed by Eddie’s cheek, which longingly rests there as he talks.

“The bard and the sorceress didn’t have much to their names, but they had love. Endless love.”

Eddie begins his tale, ever the storyteller, able to breathe life into entire realms in the spur of the moment. You grin as you imagine your child in the near future, being lulled to sleep as her father spins endless, magical adventures, just for her. 

“The bard would sing as the moonlight shone under the sorcerer, who danced in the woods to the beat of the night. Together they created magic, their sounds of love made a symphony that rivaled that of the wolves and nightbirds. And from that magic, a little bud grew within the sorceress.” 

Your eyes wander aimlessly all over the room, getting lost in the coils at the crown of Eddie’s head as you remember how all of this came to be. How the conversation of children had been had so long ago, only then it had been agreed that you’d wait until after you got married and had a little bit more to your name than a shitty apartment you could barely afford with Eddie balancing out his job at Thatcher tire and teaching music on the side, and you begging people to buy your paintings while you taught art at the youth center. 

But, there was one day, when you just couldn’t pry your hands away from each other; when there came rounds and rounds and rounds of rough, primal, feverish need that left you both desperate and drenched, throbbing, aching, and hungry for more, more, more. 

You were gonna have a child anyway, so why wait? You begged Eddie to fill you in the way no one else would ever do until you could feel his essence stuffing you to the brim, Eddie’s being making a home inside yourself. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he filled you again the next day, onto the next week. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Those days, you were both so elated, feeling invincible and high without taking a single hit. It truly was like magic, which burst out with sparks the day you took that first pregnancy test and it came back positive. 

“The sorceress saw the face of that little bud, as clear as day, in her cauldron of clairvoyance.” 

You exchange a grin as you remember endless conversations before falling asleep, sharing how you were both so certain it would be a girl. 

“...And I wanna name her Elizabeth, like your mom…” you had murmured so long ago, while tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, your heart folding over the way his eyes teared up with gratitude when you said that.  

He grinned through the rivers that traversed his cheeks, nodding as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh yeah? You’d do that for me? You’re gonna give me another little Lizzie Munson?”

And even through his cracking voice, he had poked your sides to tickle you so you wouldn’t call him out for crying – making you wrap your arms around him and kiss him silly until your tears were replaced with bubbling giggles. 

“The bard wrote songs for it, lullabies to help it grow,” Eddie continues. “The sorceress prayed every night to the mother goddess of the woods, swearing the little bud would be named in her honor. All was well, all was right. Until a dreadful night when they were awoken by a banshee’s shriek. The bud was gone!” 

Your fingers halt their caress around Eddie’s curls, as the memory never fails to make your heart shudder, as if out without proper cover on a cruel, arctic night. You hadn’t done anything wrong at all, and the doctors said it was normal for a first-time pregnancy. It didn’t make it any less tragic for you, having woken one night, to the horror of your bedsheets stained with blood. 

“The bard and the sorceress lamented its loss for days and nights. What had they done? They had nurtured it with all the love in their bodies; the sorceress had woven garments to keep it cozy during the winter, and the bard wrote sonnets to make its mind spin like dandelions in the wind.” 

When you came back from the hospital, you swore you’d honor the original plan of waiting until after getting married. You gave yourselves a whole week to just be sad, doing nothing but napping and staying in bed watching silly movies. You even started a little diary where you wrote the things you looked forward to doing with your child once they came back to you – first missing tooth, first trip to Disneyland, first words, first day of school… 

Eddie grabs your hand then, recognizing where your mind had wandered off to, giving it three little squeezes – to signify ‘I love you’ without words. He stops his tale to give your bellybutton a little kiss, nuzzling his cheek against your skin and breathing in deeply, as if reassuring himself that those memories were a thing of the past. 

That the present was far more beautiful – kicking his face and making him snort and chuckle, saying “Alright, alright, you want your papi to continue, I get it!”  

You laugh brightly, and resume your toying with Eddie’s hair as he clears his throat exagerateddly before continuing. 

“In their period of mourning, the sorceress sought answers from her cauldron, and was soothed by the revelation she came upon. There in the iridescent liquid, the face of the bud became clear again, enveloped by tender, wise hands. A whisper came in with the gust of wind entering through the opened window. It was the mother goddess! whose soothing voice assured the sorceress that their little bud would be safe with her – that she would take care of it until the time was right for it to rejoin the couple. Many spring suns rose before the sorceress felt the kick of life within her once again, growing stronger each day, with the blessing of the mother goddess.” 

“ – and you know who that is?” Eddie breaks the narrative to speak directly to the baby that’s been kicking eagerly through the rest of Eddie’s tale. He taps his finger gently to the spot that seems to jut out with each kick, with a goofy lovesick grin on his face. Still amused as hell because he says it looks like a scene from Alien. 

“That’s you, baby!” You double over in laughter when he blows a raspberry to your belly, retaliating all the kicks he felt against his cheek during your tale “That’s you, my precious girl!” he coos between snorting chuckles and tickles that make you both roll around in bed. 

“-- Stop, stop stop!!” You wheeze as you try to push Eddie away from you, making him redirect his attack to the side of your neck. 

He fits himself behind your body, with his arm all snug around your belly until your laughter dies down, to the gentle rhythm of his hand rubbing circles along the shape of you, and those dewdrop kisses that turn into gentle licks that have you sighing contently, melting into the bed. 

Only Eddie could have you swooning with innocent tenderness one moment, to then have you gasping for breath the other, as his hand trails over your curves and his palm squeezes your breast. He lets out a soft groan every time, delighting in the way they feel heavier in their palm, way more sensitive as his thumb lightly fondles your throbbing nipple. 

“What say thee, my beloved sorceress, wanna make more magic tonight?” You can’t help but chuckle and blush over such a corny line delivered so seriously through that low growl coming right from Eddie’s chest. 

“You’re so stupid” You playfully push his face away from your neck just to egg him on, and he gladly takes the challenge, encasing you in his arms and kissing you all over like an overeager puppy. 

And what could you say? It takes a certain kind of magic to transform laughter into whines of pleasure, to cries of newborn life.  

That’s what you ponder, a month later, gazing tiredly from your hospital bed to the sight beside you. Eddie rocking your baby in his arms, with a grin as luminous as the moonlight.

He’s kissing Elizabeth’s delicate head, whispering the continuation of The Bard and the Sorceress.

[hunnylagoon]

Wayfaring Stranger

PREMISE: After your husband refuses to check a concerning sound outside, you do it yourself only to find a beautiful stranger bloodied up on the beaten road beneath moonlight. The events that follow soon after turn your once quiet world on its head.

DISCONTINUED

A/N: Forgive me if there are typos or confusing sentences. I was high asf writing this and I am high asf posting this. I have a series outline posted on my page right before this post, idk how link it, I’ll figure it out sometime. I’m releasing another Ellie fic tomorrow, it’s a modern AU and will be two parts. As always, thanks for reading!

WARNING: Murder, mentions of violence and injuries

The night hung heavy over the isolated homestead, a sea of inky darkness punctuated only by the sparse glow of stars scattered across the expansive canvas of the western sky. You, wrapped in a weathered shawl, stepped cautiously onto the creaking wood floorboards leading to your bedroom window. The pristine planks groaned under the subtle weight of your movement, echoing through the stillness of the night. "Sawyer, did you hear that?" You ask, turning your head to look at your husband who lay with his back to you, His blonde curls falling upon the satin pillowcases. "Sawyer!" You hiss, trying to capture his attention.

"It's just some cattle," He dismissed, not bothering to look at you; in fact, he pulled the covers even farther up his figure to conceal himself from you.

"Can you go look?"

"Why would I do that?" He groaned, it was a genuine question. He couldn't figure out why you would want to investigate a concerning sound.

"Because it sounded like gunshots and screaming, someone could be hurt!"

"All the more reason to stay inside."

"Well, I'm going to go see what it is if you refuse to." You spat, grabbing the oil lamp from the bedside stand and using your shawl to clear it of debris. You swipe a match across its box, watching it ignite, small sparks dancing around your fingertips. You move the match to light the exposed part of the wick before blowing it out and discarding it on the spruce floors.

"Okay, don't get hurt," He said flat, nuzzling back into the feather pillows.

A solitary oil lamp, its flame shifting with every step, cast feeble shadows that clung to the edges of the wall like silent sentinels. Under the flickering light, you made your way down the stairs and slipped on a pair of worn leather boots, dusty from the day's toil. As your boots met the uneven wooden surface of the porch, you shivered, you hadn't anticipated just how cold it would be.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of sagebrush and the distant whispers of the unseen nocturnal creatures that inhabited the wilderness. A coyote's distant howl painted the night with an eerie soundtrack, a reminder that the untamed landscape surrounding your home was both beautiful and treacherous.

As you descended the porch steps, your eyes, accustomed to the darkness, scanned the horizon. The landscape unfolded before you in nothing but shadows and silhouettes, the distant outlines of distant hills and mesas barely visible beneath the cosmic tableau above. The isolation of your homestead, far removed from the flickering lights of the town, cocooned you in an otherworldly silence, a solitude that carried the weight of the untamed frontier.

You looked back towards your home as you moved down the dirt road; weathered limestone walls, adorned with ornate ironwork, bore witness to years of harsh sun, and dust storms, though the relentless passage of time wasn't easy to spot as Sawyer had constant maintenance on it. Standing proudly against the dark backdrop of endless prairie, the mansion's presence was a testament to opulence in the rugged west. The home sat on the top of a hill, the trip down being somewhat steep, though the main path was easy to trek, other ways down would send you tumbling.

A soft breeze rustled through the grass dunes, creating a gentle whistle that you liked to believe carried every secret ever whispered in the town.

With a deep breath, you ventured beyond the perimeter of the homestead, your silhouette becoming one with the night. The crunch of your footsteps on the gravel path echoed faintly, a lullaby for the wilderness that watched over you. You move with hesitation, trying to consider that your husband may be right and you should've ignored the clash and tucked yourself back into the king-sized bed, despite this, you keep moving, leaving only the echoes of your presence behind.

You were surrounded by almost nothing but darkness, you could only see the shapes of rocks and cacti reflecting the moonlight along with whatever was immediately around you, thanks to the shine of the oil lamp.

Writhing in the rocky dirt path you saw a figure. It hadn't been an animal or an article of clothing that somehow found its way to you, it had been the slender silhouette of a person, just as you suspected, someone was hurt. As you carefully approached you could hear their shaky breathes that made you sure it was a woman. Her chest rose and sunk as she shuddered in the cold air; she was soaked through with blood, you had never seen someone in worse shape. "Ma'am?" You ask, your heartbeat speeding up. She looked visibly startled, trying to grip the ground and crawl away from you out of fear. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, I can help you." Your eyebrows furrowed in skepticism at the sight before you.

"No," She shook her head, the woman could hardly get words out of her mouth, just ragged breaths.

"You're shivering," You slowly crouched down, gingerly sitting her up, she winced in pain when you did so "I'm sorry," You hooked an arm around her waist while she slid an arm behind your shoulders, she used her other arm to clutch at a wound in her stomach, you ignored your shaking at her additional weight leaning against your own, you just had to get her up the hill. "SAWYER!" You shouted as loud as your lungs allowed you "SAWYER!" You screamed again, waiting for your husband to be standing on the porch.

You hauled the woman to your porch just as Sawyer finally emerged "What do you- WHAT IS HAPPENING!" His annoyance quickly turned to panic when he saw who was clinging onto you, behind him the door was hanging open letting the light from the foyer break apart some of the darkness. In the light other than the moon you finally got a better look at her. You couldn't even tell what colour her hair was beneath the blood matting it to her head, streaks of red ran down her freckled face and soaked almost every inch of clothing she adorned.

"Ride into town, get the doctor and bring him back here." You ordered, pushing past him, into the living room where you laid her gingerly onto the white gold crested sofa, feeling relief of the added weight gone.

"Well, there goes my coach-

"Sawyer!" You yell again, urging him to leave, he finally does, slamming the door behind him. You run around, hastily lighting candles to brighten the room; you bring a bucket of clean water to her side, drenching a rag in the water, you bring it to her face and begin to wipe away the blood. You noticed her shudder at the touch of cold water on her raw flesh "It's okay," You muttered, in an attempt to comfort her. You weren't quite sure what to say, she must've been terrified but it's not like you were feeling okay with the whole situation, you just didn't want to worsen anything.

More than anything, you wanted to know what had happened to this woman. Of course, you weren't going to ask at that moment, you didn't have to ask though, it's like she read your mind.

"I'm, Ellie," She said between ragged heaves. Just when you were beginning to make up your own backstory for the wayfaring stranger. The picture you had formed in your mind was that her name was Maybelle and she had taken a loan from a gang, and gotten herself into some serious trouble. Nope. Her name was Ellie and what was most logical was that she had been robbed by bandits.

You smile softly, trying to put her at ease. You thought back to all of the ways your mother used to calm you and your little sister "Well, Ellie, doctors gonna be here any minute and you'll be stitched up, good."

Ellie could've sworn that she made you up inside her head. She had heard stories of people on the brink of death imagining an angel guiding them to security just to be told when they recovered that person never existed. She was sure that she would get some rest and would wake up in some clinic with you nowhere to be found. You looked like an angel too, features illuminated in the soft candlelight. "Are you real?"

Her words had you thinking she was ebbing closer to the brink of death, blood loss making her woozy. "I sure am," You said, indulging her "I can tell from your accent that you're from as far west as west goes."

"That you would be right about, ma'am," She smiled with half-lidded eyes, her head lulling back and forth from the spot it rested on the sofa arm.

You soaked the cloth again, wringing it out in the bucket, the once clear water already becoming a foggy reddish hue. You used your free hand to push hair away from Ellie's face, with your other hand you held the cloth and gently wiped the blood from her forehead, clearing the way for you to see more of her freckles. "There we go," You moved your free hand to the back of her head to support it, now using the rag to wash away at the grime on her cheeks and button nose. "I can finally see that pretty face."

"pretty," She murmured, eyelids fluttering.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls like ghostly spectres, and the air hung heavy with the metallic scent of blood. The wounded figure lay sprawled on the once pristine white sofa, the echo of a recent struggle still reverberating through the stillness. Moonlight filtered through tattered curtains, casting an eerie glow on the scene of desperation.

A crimson pool formed beneath Ellie, soaking into Sawyer's beloved couch. The rhythmic breathing echoed in the silence, a macabre lullaby that seemed to accompany the fading pulse of life. Ellie against the encroaching darkness, the battle for consciousness etched across a face pale and drawn.

Every breath was a laborious effort, a struggle against the body's betrayal. Her once vibrant eyes, now dull and distant, glistened with a mixture of pain and determination. Beads of sweat clung to a furrowed brow, evidence of the fevered fight within.

Trembling hands clutched at the wound, desperate to stem the relentless flow of a life's essence escaping through her fingers. Each heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain through the body, threatening to pull the fragile thread of consciousness even thinner. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of mortality, and every passing moment whispered of the inevitability of the abyss.

Amid this struggle, fragmented memories flickered like distant stars in a fading night sky. Faces and places, fragments of life now hanging in the balance, flashed before weary eyes. The pulse, once strong and steady, faltered like a distant drumbeat threatening to fade into silence.

Yet, amidst the darkness, a fierce will to survive burned like a defiant flame. The wounded soul summoned reserves of strength, drawing upon reserves untapped in ordinary times. Each laboured breath was a testament to an indomitable spirit, a refusal to yield to the encroaching void.

The room itself seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency, bearing witness to a solitary struggle against the inevitable. Shadows clung to the edges of consciousness, threatening to pull the wounded figure into an abyss from which there might be no return. She saw your lips moving but the words fell upon death ears, she couldn't make out whatever you were frantically telling her, all she knew was that she was tired and she couldn't fight to stay awake much longer.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Though Ellie had believed you to be an angel, you proved yourself to be real.

As the first rays of the Southern sun began to pierce through ornate curtains, casting a warm golden glow upon the opulent bedroom, she stirred beneath the layers of soft, embroidered linens. The mattress cradled her like a sanctuary, and the pillows plumped to perfection, offered a haven for dreams. The room itself exuded a rustic elegance, with intricately carved wooden furniture standing proudly against the walls adorned with rich tapestries. The air carried the subtle scent of cedar, a nod to the untamed wilderness just beyond the ornate windows. Lace curtains danced in the morning breeze, revealing a breathtaking view of the rolling hills and vast plains. The room, a luxurious oasis in the heart of the frontier, embraced her in a cocoon of comfort, providing a stark contrast to the rugged landscape outside. As she slowly opened her eyes, the lavish details of the room unfolded like a dream, and for a moment, she forgot about the events of the night before, until the throbbing pain of stitched wounds hit her once more.

Ellie was no longer in the drenched clothes from the previous night and was no longer nose-blinded by the sickly sweet stench of blood. Though she didn't remember everything from the night before, she remembered you

What had woken her up was the incredible smell filling whatever room she was in. Cast-iron fried bacon, its savoury perfume mingling with the tantalizing scent of freshly steeped tea that wafted through the air. The aroma of flapjacks, golden and perfectly griddled, hung thick, inviting all who caught wind of it to indulge in a culinary celebration of the morning.

A bounty of farm-fresh eggs scrambled to perfection, adorned the table alongside a bowl of vibrant, sun-ripened tomatoes and sliced avocados, their colours mirroring the vivid hues of the sunrise. A basket brimming with flaky biscuits, warm and buttery, beckoned with promises of melt-in-your-mouth goodness.

In the center of it all, a heaping pile of wild berries and succulent peaches offered a burst of sweetness, a reminder of nature's abundance even in the rugged expanse of the frontier. A jar of homemade preserves, bursting with the flavours of sun-ripened fruits, awaited its turn to grace the breakfast spread. All of it meticulously placed on the breakfast tray beside her.

She had never been blessed enough to get such a thoughtful breakfast, or meal, or anything for that matter. Ellie had grown up around ruffians who showed love through gunpowder and chewing tobacco.

Every bite tasted just as good as she had anticipated, most people wouldn't have thought it smart to eat a meal in a stranger's home that magically appeared to wake her up and maybe Ellie wasn't smart but she sure was hungry.

In the corridors, you hummed along to a song you used to sing on the piano when you were a girl while you rearranged and tidied bits and pieces of your shared home so everything was in its place. Your ears pricked up at the sound of rustling, it could have only been one thing. You knocked on the door of one of your guest rooms.

"Yeah?" She said through a mouthful of food.

You pushed the spruce door open, closing it behind you "Good mornin'," You smiled "Or afternoon, I suppose. Feelin' any better?"

She felt embarrassment well up in her throat, there you were looking so effortlessly stunning and she was a half-baked mess laying in one of your beds, swallowing back the food you slaved away to prepare. "Ma'am, I am so very sorry for imposin' on ya' last night, I will be out of your hair in no time."

"Stay as long as ya' need," You dismissed her "Truth be told, it gets a little lonely in this house, Sawyer goes away all day and when he's home he's too tired to speak, so it's just me."

She furrowed her eyebrows "You own a house this big and you haven't got a maid or servant or something?"

You shook your head "We used to have one but Sawyer fired her, said I needed some chores to keep me busy. We do have a stable boy, name's Jerry, nice kid just can't speak English all that well. He comes by a couple of days a week and has tea with me during his breaks. I won't keep ya' here if you don't want to though."

"I'd just feel too guilty eatin' your food and givin' you nothing," Didn’t seem guilty one minute ago. She moved the tray of food from its spot on her lap to the empty bedside table. She began to push the covers off of her, trying her best to ignore the ache in her bones. When her feet hit the ground she felt extreme agony course through her body like a million little knives swimming through her bloodstream. She crumbled over into herself on the ground.

You rushed over to help her back up "Easy," You say, your tone soft "You're hurt, remember?"

Ellie couldn't even stand on her own at that moment, her legs shook with each step she tried to take, you leading her gingerly. "Can't feel a thing," She lied through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?"

"Nope, I need to sit back down," She said and you helped her to sit on the side of the cushioned bed. She couldn't remember feeling that weak for a very long time, not since she had been a child. Ellie almost wanted to laugh at how stupid she felt, needing you to help her take a few steps like she was elderly, instead, she looked up at you "How did I get so lucky as to have you take care of me?"

"Sometimes we just meet someone at the right time." You shrug. You were no longer able to bite back the question that had kept you up all night "If I may ask, what happened to you last night?"

She sighed, scootching herself back in the bed to get comfortable "I'm nothing more than a travelling merchant ya' see, last night while I was headed out of Palecliff, I was raided by a group of bandits, took my horse, my wagon, everything I've ever known gone in one night along with my dignity."

Your eyes went wide and you clasped a hand over your mouth "What did they look like?"

You had a million questions for her and you didn't waste time in showering her with them. It had been so long since you had someone to talk to, not your stoic husband, not a fourteen-year-old who didn't understand your language, but a woman your age who indulged your questions and laughed at your jokes, adding her witty remarks to them. When you married Sawyer it was like you were thrown into the life of someone you did not know, it went from sixteen-year-old you playing piano every night, serving food, chatting up locals to being isolated in a stark mansion on top of a hill, watching the ghost of what your life used to be from what felt like a cage. You were allowed to enter town once a month, beyond that you would sneak off to the creek and the far-off forest where there was no one to report to your husband, his father was the mayor so out of fear they would never keep their mouths shut.

It only made you ecstatic when Ellie had agreed to stay with the promise of doing house and stable work when she recovered to pay you back in whatever ways she could.

Mornings with Ellie began with the aroma of herbal tea and the comforting crackle of a wood-burning stove. You, now a dedicated caregiver, tended to the injured woman's wounds with gentle hands, your touch a balm for both body and soul.

Conversations flowed like the pages of a well-worn novel, each chapter revealing the layers of their respective histories. Shared laughter echoed through the homestead, a melody that resonated against the backdrop of the vast wild wind. In the quiet moments, as the injured woman gazed out of the window, she found peace in the sight of the rolling hills and endless skies.

Through the nuances of daily life—shared meals whispered confidences, and the unspoken understanding that transcended words—the two women became intertwined, bound to one another almost.

Sawyer wasn't fond of how his wife had come to spend her time. Something about the sound of her laughter echoing through the halls had angered him, knowing that he wasn't the one who made her laugh.

Sawyer, a figure of striking contradiction to his gentle and nurturing wife, cut a commanding presence beneath the harsh sunlight. His tousled locks, framed a face chiselled with the unforgiving lines of both nature and a life forged on the frontier. A mane of wheat-gold hair fell over piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating like the steel of a Colt revolver. His tall, lean form moved with the languid grace of a predator, exuding an effortless confidence that bordered on arrogance. Dressed in the finest of suits, Sawyer's appearance belied an innate cruelty that simmered beneath the surface. A well-defined jawline, framed by the hint of stubble, spoke of a man who had faced the harsh realities of the untamed West, and yet, it was the glint in his eyes that hinted at the darkness that mirrored the vast, shadowed canyons of the frontier. In the presence of Sawyer, the air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone.

When Ellie had healed enough to hobble around the house and assist you with chores as well as join you and Sawyer at the dinner table, he had made sure to be vocal. "Ellie, I think you could ease up on the help a little as much as we appreciate it," He said across a table of food you spent hours preparing "I don't want my wife to forget to be grateful for the life that's been handed to her if she relaxes too much she just slips away into some progressive madness."

You look towards him, a subtle rage simmering inside of you "Sawyer, I'm not being ungrateful, I'm just tired from-

He raised a hand to stop your talking "I don't think we want those womanly emotions to get in the way, do we?"

You pushed yourself away from the table, slamming your serviette down and storming out.

Sawyer only chuckles at this, turning to look at Ellie who had found herself constantly having to bite her tongue around him "Just wait until she has children, she'll cry every day and make up even more things to complain about." Before Ellie, he had never felt such a sense of possession over you, typically he just treated you like an ornament.

All good things must come to an end and so they did; Ellie had healed almost completely after two months, the Southern winter had passed and spring was arriving. You both lied to yourself, pretending that it was still sensible for Ellie to be living in your house. You convinced her to let you take her to your favourite spot.

In the early embrace of spring, a hidden gem sat in the heart of nature—a beautiful creek that meandered through the landscape like a serpentine ribbon of liquid silver. The air, still sharp with the vestiges of winter, carried the invigorating scent of damp earth and awakening foliage. Along the banks, delicate shoots of vibrant green grass peeked through the remnants of melting snow, heralding the arrival of a season draped in renewal.

The creek itself murmured a gentle melody, a harmonious symphony composed by the bubbling riffles and the soft percussion of water cascading over smooth stones. The water, crystal clear and pure, reflected the azure canvas of the early spring sky, creating a mirror that captured the fleeting beauty of budding trees and the emerging wildflowers that lined the water's edge.

Beneath the surface, the creek harboured secrets—shimmering pebbles, polished by the tender caress of the water's passage, and tiny aquatic organisms that stirred with the promise of life. The sunlight filtered through the burgeoning leaves above, casting dappled patterns on the creek's surface like nature's stained glass adorning a cathedral of serenity.

On the banks, clusters of delicate wildflowers began to unfurl their petals, their hues ranging from the soft pastels of violets and blues to vivid bursts of yellow and pink, something you didn’t see much in the South. The air resonated with the hum of awakening insects, drawn by the allure of this watercourse oasis. Overhead, the first tentative flights of butterflies painted the air with ephemeral strokes of colour.

As the creek wound its way through the landscape, it carved miniature canyons and pools, inviting creatures to quench their thirst and revel in the burgeoning abundance of the season. The stones lining the creek bed, smoothed by centuries of flowing water, became stepping stones for adventurous critters and skipping stones for the whimsical heart.

The beauty of the early spring creek lay not just in its visual splendour, the soothing melody of flowing water, the caress of a gentle breeze, the fragrance of blossoming life, and the dance of sunlight playing upon its liquid surface. This pristine sanctuary embodied the very essence of renewal, inviting all who encountered it to immerse themselves in the sublime poetry of the changing seasons.

The pair of you just sat in silence, neither wanted to say what had to be said so you decided to drown beneath the weight of the words that went unsaid.

"I can't stay here anymore," Ellie said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She sat on the lush grass with her knees pulled into her chest. Her chestnut hair, the colour of fresh earth, cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, occasionally stirred by the whispering winds that danced across the plains. Almond-shaped hazel eyes, reminiscent of the vast prairie skies, held a depth that spoke of an untamed spirit. Ellie's sun-kissed complexion bore the subtle traces of a life lived under the relentless Western sun, and a scattering of freckles across her cheeks hinted at days spent amidst the open range. Clad in practical yet well-worn attire she had borrowed from you, her hands, calloused from the rigours of the mysterious life she lived before meeting you, spoke of a resilience that mirrored the vast landscapes she navigated. In the unforgiving wilderness, where strength and grace were as vital as the air one breathed.

"I know," You said back just as quietly, you both looked at the creek ahead of you, not able to meet each other's eyes.

"I don't want to leave you."

"I can't leave." You said, a newfound sense of sadness washing over you. It had just hit that you would return to the dull life you lived before her, days filled with nothing more than silence, loneliness, and regret.

"I wish you could," She picked at the grass, unsure of what to do with her hands.

Silence stretched between you like birds on a wire "Just stay, one more night and then I'll let you go for good, I won't pester you anymore."

She smiled softly "Sure, I'll stay another night."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

You had left town at the crack of dawn that morning to gather supplies for Ellie before she left, and the night before you had babbled on and on to Sawyer about how excited you were for your plans before you turned in for the night. You had used the only day that month that you were permitted to leave to do something special for Ellie. After paying a brief visit to your father and sister you began the trek back up.

After you returned home from the short trip you had intended to go into the house and bundle up your goodies for Ellie but you had been detoured by a sound from the stable. You hadn't expected Jerry to be there, it was one of your days to man the stables, not his. Despite the confusion, you followed the crashes and bangs from the stables.

As you approached the stables, the familiar sounds of horses' hooves and distant howls of coyotes were overshadowed by an unfamiliar murmur and groan. A knot tightened in your stomach, foreboding lingering in the air like an impending storm. Pushing open the creaking door, your gaze fell upon a sight that froze her to the core.

In the muted light of the stable lanterns, you saw your husband, a man you slept beside every. night, entwined with another woman. The hay-strewn floor became an unwitting witness to the betrayal unfolding before your disbelieving eyes. The flickering lantern light cast shadows on their entangled forms, revealing a scene that would forever alter the course of your existence.

The air hung heavy with tension, the silence punctuated only by the stifled gasp that escaped your lips. The two figures, caught in an embrace that spoke of deceit, turned to face her with eyes filled with shock. The other woman, a fleeting presence in your life until this moment, bore the weight of her transgressions. Horror pushed tears from your eyes "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" You screamed, watching as the two shamefully and frantically dressed themselves.

"Can you blame me?" Sawyer buttoned up his trousers "You're always sad or angry around me, I love you, I just need a break sometimes-

"You make me feel that way!" You felt sick to your stomach like you were going to vomit "I have turned myself inside out trying to love you but I don't even like you!"

You could see your words hit him when his jaw began to tense up, the familiar tell that he would be raging soon "I don't even think you like me!"

"I don't!" You shout "I hate you I wake up every morning and I feel so empty when I have to look into those dull eyes of yours!"

"You won't even touch me."

"You only show me a sliver of kindness when you want your dick taken care of." You spat, the look of complete rage on his face made you smile; that was when he struck you. His backhand landed firmly on the side of your face, forcing you to stumble back, shuddering at the stinging sensation.

He put his hands up, trying to show you that he wouldn't hit you again "I'm sorry-

Before you could finish your sentence you were screaming, grabbing the shovel from its resting place on the stable wall and slamming it across his head. Sawyer didn't even stand for a moment, the second the shovel made contact with his head, he flopped to the ground. You audibly squeaked, watching blood ooze from the newly formed gash in his head.

"Sawyer?" You crouched down, poking at his limp body with the shovel to see if he would shift. Nothing. His eyes fell lifeless along with the rest of him. The shovel clattered to the ground as you brought both hands to cover your mouth.

You stood over his body, your actions registering in your head, you had killed him. You had taken the life of someone.

You were only snapped away from your thoughts when you heard a thud. Your head snapped to where the sound had come from, only to find the black-haired woman he was cheating on you with stumbling back up from her fall, she cast a look back at you, terror written across her pale face.

Feet moving faster than your mind, you ran after her, she had already got a good headstart on you. She was beginning to rush towards one of the steeper sides of the hill, you knew you wouldn't catch her in time; so instead of pursuing her, you grabbed the gun off the front porch and aimed it at the woman.

The metallic tang of gun oil hung in the air as you cradled the shotgun, the weight unfamiliar in your hands, you were only going off of what your father had shown you all those years ago. The overwhelming sun cast long shadows across the open range, painting the world in hues of amber and gold. With trepidation etched on her face, you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath. The gun felt cool against your trembling fingertips as she aimed at a distant woman. The tension in the air was palpable as you squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the vast expanse. The recoil startled you, and a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty danced in your eyes. At that moment, as the echoes of the shot reverberated through the silence of the frontier, you felt a seismic shift watching the raven-haired woman fall, now rolling down the hill.

Still gripping the shotgun, you ran over to the spot where you had seen the woman collapse.

When you bore down the hill, her body was nowhere to be found.

Your head shot up to search the plains for her but you didn't see a sign of where she had gone, aside from the small pool of blood, seeping into dead grass where she had initially fallen.

"What's wrong?" Ellie shouted, running over to where you stood, frozen in fear for what lay ahead of you "I heard a gunshot."

"Ellie I-" You were stiff where you stood, grasping the shotgun so tight that your knuckles had turned white "Sawyer was cheating on me in the stables and I saw him and I was just so mad that I-I hit him with a shovel, I didn't think he would die, I just wanted him to be as afraid of me as I was of him. That woman he was with, she saw me kill him so I shot her but she got away and now I'm good as dead."

Ellie didn't seem as mortified as you thought she would be, she took the shotgun away from you, slinging an arm around your waist with her free hand and guiding you back to the house "It's okay, not as bad as it could be, you took care of me now it's my turn to take care of you."

"It's not okay, I'm gonna be strung up at the gallows in front of everyone, I killed the mayors son." A breath hitched in your throat "My dad's gonna watch me hang."

"Only if they catch us," Ellie said nonchalantly, steering you up the porch "Pack what you need, we'll be out of here in no time. It only feels fair to tell you now that I’m not actually a travelling merchant.”

[alice-angel12x]

Death isn't so scary pt.2

Lilia x Death! reader (Part 1)

Somewhat takes place during ch.7 in the dream scape.

It was a calm moonlight night, and Y/n Death sat patiently under a lone willow tree. Under its swaying branches was a simple table, where Y/n sat and waited for their company.

As they listened to the breeze, a masked figure came up. He wore a goblin mask and a general uniform of the Briar Valley.

"Took you a while, I was beginning to think you stood me up," Y/n smiled slightly.

"I would never do such a thing. It was difficult escaping the party I was at. Yet I am here now," Lilia smiles as he removes his mask.

"I'm surprised you would even want to celebrate your resignation from General with me. And not with the queen and your fellow soldiers," Y/n said.

"Well, I will still be working close to the royal family. And I'll still see my friends often. It's you, the one I see by chance," Lilia smiled and takes a sip of tea.

"Why would you want to be in the company of me?" Y/n asked as they watched Lilia enjoy the little meal.

Not too far away two figures peeked out from behind some trees. And only one of them could see a white bird circle around Lilia. A blue-fire Tanuki, a green-haired half-fae, and a silver-haired human watched from afar.

"Silver are you sure this is master Lilia's dream?" Sebek asked Siver.

"I am certain, this is father's dream. But why is he dreaming about having a tea party with Y/n?" Sebek asked. " They wouldn't be alive all those centuries go."

"They would. Y/n has been around since like... Forever," Grim said.

"What are you talking about?" Sebek asked.

"I wish Y/n was in the dream with us to explain," Sliver sighed.

"I am here, just not in a form you can see me," Said Y/n's disembodied voice.

"What! Y/n? Where are you?" Grimm asked as he looked around for her.

"I am incapable of dreaming. So I can't enter the dream Plane. So this is the most I can do. So, What is happening in the dream?" Y/n's voice asked again.

"It's lord Lilia's dream, and it seems he's dreaming about having a tea party with you to celebrate his retirement from General. I think a couple of decades after the War," Sebek explained.

"Are you a fae yourself Y/n?" Silver asked. "How else would you be there around that time."

"I am no Fae. I have been around for a long time, even longer than the oldest Fae," Y/n's voice said. " I... I am not human."

"S-so did you really have a tea party with him, like in this dream?" Silver asked.

"I did, though I think Lilia may be dreaming with rose-tinted lens, 'cause I did not dance with him," Y/n voice.

The boys looked back to see that Lilia had led Dream Y/n into a waltz under the star-lit sky. Dream Y/n had a faint smile as they let Lilia lead them in the dance. who had a faint blush

"He looks really happy dancing with You," Grimm commented.

"That was something I could never understand about Lilia. He was a popular bachelor himself. Yet he would always brush those admirers aside," Y/n's voice commented. "Along with-"

-----------

"Oh? Why are you moving to a cottage in the dark woods?" Dream Y/n asked Lilia.

"Oh, just... Wanted a change of paste, and a break from the hustle and bustle of the kingdom," Lilia smiled sheepishly.

"Hmm, well I think that is a lonely kind of place you have chosen for yourself," Dream Y/n said gently.

"I don't think it would be too bad, since I know it's a common stomping ground for some friends," Lilia smiles at Dream Y/n.

------------

"Fath- I mean Lord Lilia seems very infatuated with you?" Silver looked to the sky.

"He is?" Y/n's voice asked in confusion.

Sebek and Grim face-palm at that.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 18:A naughty sleigh ride || Exhibitionism sex ||

Fandom: Marvel Universe

Character: Loki

Naughty or Nice

Warnings:Exhibitionism sex

A/n: Idk how I feel about this one :/

Loki loved to spoil you, anything you want you would get. He could not explain why, you were some mortal that happened to know his brother due to your connection with the Avengers. He found himself smitten with you since day one.

You were just to kind, just so soft he would have been a fool to turn you away and now you were his. So when you walked up to him with your big doe eyes asking if he wanted to go on a sleigh ride with you, well he couldn't say no to you besides you looked so cute all bundled up.

"I found the perfect little path for us love." Loki grasped your chin gently as he nodded to the sleigh behind him. "And you do not have to worry about a thing, if you decide to get frisky." His voice dipped as a light laugh escaped your lips as he helped you into the sleigh and soon you two were off though one moment you were enjoying the scenery then the next you were straddling Loki.

Loki's eyes gleamed with a mixture of desire and mischief as he watched you roll your hips into his own, you looking radiant under the moonlight. The sleigh ride adding an extra thrill to their already exhilarating adventure.

"You are so beautiful." he said, his voice husky with desire. "I could spend a lifetime just admiring every curve, every dip, every delicious inch of you."

He couldn't resist the urge to run his hands under the blouse you wore, his touch gentle yet filled with hunger. His fingers then slipping under your skirt as he traced patterns along your thighs, up to your belly, before finally reaching your breasts, teasing your nipples.

"But we're not here to admire, are we?" he continued, his voice laced with anticipation. "We're here to indulge, to embrace the freedom of our desires."

With a snap of his fingers you were naked your panties vanished as he then tugged his pants down feeling the winter air. The cold only heightened his senses, making every touch, every caress, more electrifying.

He pulled you into his arms,the heat between you both radiating. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm.

As you both continued to explore each other's bodies, your moans mingled with the soft crunching of snow beneath them as the sleigh pulled you through the woods, beneath the stars.Loki's hands roamed freely, teasing and pleasuring every inch of your skin. He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue tracing patterns of ecstasy, savoring your taste.

His voice filled with desire. "I cannot get enough of you. I want to devour every part of you."

With each thrust of your bodies, the pleasure intensified, your connection growing deeper and more intense. Loki's hands gripped her your, guiding your movements, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

You lost yourselves in the ecstasy of your passion, your cries of pleasure filling the night. The stars shinning brightly below you both, your love and lust for one another intertwining in a symphony of sensations.

And as you both reached the peak of your pleasure, your bodies trembling with release, Loki held you close, his heart pounding in unison with your own.

"I love you."he whispered, his voice breathless. "You are incredible, you are everything."

He peppered your face with kisses, his body still buzzing with the remnants of your passionate encounter.

Resting your head against his own you did your best to catch your breath as you smile. Your fingers gliding down his cheek as you then gave him a kiss. "And you are my everything Loki, my King."

Chuckling softly, Loki could still feel your warmth wrapped around his shaft. You still felt wonderful. "Get some rest, my Queen."

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | x

Fear of vulnerability becomes obsolete as y/n manages to conquer it once more.

Read part nine here

Listen while reading: Black Magic Woman - Santana or Fleetwood Mac version

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 12.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), praise, dirty talk, shower sex, biting (slightly), touch of body worship, swearing, drinking, angst, long emotional talks, feelings of insecurity/inferiority, sorry if I miss any!

hello everyone!! posting this as a birthday gift to myself bc i finally managed to finish it!! thanks for participating in the poll and for all the lovely messages I’ve been receiving. I really hope you like this chapter and please feel free to share your thoughts in my inbox 🫶🏻 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!! (this is also v lightly edited, my apologies 😁)

Moonlight poured in through the large panel windows casting a luminous white glow over the entirety of the room. All other forms of light were off, leaving you relying only on the night to bless you with vision. Your Gold Top was sat in your lap, odd notes ringing through the air when you felt enough energy to pluck the strings. Your pedalboard was sat by your foot, allowing you easy access to it while you sat lazily facing the door in the only armchair the room offered. Your journal was sat atop the table next to you, open to a page of scribbles and various words, none making a bit of sense. Beside it, a crystal clear glass shimmered under the glow of the moon, housing your pick of poison for the night. The ice inside was causing drips of condensation to fall down on the wood below it, tempting you further the longer you looked at it.

You had one leg draped over the side of the chair as you sat on an angle, cradling your guitar in the other. All sense of creativity seemed to have gone, leaving you feeling like you were failing at your only talent. You kicked off the distortion pedal, sick of the same grungy tone you used so often. You strummed a few chords on the clean setting, cocking your head to the side as the sound filled your ears. “There it is,” you whispered, content with the sound and finally finding the motivation to play something worthwhile. You slid your fingers up the fretboard, landing midway between the body and the head. You closed your eyes, using only your memory to guide you. You plucked away at the intro, lowering your foot on the wah pedal just to add a touch of mystique to the sound.

“Got a black magic woman,

Got a black magic woman,

I’ve got a black magic woman

Got me so blind, I can’t see.” You echoed the tune like an anthem, finally feeling the defeat in your heart flowing away.

“That she’s a black magic woman,

She’s tryin’ to make the devil out of me.” You muted the strings, seeming like the song was put to a stop, only to jump in again with the next line.

“Don’t turn your back on me baby,

Don’t turn your back on me baby,

Yes, don’t turn your back on me, baby

Stop messing round with your tricks,

Don’t turn your back on me baby,

You might just pick up my magic sticks.” You let out a sigh of content, kicking on some light distortion and leading yourself into the solo with ease. You let your head fall back on the chair, eyes screwed shut in concentration as your fingers danced over the strings. As you finished, you let out a breath you had been holding for quite some time, feeling your head spin slightly. Of course, the alcohol was more to blame, but you were never willing to admit to your own intoxication.

You continued singing, the low pitched melody settling in your chest the way music should; filling any emptiness and replacing any discontent. You sang yourself through to the end of the song, taking in a breath so you could sing the last line.

“I need you so bad, magic woman, I can’t leave you alone.” The voice startled you, as did the flash of fluorescent hallway lights that flooded your room. You looked to the door, a laugh on your lips as you noticed the intruder.

“Sing it again, baby.” You said, leading him back into the last line for a moment of sweetness. He took a few steps towards you, a smile growing as he approached.

“I need you so bad, magic woman, I just can’t leave you alone.” He sang, slow and gentle, but impactful and with clear intent. You plucked the last few notes, letting the final one ring until it faded on its own. “Santana?” He asked.

“Y/n, actually.” You corrected, knowing that no interaction with Sam would be complete without at least a little bit of teasing. “And if you’re referring to the song, it’s Peter Green. Shouldn’t you know that, rockstar?”

“Sorry, slipped my mind.” He chuckled, looking around your room with curiosity.

“I’ll forgive and forget, just because you put on such a good show.” You said, leaning forward and switching off the power to your amp. “Minus a point for showing up without an invitation.”

“Your door was open. Thought that was enough of an invitation.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. You gave a shrug, placing your guitar back in its case.

“Got me there.” You conceded, both of you knowing that you were only joking with him anyway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just thought I’d visit. Haven’t seen much of you lately. I miss you.” His transparency was haunting, mostly due to the reasoning behind your sudden absence. Your withdrawal had everything to do with his brother and the profound connection you had felt with him the night you had made your confession of love. Since then, you found it difficult to look Sam in the eye. Despite it feeling so right at the time, you held guilt for having to choose which brother to proclaim love to first. More than that, you felt guilt because it was not Sam who came out on top.

Although guilty, you did not hold any remorse or regret for what unfolded that night in your hotel room. You loved Jake, and you were incredibly relieved to have finally spoken it aloud. You had no desire to withdraw the confession, because it was the truth. But as you had learned, especially when it came to loving the brothers, the truth hurt and sometimes it hurt excruciatingly bad. You knew that you could love Jake and feel bad for shunning Sam all the same, and despite many beliefs, you absolutely can love two people at once. Not only were you struggling with the idea of opening your soul to Jake, you were also struggling with sadness at the thought of pushing Sam away when you so desperately wanted to do the same with him.

So, in short, you had found yourself in yet another cycle of self-punishment for the things that you could not control. You could not control the love you had for Jake, and you could not control the love you had for his brother. Instead of finding the courage to confess to Sam, too, you had locked yourself away in hopes that you would never have to face the harrowing truth of your own complicated emotions. “I miss you too, Sammy.” You replied, turning your head to watch as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asked, his question loaded and his tone soft. How could you begin to explain without inviting him to ask all of the questions you did not want to answer? You reached for the whiskey glass calling to you, taking a sip of liquid courage before trying to conjure a response.

“So much to say, so little time.” You muttered, clasping the cold glass between both of your hands. The shock of the chill seemed to regulate your brain as it swirled with aimless thoughts and worries.

“I have all night.” He assured you. “Should I close the door?”

“You don’t want the world to know about our dirty laundry?” You smirked, sipping back more of the beverage in your hand. “I’m sure they’d get some good entertainment from it.” He let out a low chuckle as he stood to close the door of the room, locking out any intruders and locking in any confessions. There was nothing inside now but the sound of your sorrow, and the weight of the unspoken love that you couldn’t seem to fess up to. He returned to the bed, the moonlight cascading upon him like a cloak of protection. Unfortunately, not even the comfort of the moon could lessen the pain in your hearts. He could feel the weight of your troubled soul before he ever stepped foot inside the room, and the only thing he could hope was that it did not come from your desire to leave him.

“I saw you and Jake leave the bar that night.” He stated, his words echoing off the walls and striking you with every rebound. You chose to keep your chair pointed away from him in hopes that you could keep your composure. Everything always seemed infinitely harder when you were looking into his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about your brother.” You said, tone flat and setting a firm boundary. “I want to talk about you.”

“The floor is yours, princess.” He said, inviting anything and everything more than what you were giving him, even if it turned volatile. You ran your fingers over the fabric of your jeans, racking your brain for the best way to begin the conversation.

“We’ve been doing this for a while now, Sam. I think it’s time that we start thinking about the future.” You explained, stomach sick at the thought of tomorrow. “I feel like I’ve been blindly trusting that time will make things easier, but it’s only made it harder. I’m starting to believe that this won’t end until it kills us.”

“Do you want to end this?” He asked, but aimed to keep his inquiry vague in hopes that he would not be met with a devastating response.

“It has to eventually, right?” You scoffed. “I mean, we can’t keep going through life when all we’re doing is hurting each other.”

“I don’t think we’ve only been hurting each other,” his rebuttal was soft. “It certainly hasn’t been easy, but I’m incredibly grateful for the time I get to spend with you.” His words warmed your heart, sending a rush of joy through you despite feeling like you did not deserve it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He assured you, wishing that you would turn around so he could see your face.

“I…” you had no idea what to ask first, previously believing that your instincts would guide you through the difficult conversation, but your instincts had never been kind to you before. After all, they were the exact reason you were in the situation you had been struggling with so much. “I need to know the truth. It’s time I asked you everything we’ve been running away from.”

“Whatever you want to know, baby.”

“All those months ago… did you ever notice me?”

“Notice you?” He wanted clarification, unsure of what exactly you were referring to.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself from the crackle of fear in your voice. You needed to know, but you were unsure if you wanted to. “Before… before Jake. I want to know if you noticed me, or if you saw how much I noticed you.”

“Of course I did, y/n.” He defended, trying to comprehend the thought of you not knowing how much he cared.

“I just… fuck!” You exclaimed in no more than a whisper. You ran your hand through your hair, pulling at the strands in hopes that the proper words would come to you. You knew the longer you deliberated your questions, the more confusing they would become. “Then why did you never say anything! Why did you let me sit there and hope that you wanted me, too?”

“I… I don’t know.” He muttered, ashamed that he couldn’t give you a better answer.

“It’s time to know, Sam! Because I need to know, and if you can’t give me any reason to believe you’re not lying, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I sat there every night praying that you would come and talk to me, or that maybe you would just look in my direction and notice how much I cared about you. You can’t tell me that you didn’t know I loved you, because it’s been painfully obvious since the minute I met you.” You stopped yourself to take another sip from your drink, hoping that the burn would distract you from your breaking heart, but it was just another shot to fill the void that only ever seemed to grow larger. “It only ever seemed like you wanted me when you were scared of someone else having me.”

“That’s not true,” he shook his head, horrified that you would ever think that. “I know I was stupid, and I wish I could make up for the mistakes I made, but I know that they’re always going to hurt you no matter what I do. I can’t take it away, even if I wanted to!”

“Jesus Christ, Sam. The door is closed, the lights are off, you can stop acting! I’m sick of the ‘I dont knows’ and the ‘I’m sorrys’. Why did I only ever exist to you when Jake came into the picture? I didn’t exist when other girls were hanging off your arm, or when there was someone better to talk to, so if your interest in me is more than just a pissing contest with your brother, I need to know!” You exploded, your chest feeling like it was going to explode. You wanted to turn around, to face him while you spat your accusations to at least see if he appeared guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You knew the minute you saw him, nothing would matter anymore. It was the way your relationship worked; all other issues seemed obsolete when in his company. The beauty of him seemed to outshine any pain, and the comfort that surrounded him was always greater than any turmoil you could imagine. If you were going to get a confession, you would only have the power to do it as long as he wasn’t looking into your eyes.

“More than a pissing contest?” He reiterated your comment, baffled at the lack of understanding you had for him. “Is that what you think this is?”

“What else am I supposed to think, Sam?”

“You’re supposed to know how much you mean to me. You’re supposed to know that after three months of dates and playing house, you mean more to me than bragging rights!” His tone was strong, clearly bothered by your unwillingness to see him as he was. “I’m not falling in love with you for some ulterior motive. I’m not hurting over this because I think it’s fun to play with everyones feelings.” He said, the strain of emotion heavy on his shoulders. “I noticed you, y/n. You just didn’t care to see it, because you’re so fucking afraid of being in love that it changed the way you view the world.”

“That’s not fair,” you snapped, matching his temper with ease. Your fear of love was not an insult to be thrown, and you wanted to make that perfectly clear.

“It is fair, because it’s true. You asked, and I’m answering, so sit there and be quiet.” You wanted to fight back, but you were too stunned at the tone of voice he was speaking in. Sam had never been anything other than gentle with you, and it was shocking to hear anything close to anger in his words. “I noticed. I see you, y/n, even when you won’t let yourself believe that I do. I thought that I showed you over the last few months, but I’m okay with telling you, too. You don’t have to answer, or tell me if I’m right, because I already know that I am.” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what he was getting at. You only had to be confused for a moment before he began again. “Right now, you have a ring on your middle finger. It only has one stone, and it’s a moonstone. It’s a little cloudy, and sometimes when the light hits it, it looks blue. I thought it was an opal, but when I asked, you told me it was a moonstone. I don’t really know what those are, and I had never heard of them before you told me, but I love them, because now they remind me of you. You wear that ring every day, y/n. I’ve never seen you without it.” You looked down at your hand, eyes drifting over your middle finger. You stomach churned with regret as the stone glistened in the pale light from the moon. He was right, and in your time of knowing him, you had never taken it off.

“You have a speckle of brown in your left eye. It’s right under your pupil, and you can only notice it when you look closely, because from far away it just blends in. When you smile, there’s two little dimples in the corners of your mouth. When you’re nervous, you play with your hair. You can’t play beer pong unless your partner is on your right, because you have this little superstition and you think it’s bad luck to play any other way. You’re always the last one to go to bed when we’re hanging out, and you claim it’s because you’re a night owl, but I know that it’s because you can’t sleep unless you make sure everybody else is taken care of. You hate beer. You’ve always been open about that, but it’s so bad that you won’t let us hug you if we’ve been drinking it because you can’t even stand the smell.”

He was right; every little thing he had listed was undeniably true, and the knowledge he collected extended far beyond the few weeks of intimacy you had shared.

“You love the moon, your biggest idol is Stevie Nicks, and you blush when you’re lying. You love to love people, but don’t know how to accept when people love you. You invite everyone to your house because you hate when it’s quiet, and cheap tequila makes you sick. You love the colour green so much that you thought about painting your entire house the same colour, and you think pizza is overrated.” He finished, feeling like he had made his point abundantly clear. “I know you, y/n, and I always have. You can be mad at the stupid decisions I’ve made, but you don’t get to say that I don’t notice you. I notice you so much that it’s hard to see anything else.”

“Why did you wait so long? If you cared so much, what were you so scared of?”

“Everything!” He exclaimed. “I was terrified, and I didn’t know how to get over that. I still don’t, but I’m trying.”

“Did Jake light that fire in you?”

“You lit that fire!” He stood, too passionate about the topic to remain staring at the back of your head. He placed his hand on the arm of your chair and spun it around so you could face him. “You said you didn’t want to talk about my brother, so why are you making it about him?”

“Because you made it seem like it was about him!” You snapped, looking up at him with fire in your eyes. “So you payed attention, but I didn’t catch your eye enough for you to make a move? You let someone else shoot their shot before you thought I was worth the energy! I was in love with you for years, and nobody else ever compared to you. If you asked, I would have given you the world. I would have killed myself just to keep you alive! You let girls flirt with you in my house while I sat there and waited for you like a fucking idiot!”

“What girls, y/n?” He was shouting now, both of you caught up in the moment and unwilling to back down. “What girls are you talking about, because I don’t seem to recall it the way you do!” You recoiled at the strength of his words. “The girls that I had conversations with, but barely ever remembered their names? Maybe had an arm around every now and then? I’m sorry if you perceived it differently, but I was not flirting with them, and not once did I ever take anyone home! If you wanted to, you would have realized that I was giving you the exact same treatment, and my brothers, too! I wasn’t flirting, and I wasn’t with a single girl after I met you. That is the truth, even if you don’t want to believe it!” Your stomach sank, the malice fleeing your body and guilt rolling in to replace it.

Your love for him had skewed your perception of the situation, and now that he was laying it all on the table, he was correct. Looking back on the past without the pessimism and confusion clouding your judgement, he had never once touched nor talked to another girl in the way he did with you in the recent weeks. Back then, when he had a moment of seclusion with you, he acted the very same way as he did with the girls at your parties. You never saw Sam leave with a girl in tow, and you had never found a girl scrambling from your spare bedroom early in the morning before anyone else was awake. He was breaking down your previous notions about your relationship and reconstructing them with pillars of truth. You were the master at overthinking, and the queen of oblivion. The memories seemed to flood back into your brain with more clarity than ever before.

“What are you doing sitting all by yourself?” The sweet tone broke you from any internal brooding, immediately reigning importance over any other thought of the night. You looked up from your drink, the boom of music from the speakers beside you not even loud enough to overtake the beautiful sound of his voice. Your eyes landed on Sam, who was smiling down at you with tipsiness engraved in his features.

“Waiting for you to come and talk to me,” you joked, but the truth underneath the surface was painfully obvious.

“Why wait? You could’ve came and found me.” He grinned, eyes glistening with joy at the thought of you wanting to talk to him.

“I like to be chased, not do the chasing.” You giggled, hoping he would pick up on your humour.

“If that’s the case, I’d be happy to chase you.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, not caring about intruding nor asking permission.

“You don’t have anything better to do?” You said, nervous at the closeness of his body. His leg was practically resting on yours, and you had to bargain with the idea that he chose to sit so close despite the entirely vacant couch.

“When it comes to you? Never.”

You thought you were going to be sick, the rush of blood from your head making you feel woozy and the thud of your heart against your ribs growing more aggressive by the second.

“Hey, you better not be playing beer pong without me!” A voice called from behind you as you walked by with two ping pong balls in hand. Your head snapped towards the source of the sound, gaze immediately landing upon the youngest Kiszka brother. He was standing next to a blonde who seemed enthralled in his every move, but he wasn’t looking at anything but you. “Thought we were partners for life?”

“Better hurry if you want to join.” You sing-songed as you continued walking towards the fold out table, knowing that he likely wouldn’t want to leave his conversation to accompany you. You didn’t make it a point to stare, but had you waited a second longer before turning away, you would have noticed Sam ditch his company without as much as a second glance.

You let your head fall back on the chair, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat and your heart begin to ache.

Slumped over in the kitchen chair, you let your head rest on the table in hopes that the cool wood would satiate the ache in your skull. You couldn’t even seem to find the energy to get up for a glass of water and an Advil. Even if you did, the painkillers wouldn’t take away the hurt in your heart. You had drank your way through the last of your liquor the previous night until it guided you to sleep. By the end of the bottle, you still hadn’t seemed to forget the sight of Sam laughing with the pretty brunette your coworker had brought to the party with her. All other memories? Well, they were obsolete. In comparison, even if you were able to remember the rest of the night, no memory would be nearly as daunting as the one of Sam smiling down at another girl.

“Good morning, sunshine.” The words accompanied footsteps, and had you not recognized the voice so well, you wouldn’t have bothered to look up.

“Morning, Sammy.” You squinted as your eyes tried to adjust to the brightness.

“Headache?” He asked, moving towards the cupboard on top of the fridge. He didn’t need to ask to know; you always had a headache when you were hungover, and you had nursed a bottle of cheap tequila until the bitter end. In truth, he was expecting to find you in a much worse state.

“Mhm,” you mustered the noise in lieu of a verbal response, hoping that it would be easier on your migraine. Sam closed the cabinet after retrieving what he intended to grab. He moved to the sink, filling a glass with water and setting it beside you. He took a seat in a chair, accompanying you in hopes that it might make you feel better. When you looked towards the two pills he sat on the table, you gave him a small smile of thanks. You took them, feeling better at the idea of relief alone.

“Where’s your company?” You asked, hoping to seem nonchalant with the comment. He furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of who you referring to.

“Right here?” He replied, motioning to you.

“No,” you chuckled. “The girl from last night. You two seemed to hit it off, thought maybe it would go somewhere.” He appeared to be racking his brain to recall the girl in question. After a moment, his eyes lit up with clarity.

“Oh, no. I don’t even think I caught her name. After I helped you out, I just went to bed.”

“Helped me out?” You questioned.

“You don’t remember?” You shook your head, anxiety creeping into your chest as you waited for him to elaborate. “You were pretty drunk, and you seemed upset, so I thought I’d check in on you. You were sick for a while, so I stayed with you until you felt good enough to go to sleep. Brought you upstairs to help you to bed, and we ended up talking for a while.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You groaned “did I say anything stupid?”

“No,” he smiled, recalling the memory “it was nice, actually. I mean, you were upset and cried for a little while, but you wouldn’t tell me why. Once you calmed down, we laughed about it and you asked if I would stay until you fell asleep. Think we listened to the same record for an hour before you started to doze off.”

“Was it a good one at least?”

“It was a great one,” he nodded, but he only enjoyed it so much because you loved it, and if he had to admit, It was his new favourite album, mostly because you had fallen asleep in his arms to it. He decided to keep that memory to himself, locked away in the back of his mind for safe keeping. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed about it, and he was too scared to admit that he enjoyed it.

“Thanks,” you felt your cheeks tinge red.

“My pleasure.” He assured you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your chances with her. She seemed nice.” You felt the need to apologize despite your elation at the knowledge he had spent the remainder of his night with you. You wished you could remember what it felt like to be in seclusion with him, desperate to know what intimacy felt like at the hands of Sam Kiszka.

“Oh, no, no need to apologize. I’m always happy to help you out, y/n. Besides, I’m not looking for anything like that, anyway.” He said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your arm to reassure you he meant what he said. Your stomach burned with desire for him, but your head was screaming at you to remember the picture of him laughing with the nameless girl. Instead of realizing that you were both feeling the same way about each other, you allowed yourself to hurt over the thought of him showing interest in another girl, when in reality his interest was only in you.

“Oh my god, Sam.” You put your head in your hands, desperate to rid yourself of the remorse that was eating you alive. The memories were endless, pouring in with no intent to slow. You had been foolish, equating your lack of intimacy with him to a lack of interest. He did care, and he cared more than you ever realized. You were so afraid of falling that you failed to understand that he had fallen just as hard, terrified of the same fate. “I’m so sorry.” You muttered, trying to control the wavering of your voice. Tears were stinging your eyes, the reality harrowing and the darkness of the night matching the feeling in your heart. He loved you the same as you loved him, but you were both too foolish to find enough courage to open your souls to each other.

“Do you get it now?” He attempted to mask his own hurt, but it was crystal clear. The weight of it was settled on both of you, making it impossible to think of anything else. “I cared, y/n, but you never wanted to see it. You didn’t know how to let me care about you, so you convinced yourself that I didn’t. We were both scared, and we both made mistakes. Don’t paint me as the devil when you were doing just the same.” He took a seat again, defeated from his own confession. “I haven’t been pointing fingers at you for falling for Jake, and I feel like that is just as criminal as anything I’ve done.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I’m terrified! I always have been, and you never said anything either, so I had myself convinced that I was imagining something that wasn’t really there!” He said, looking up to meet your eyes. His sin was heavy in his gaze, as was yours. “I hurt the only person I’ve ever fallen in love with, and the world hasn’t forgiven me since. I haven’t even forgiven me.”

“Talk to me, Sammy.” You held his stare, eyes burning into his soul. “Tell me, so I can understand.” He debated the choice, knowing that if he opened up to you, you would see every part of him, good and bad. If he didn’t, he would lose you indefinitely, and there would only be him to blame for letting you walk out the door. After a moment of silence, he took a breath before divulging into the story he’d tried so hard to bury forever.

“It’s strange, you know. It feels like we’ve been cursed for life, and I’m not sure what we ever did to deserve it.” He started, the first blow striking the wall in hopes of breaking it down. “No matter how hard we avoid it, Jake and I always seem to find ourselves in the same situation. Every single girl I’ve ever fallen for has fallen for him, too, and vice versa. It’s horrible knowing that no matter what, we only ever get to enjoy love for a moment. When we were younger, I think we were stupid and cocky. We saw it as a game, which is horrible.” You nodded along, hoping to encourage him to keep talking. “When we went on tour for the first time, it was so surreal. I mean, we were still kids, y/n, barely grown and travelling the world.” He laughed at the memory, finding it mind blowing to recall.

“We snuck into a bar one night. Well, Danny and I did. Jake and Josh were barely old enough to get in, and we managed to scrape by. Turns out, the bar wasn’t very hard to get into, because it looked like it was crawling with high school students.” He found another chuckle amidst the pain of honesty. “I met a girl about a year or two older than me. She was fantastic, and we ended up talking all night. So much that when they were closing up the place, they had to kick us out. We texted back and fourth, got to know each other, and then seemed to be on the phone constantly. Eventually, we got fed up and she flew out to travel with us for a little while. Things were really good, and she took breaks from travelling with us to go home for a while. When a situation is good, it gets comfortable, and when you’re that young and your life is all over the place like mine was, comfortable is the same as boring in your mind.”

“I got drunk and hooked up with another girl while she was travelling with me. It was my fault, and I’ll never try and say otherwise. I hurt her, and I still feel guilty about it. She was the first person I fell in love with, even if I was young and didn’t really know what love meant. After we fought, she ended up in Jake’s bed. It killed me, even if I did deserve it. Jake and I fought like never before, and I don’t think we ever really recovered from it. Since then, I guess we always let the pattern repeat instead of putting an end to it. I think we both feel like there’s no point in trying to avoid it, because it’s inevitable anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Even though you knew the story, it seemed to hit so much harder when you could see the emotion in his face.

“I don’t want sympathy, y/n. I deserved what I got, and I know that. Pain doesn’t make someone innocent.” You nodded, understanding completely what he was saying. “When I fell for you, I fell so fast and hard that it nearly shattered my soul. I was scared because of how much I cared about you, but I was even more scared that he would steal you away. It’s not a good excuse, and it never has been, but it’s the truth. I thought if I kept how I felt hidden, I could enjoy you more, because then I wouldn’t have to watch you fall in love with Jake. I could see he felt the same way for you that I did. It may not have been obvious to everyone, but it was to me. I didn’t want to compete for you, but it looks like we ended up here, anyway.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling disgusted at how the predicament continued to repeat itself.

“So yeah, when Jake made a move on you it certainly made me realize how much I could lose, but I didn’t pursue you solely because I didn’t want him to have you. That would be disgusting, and I might not be perfect, but I would never put you through that.”

“I wish… I wish we could have said something sooner. It would have made everything so much easier.” You whispered, aching to reach out and touch him. He looked up from the floor, eyes settling on your face as a sad smile crossed his lips.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Jake wouldn’t have let you go without a fight, and I don’t blame him. You’re worth all of the pain, and I’d go through it a million times if it meant I could be with you, even just for a little while.” He said, holding your gaze. “I fell in love with that girl, and I fucked it up. Y/n, how I feel for you is far beyond anything I have ever felt for her. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much, but I do. I love you, but I am terrified of hurting you. I learned lessons that sucked, and I know I would never do that to you, but it scares me to know that I have the power to cause you any type of pain. The only thing I have ever wanted to do is love you, and no matter if it’s forever or only for a little while, I’m still beyond grateful that I got the chance.”

“You mean it?” Your words were barely loud enough to break through the silence, but he heard you. No matter where you were in the world, or how much distance between you, Sam would move heaven and earth to ensure someone was there to listen to you. Your voice was his favourite melody, the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He was certain that he would never hear anything that compared, and he would certainly never search for it. He adored you, and he did not care solely because he wanted to stop Jake from having you. He cared because he did; there was no personal gain nor any hidden benefit. He loved you completely, and he loved you for you. The suffering, the heartache, and even the fear of losing was not enough to deter him from loving you, because it was the best thing he had ever experienced.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life.” He refrained from reaching out to you, wondering if you would make the first move. He thought he had pushed you far enough with his words, and he didn’t want to scare you away. “I love you, y/n. Always have, and I always will. I will love you until you don’t want me to anymore, and I’ll keep loving you long after that, even if I have to keep it to myself.”

“I love you, Sam. I fell in love with you long before this started.” You breathed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted off your chest. It felt just as good to be honest with him as it did with Jake, but you had not laid the full truth on the table. “But I love him, too.”

“I know.” He said, unable to be upset at you for your honesty. “I just hope that in the end, you realize you love me a little bit more.” You gave him a sad smile, the sullen reply ripping your heart straight from your chest. “I know you can’t control what your heart wants, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed. If not, I’ll be happy as long as you are.” You were furious with yourself for not being able to end the suffering. Your greed was affecting everyone around you, and you couldn’t seem to find the courage to put a stop to it. You had so much history with Sam, and it seemed like the most logical option to be with him, especially considering your years of feelings for him. But logic had never been your friend, and it was a stranger when it came to the brothers. As much as you wanted to fall into Sam’s arms and be with him, you felt like you were stuck to the ground. You were not ready for that choice, and if you were to act impulsively, you couldn’t ensure you wouldn’t double back on your decision.

Worst, of all, you couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting Jake in that way. The conversation with Sam, the profession of love and all of the understanding was simple. So simple that it seemed too good to be true. The clarity you had gained from your discussion was incredible, and it seemed so much easier to confess your love to Sam. The fiery and emotional nature of your confession to Jake made your head spin when you thought about it for too long, and it was all but simple to talk about your feelings with him. But, you had come to learn that intimacy was not supposed to be easy, and by defaulting to loving Sam due to a lack of hardship was not fair to either boy. If you were to decide to love Sam based on simplicities, it would do nothing but make you a coward who could not find the gall to do hard things.

You sipped on your drink, desperate to find something to put your mind to rest. You both sat in silence, looking away from each other in hopes that the other would speak first. “Do you think that there’s another universe where we get to love each other more?” You finally broke the silence, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope in your eye.

“It’s impossible, because in every universe, I love you the same.” He gave you a sad smile. “Maybe there’s one where we can love each other easily.”

“I’d like to know what that one is like.” You felt tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. “I bet it would be fantastic.” He gave a shrug, feeling a stab to his chest at the sight of the tears overflowing from your eyes.

“This one is too, princess. Loving you is fantastic, even if it’s not perfect.” You closed your eyes, feeling a sob fall from your lips. You wished you could go back in time and stop yourself from falling into the trap, to understand that despite your confidence, the situation was bound to be disastrous. But, at the same time, even if it was painful, loving them had been the most fun you had in your entire life. No matter which boy you picked, or even if you picked neither, you did not regret the time you spent with them. Going back and avoiding your mistakes may have saved you some hurt in the future, but it would have never taught you the lessons you needed to learn.

In your time spent with them, you learned that it was okay to open your heart enough to make room for another. You could finally realize that vulnerability was not the enemy, and intimacy was not as terrifying as you had previously thought. In fact, it was incredibly enjoyable when shared with the right person. You learned that you had the ability to love, and what it meant to love another wholly and completely. Better yet, you were shown that you could be loved, which was something you had never felt before in your entire life. You had always taken the stance of keeping people out for two reasons; the damage they could cause, and the damage they would find. By doing so, you failed to realize that people could introduce a lot more into your life than just pain, and your demons were not as threatening with two people standing guard. You did not regret the decision to love both brothers, even though you knew that the future was not as bright as the beginning. You were thankful to finally know what it felt like to be loved by another, and that they made your realize that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else.

“I think that I’m going to need some time to think about all of this.” You said, wiping your cheeks clean from the sadness. “Maybe take a step back, just to straighten out my head.”

“As long as I leave here tonight knowing that you know how much I care about, you can take as much time as you need. I just need to know that you understand, and I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.” He was tempted to hold you, to take the initiative and wipe the tears from your face in hopes of washing the pain away, too. It was hard to resist, but he wanted you to decide if you wanted it or not. He was not going to be the person to push you to love him, because in reality, it would do nothing but push you away.

“Can we… tomorrow?” You asked, not feeling like shutting him out immediately after such confessions. “I don’t want to be responsible, yet. I just want to enjoy this for a little while longer. I’m going to take some time, but I’ll start in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He wanted clarification before jumping to action, needing to know that you were certain about your decision.

“We said I love you, Sam.” You managed a small laugh through the turmoil that was still ravaging your brain. “I think we’re allowed one night to enjoy it before we have to make any hard decisions.” He watched you for a moment, giving you ample opportunity to change your mind. When you showed no signs of regressing, he jumped from the bed with a new found burst of life. You barely had time to comprehend his sudden move before he was in front of you, reaching down and scooping you into his arms.

Despite the pain that was still thick in the air, you both found yourselves in a shriek of laughter. You wrapped your legs around him, cradling his face in your hands as he made sure you were secure in his grip. “Say it again.” His grin was blinding, making it hard to believe that there were tears in his eyes only moments before. “Please.”

“I love you, Sammy.” He let the words linger, revelling in the bliss before he pulled you into a kiss. It was messy, a show of desperation for each other after being deprived of it all night. It was the perfect show of the truth behind the saying ‘sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you’ve come across it’. You had lived your whole life without ever feeling love, romantic or otherwise, and now you were so full of it that you weren’t sure you could ever live without it. You had been so afraid of something that felt so good, even within its own repercussions. You knew you would even miss the bad that came along with it if you were ever deprived of love again.

“I love you,” he mumbled, barely taking the time to part from the kiss. “I love you,” he said again, his smile growing every time he spoke. “I love you so much, y/n.” You thought you would be able to live off the euphoria of being loved by him forever. You leaned forward for another kiss, laughing as you did so. The moment of childish glee was beautiful, especially after the weight of the conversation. It did not take long for the passion from the moment to manifest itself into something larger, neediness increasingly radiating from both of you the longer you had access to each other.

He carefully stepped backwards, lowering himself onto the mattress and gently settling you in his lap. When you were situated, you broke away for air. He took advantage of the opportunity and made a move to slip your shirt over your head. The sting of the air on your skin was a shock, but when his hands came back to you, you forgot the feeling almost instantly. As he brought his mouth back to your own, his fingers unhooked your bra. You dropped your arms from around his neck and let it fall to the floor with little care. He let his lips drift down your neck, gracing you with delicacy and adoration in the small movements. You let out a shaky breath as he worked his way downwards, pulling your nipple into his mouth to continue his physical show of love.

“God, Sam.” You breathed, the moment of physical intimacy amplifying the emotional intimacy you had divulged in. The feeling of his tongue on your skin was intoxicating, his touch similar to that of a wicked entity. The only thing that reminded you that it truly was Sam behind your pleasure was the familiarity of his hands and the weight of your adoration for him. You despised that both brothers seemed to make you into a fool for them with ease, like it was not a struggle for them to hold complete power over you with a single glance. Their power had only grown stronger over the months, and it could only be accredited to you falling victim to love. It was almost funny, how you claimed harm at their hands, but seemed to be holding the gun and prompting the pull of the trigger.

Your hips moved down on him, desperate for any type of friction to relieve the growing ache between your legs. One of his hands dropped downwards, settling on your ass and holding you to him, his own need showing through the small action. You let out a hiss of pleasure as he gently sunk his teeth into your nipple, the surprise of his action adding to the sensation. He broke away from you, looking up at you with lust heavily clouding his gaze. You were both long overdue for more, and weren’t willing to wait any longer. You shuffled to your feet, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them off in one swift motion. He let his eyes drift over your exposed skin, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to comprehend your beauty. He was practically feral at the sight, crazed at the thought of being able to see you in such a way, but he held himself back in hopes that you could make the night last as long as possible.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, catching your eye as he spewed out the compliment. You felt your cheeks heat red, a smile pulling on the corner of your lips as the words struck you like lightning. A compliment from Sam was worth the world and more, and you knew you could live off them for the rest of your life.

Everything about the brothers was so phenomenal that it made it hard to believe that they were real; you could not comprehend perfection taking form in a human body, but somehow the universe had managed it twice. You wanted to love them forever, to never know what it was like to be deprived of them, but you knew it was not plausible. It was time for you to grow up, to put a stop to the immature behaviour and finally begin to think first, rather than act. You had let the devil lead the way for far too long, and it was finally time to take back the power that you had willingly given away. The only way to stop the hurt was to stop the entanglement, and even if the idea of losing one or both of them hurt so badly, the decision was long overdue.

Then again, you would not be a Gold Dust Woman if not for your tendency to destroy yourself at the hands of your own desires. In true Gold fashion, you allowed the night to continue on even with the knowledge it would do nothing but make the choice even more difficult.

He stood, slipping his own shirt over his head. You felt the same skip in your heartbeat, the sight immediately taking your breath away. He noticed your reaction, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto his face. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, hoping that he couldn’t sense the nervousness in your tone. Somehow even after months, he still seemed to make you nervous when in his presence. He took a step towards you, cupping your cheek in his hand as he pulled you in for another kiss. It was like an addiction for him, almost impossible to resist. “Shower?” You mumbled against his lips, the idea enticing him almost as much as it did for you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He asked, barely parted from you. You let out a giggle, walking away in the direction of the bathroom. He followed closely, not willing to let you get too far away.

You flicked the light on, immediately reaching into the shower and turning on the faucet. Within a few seconds, steam had already began accumulating in the air. Instead of waiting for you to get in, Sam’s hands slipped around your waist. You smiled at the familiar feeling, wishing you could exist within his touch until the end of time. Something about his hands on you gave you the relief you’d been so deeply craving, and not in a sexual sense. The gentleness always eluded to a future without suffering, and even if the momentary touch was the only time you felt that way, it was nice to finally have some peace amidst the chaos.

He pulled you into him, limiting you from stepping into the shower. You wanted to complain, to voice your excitement for the soothing warmth of the water, but being in his arms always triumphed. He leaned down, letting his lips drift over your shoulders and any exposed part of your neck. Your eyes closed, melting into him and willing to accept whatever he had in store for you. With great care, he guided you towards the countertop until your back gently connected with it. The cold shocked you, searing your skin with the unfamiliar temperature, but you didn’t have time to think much about it. Sam had firmly grabbed your hips, lifting you up and setting you down in one swift motion. He moved forward, settling between your legs so easily, like he belonged there without question.

He brought his lips back to your own, but only for a moment. He worked his way down your neck, to your shoulders and down your chest. Slowly, he sunk to his knees before you with his head nestled comfortably between your thighs. You bit down on your lip, silencing the gasp that you so badly wanted to let out. Your heart was racing, overly excited for what was to come next. His fingers were branding his name into you forever. You knew that when the sun rose in the sky, and you took your inevitable step away, your body would still be littered with Sam. It would be so overwhelmingly obvious that distance would not even begin to diminish the strength in which you needed him. In a moment of weakness and fear of the aching loneliness that was to come, you almost jumped into his arms forever. After the moment passed, you knew you could not discard Jake so easily, especially after the raw intimacy you had shared with him.

When Sam’s mouth connected with your cunt, rationality was no longer the leading thought in your head. Although the devil continued to push you further into Sam’s arm, another one was holding you tightly, pleading with you to stop. At first glance, it seemed to want to protect you from the downfall you were headed towards by allowing Sam access to you while feeling such turmoil. Then again, it would not be the devil if it had no ill intent, and it was not holding you back in fear of soothing broken hearts. The part of you leaning away from Sam was leaning directly into Jake, serially motivated by the desire you had for him and your fear of letting him go. As much as you wanted to fall in love with Sam forever, it was just not possible at the moment. As much as you craved to be with Jake, the time was not right. Which was exactly why time is what you needed, spent away from them and their ability to captivate you. The closer you were with them, the harder it was to resist the love they gave to you. Pain was guaranteed either way, but you had to chose the option that you believed would hurt the least.

But only after one more bad decision, of course.

“Fuck,” you panted, chest burning from the lack of air in your lungs. Sam was working hard, determined to prove a point with his tongue. You weren’t certain exactly what he was trying to prove, but he was doing it well. The steam in the air was thick, melt from the shower but some purely from the energy between you both. Your hand was in his hair, gripping at the roots and holding him to you. He hummed against you, pleased with your enjoyment. It seemed the more disheveled you became, the harder he worked to make it worse. “G-god, Sam. Please don’t stop.” You whined as your head fell backwards. Your eyes were squeezed shut, the burning in your belly almost unbearable.

He used his hands on your hips to pull you closer to the edge, tongue never faltering as he did so. He dropped his arm from the hold he had on you and added his fingers to you, slowly pumping them as he moved his mouth upwards to focus on your clit. The moans you were expelling were vulgar, painting the walls with every sin you already had, and continued to commit. You were so lost in pleasure that any thoughts of right and wrong had disintegrated into nothing. Everything was Sam; you felt like you were being consumed by him, his aura so powerful that you were crumbling into nothing. Dying would be an honour if it were at his hands, and you knew that the descent would be nothing but comfortable as long as you could feel his touch until the bitter end. “Sam,” you repeated, unsure if you could hold back your orgasm any longer. He curled his fingers upwards as he pumped them into you, a small encouragement for you to let go.

With the slight change in angle and the relentless speed of his tongue, your legs began to shake. Your muscled tensed, and you felt yourself clench against his fingers. With only last warning, so weak that it barely sounded over the putter of water against the shower floor, your climax washed over you. Your chest ached from the intensity, limbs begging you to relax, but you couldn’t seem to slow the ferocity of the moment. Your head was spinning, filling with thoughts of nothing but the boy between your legs. You were so filled with love for him that you thought your heart may explode. As you came down, sweat glistening on your skin and the pleasure settling into a dull tingle across your body, you finally managed to get a full breath into your lungs. As you did, Sam slowly tapered his pace to a stop, moving away from you to catch his own breath.

You released your hold on his hair, an apologetic look crossing your face for the strength in which you were holding it. He seemed unbothered at the action, eyes still closed in bliss as he ghosted kisses over your thighs. You let your hand fall to his cheek, appreciating him as he showed you the act of kindness. “Shower?” You asked, voice still airy from the intoxication of the orgasm. He let out a hum, too enthralled in you to care about a verbal answer. You managed a small giggle at his enamouring expression, but ultimately had to put a stop to his admiration. “We’ve wasted enough water, come on.” You said, ushering him to stand. He obliged, although not voluntarily. He helped you off the counter, pulling you into him for a moment as he placed a kiss on your head.

“You first,” he promoted, moving out of your way. You slid the glass door open, stepping under the droplets and immediately feeling the relaxing warmth. He followed suit, closing the door behind him. As you sat under the stream of water, he took the opportunity to have the moment of closeness he had been craving so badly. He wrapped his arms around you, hands settling on your lower stomach as he guided you into him. With your back against his chest and his hands on you, you felt unstoppable. The warm water alongside the memory of the orgasm only solidified the feeling. Sam made you feel like you were on top of the world, like nothing could ever hurt you. His love was like a cushion of protection, keeping you away from any harm as long as he was with you.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” You said, leaning your head back to rest on him, too.

“We can, princess.” He reminded, the small seed of evil planting in your brain effortlessly. He would do whatever it took to keep you in his arms, and if it meant persuading, he was already thinking of a million reason as to why you should stay. “If that’s what you want, we can do that.”

“I know, and I do.” You said, but you didn’t have to finish the statement. He wasn’t ready to face any type of rejection, and you were not willing to dish it out. His hope, although blind by times, was the only thing giving him the will to keep going. “I love you.” You changed topics, hoping the blow would lessen by the sweet phrase. You wished you didn’t already have to use it as an apology, but being apologetic had been the only thing you knew how to do as of recent. You were always sorry for the pain you were inflicting, even if they knew that it was coming. You wondered why it was so common to hurt the ones you love the most, and if it was uncommon, why it was so simple for the three of you to do.

“I know, and I love you, too.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to your cheek. It was beautiful, how much he cared despite knowing how bad it hurt him. You turned your head to meet his mouth, the confession still hitting as hard as it did the first time. You could feel his erection against you; he was desperate for relief even if he was enjoying the sweetness of the moment. You pushed your hips back on him, also eager for the main event after such an emotional night. His grip tightened, enticed by the small movement. The kiss grew messy, both of you at a breaking point long before you ever got into the shower.

He spun you, pushing you against the wall with a new-found energy. Your upper half was flush with the cool tile, and he pulled your hips back to grant himself access to you. He lined himself up with your entrance, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he pushed his own forward. You both let out a sigh of relief at the feeling, knowing that there were few things in the world that felt as good as it did. “God, you feel so fucking good.” He muttered, closing his eyes to focus only on the way you felt wrapped around him. The heat of the water only amplified every sensation, the steam filling your senses and your brains with the obscene energy that it had leeched from you both. You were feral for each other, uncaring of anything other than the sexual desire between you. The encounter was no longer a solidification of the vulnerability you had shared, but now a need that far outweighed any other that had previously existed.

Sam surpassed any normal person in terms of desire, and quickly manifested himself as one of the most important things to ever exist to you. The thought of being without him was excruciating, and the only thought worse than ones of death. “Harder, please.” You groaned, hands supporting yourself on the wall as he fucked into you. He obliged to the request with little hesitation, pulling you back on him as he thrusted forward. He snaked one hand to your hair, knotting it in his fist and pulling your head away from the wall. He leaned forward, letting his lips rest on your ear as he placed a small kiss to it.

“Does that feel good, princess?” He crooned, voice low and settling straight into your soul. You let out a moan, unable to verbally express the pleasure he was giving you. His grip in your hair tightened, snapping you back to reality for a moment.

“F-feels so good, Sammy.” You muttered, feeling another groan tear through your chest. He hummed against your ear, letting his teeth sink into your earlobe to show his enjoyment of the sounds you were making for him.

“Just want to make you feel good, baby.” His tone was husky, coated with lust and showcasing his desire. He turned your head to the side, just enough so he could capture you in a kiss. He continued moving his hips, never slowing his pace. You let a moan slip into his mouth, driving him further into the cloud of euphoria that was slowly engulfing him. He slipped his hand from your hip, wrapping it around you and settling his fingers between your legs. He began tracing slow circles on your already sensitive clit, making the feeling of every movement even more powerful. You pushed your hips back on him, not ashamed to show him your need for him. A growl came from deep in his chest as he parted from you, the small movement sending him into a frenzy.

He dropped his hand from your hair and used it to hold your hips in place as he began his frenzied attempt to drive you to an orgasm. He didn’t need to try very hard; the knot in your stomach was tightening with every second that passed. “Fuck,” you whined, the fire consuming every nerve in your body.

“Come on, sweet girl.” He encouraged. “Cum for me, baby.” His words hit you hard, the impact nearly stealing the air from your lungs and making your legs grow limp. His hands were holding you steady, making sure you were secure so you didn’t have to worry about anything but your pleasure. You let out another moan, desperation evident in the sound. He continued his relentless effort, moving his fingers faster and with more precision.

“Sam,” you breathed, feeling the pressure reach a peak. Your body tensed as your breath caught in your throat. You tried repeating his name, but it was a useless endeavour. No coherent thoughts were forming, and the only thing coming from your mouth was a slur of curses and moans. Your legs were shaking, weak as they struggled to hold your weight and your heart was erratic against your rib cage.

“That’s it, beautiful.” He coaxed you through, slowly tapering his pace. When your body relaxed and you gained strength to keep yourself upright, he slowed to a stop. “How was that?”

“S-so good,” you stuttered, heaving a heavy breath. He let out a chuckle, amused by your disarray as he pulled out of you. You managed a small groan of discontent at the loss of the feeling, but he ignored you. He gently spun you around so you were facing him, leaning in for a kiss. The gentle action was greatly appreciated; your body was still recovering from the excitement of the moment. His hands planted on your hips once more, but this time he lifted you. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him as your hands snaked around his neck. He pressed your back against the tile, the cold surface a shock, but you were too tired to care. He pressed his lips to yours once more as he lined himself up once again. When he was certain his grip on you was secure enough, he pulled you down on him. You lacked any self control, the feeling euphoric and the sound that came out of you matched the sensation.

“How’s that, Princess?” He hummed, resting his forehead on your own for a heightened sense of intimacy. “Is that better?”

“Mhm,” you nodded against him, tangling your fingers in his hair. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, but the barrier of your bodies was prohibiting what you needed to satisfy the desire. You felt like his being was too powerful; it was consuming you and leaving behind a shell of what you once were. Sometimes, especially in moments like the one you were sharing with him then, it felt like your sole purpose was to love Sam, or to be loved by him, but truth behind the thought was almost too much to bear. There was a part of you devoted to Sam, wanting nothing but to love him for the rest of time, but there was another part that felt the same about Jake. It was horrendous knowing that you could never love one fully without loving the other.

“Give me one more, baby.” He pleaded, fingers bruising the skin as he continued to pull your hips down on him. The request was simple to fulfill, and you knew that it would not take much for him to get what he wanted.

“If you cum with me,” you placed down your own term before an agreement.

“That’s what you want?” He questioned, trying to make it seem like your words did not bother him. In truth, he was struggling to hold himself back and your statement had only driven him closer to the edge.

“God, yes. Please, baby.” You whined, knowing that the longer he was inside you, the closer you were being pushed to insanity. He let out a low sigh, sent into a downward spiral at the sound of your desperation. He hoped he could hold off for long enough to make you cum, and you were hoping to hold off for long enough to please him. You were both hoping for something that meant nothing; the pleasure that was upon you both was too good to refute, and a climax was easier to attain than anything else.

Your mind was abuzz with the love you had for him, the intensity growing with the steady movement of his thrusts. You were delirious, body exhausted from the continuous pleasure and muscles aching from the strain. The water soothed only enough to keep you going, but Sam’s hands were what made you feel best. “I love you,” he whispered. You felt your stomach burn with desire as he voiced the same thought that had been so pressing all night. You knew you could never get sick of him saying it, and you knew you could listen to him say those three words and survive solely off the feeling it provided.

“I love you, Sam.” You groaned, the climax threatening to take hold. “I love you so much.” He pulled you down harder, his cock slamming against your cervix in a pleasurable type of pain. You let out a cry, the sudden sensation immediately sending you into a third orgasm. You were lost in euphoria, barely existing within the same realm anymore. You clenched around him, singing his name as if it was a hymn and he was the god you were praying to. From the sight of your descent alone, it send him over the edge with no mercy. He held you down on him, uttering curses as he spilled his release into you. By the time you both came down, you were breathless and seeing stars. You held each other close in hopes that you could make the moment last forever, but you knew that nothing this fantastic could ever last. The harrowing reality was just around the corner, and you had to understand that this was the last night you could spend with Sam before you had to make the final decision.

He loosened his grip on you, carefully letting you down to your feet and holding you steady in fear your legs might give out. You leaned into his chest, craving comfort after the chaos. You wanted for everything to be over, for the pain to stop and for the happy to last, but you knew that the hurt was only beginning and bound to stay for a while. You listened to his heartbeat as it slowed in his chest, soothed immediately by your touch. “Here,” he said, shifting so you could be fully under the stream of warm water. You let out a hum of satisfaction, the heat soothing any ache that was lingering. He looked around, grabbing a bottle of shampoo while you enjoyed the water. He lathered some in his hands and ushered you back towards him. You rested your back on his chest once more while he brought his hands to your hair, gently rubbing the shampoo into the roots.

You could have fallen asleep in his arms with how relaxing the feeling was. He was gentle, using great caution in fear he might pull on the strands the wrong way. When he was satisfied with his work, he helped you rinse the soap from your hair. He repeated his actions with the conditioner you had sitting on a shelf and held you until you found the energy to wash the rest of your body. He washed his own hair while you scrubbed away the filth of the sins you had partaken in, but the feeling of Sam could never really be washed away. You both finished the normal shower routine and sat in each others company for a moment before turning off the faucet.

When you got out, Sam found a towel on the rack by the sink. He wrapped you in one before worrying about himself, fearful that the temperature change might disturb you. With a small smile on your lips and love in your heart, you both returned to the bedroom with intent to sleep. “I’d like to stay, if that’s okay. If not, I understand.”

“Of course you can, Sammy.” You said, dropping your towel to the floor as you climbed in bed. “I can worry about everything else in the morning, but for now, I want you here with me.” He couldn’t hide the blinding smile he adorned at the sound of your statement. He climbed into bed, pulling you into his arms in one swift motion. You let out a giggle at his enthusiasm, but you knew that you were feeling the same way just from the thought of sleeping by his side.

“I don’t care who you pick, y/n.” He started, letting his fingers trace shapes into the soft skin of your back. “I hope it’s me, but I just want you to be happy. No matter what happens, I’m thankful that I got the chance to love you, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“I’m grateful for that, too.” You agreed, feeling his words settle into your chest and begin to make your heart ache. You closed your eyes, but your mind was far from asleep. You were dreading the morning because it signified separation and moving on, two things that you were far from ready to do. Even if it was the right choice, it did not mean it hurt any less. Same eyes were closed too, thinking about the same things that were disturbing you. Neither of you spoke about them, and neither of you seemed to curb the fear of loss.

It seemed like such a shame for so much love to be shared between the three of you, especially knowing that the end would be nothing but painful. It was a shame that your first experience with love would ultimately burn you and everyone caught in the crossfire. But, it seemed as though your biggest fear of all was not to love or to hurt, but rather the fear of never wanting to love again after the storm settled. For your entire life, you were horrified of vulnerability, and intimacy was the enemy. Now that you experienced it both so beautifully and profoundly, you were most afraid of never feeling it again. You were terrified of being the Gold Dust Woman from the story, rather than the one Jake viewed you as. Beautiful but empty, cold and distant, and always searching for a thrill, yet forever too scared to take the leap. You hoped that you could remain the person Jake had viewed you has when he gave the nickname, but you knew it was not the case. There was only one way to be a Gold Dust Woman, and it was not in any way he chose to perceive you. You had become all that you swore not to be, and there was no escape from it.

Love was no longer the cause of your downfall; in fact, it never really was. It had always been yourself, even if you chose to remain blind to the harsh reality. The problem found home within you, and this time, you had no one else left to blame.

Did she shatter your illusions of love?

Come on, did you really think I’d let Sam go down without a fight? ;)

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye

[ndostairlyrium]

15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @greypetrel 💛 thank you dear, scrolling through the pages was super sweet and it reminded me that doing something for myself without stressing too much on how it could be perceived was one of the best decisions I've ever made ;; <3

So, luckily for you I only have just a dozen of chapters translated so you're getting just the Haven + trip to Skyhold arcs :' there she's more jokes oriented wait until the trip to the Dales kicks in

🌸💀 Ankh before the "Lav" 💀🌸

"I should have listened to you. And this will be the first and last time you ever hear me say it!"

"Every culture strives to make [death] poetic in order to make sense of the pain of loss, but reality is much more selfless than any theory."

"This is the point at which I usually lay out my theory to Varric and he raises ten coppers that the situation is actually far worse than what it seems."

"I'm not "an elf". I'm the one who’s going to send you chopping wood with a butter knife, if you keep this attitude."

"Do you really want me to strip completely naked and dance around the fire, hooting in the moonlight under the influence of psychotropic mushrooms?" she paused. "With this cold?

"They give us a certificate along with the rabbit ears when we sprout from the ground."

"This isn't caution, it's lack of decency. If a man is hovering at the edge of a ravine, you carry him to safety, you don't check his ears first. And don't tell me it's a coping mechanism, or I'll tell Sera where you sleep!"

"And if I die, I'd like you to use my skull as a candle holder. Whatever Avaar may say, skulls make terrible mugs."

"I don't believe in redemption. It's like giving candy to a child after class. Mistakes are not stains, they are a reference point for those who make them to spur themselves to do better. They should be welcomed as much as a person's merits. They exist for those who suffer them and for those who make them, to help them give direction to their path"

"Don't transfer your inability to flirt to the Chantry, mister. It's too convenient."

"Not you too, please! You can't catch the plague if you sleep in the same room with an elf. It's scientifically proven. Unless the elf has the plague, but you can notice it on the fly." she pointed at her face with a circular gesture. "Bubbons, blisters, death."

"Oh, shut up! Thanks to my stubbornness, latrines have never been so clean!"

"I complained as well myself, but your saints have a no refunds policy."

"Humans are fickle, huh? First they hate me, then they praise me, then they forget me, and now it seems like I'm the heroine of all lost causes all over again. In all of this... where's my darn griffin?"

"Oh, I have no weapons; I have an arsenal. And if I really wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be here now. I know where you sleep, I know your patterns, and it would take very little to convince most of the Inquisition elves that inside the council chambers there's an individual worth shaving at night."

-

I'm tagging: @herearedragons and @bruxbea

If you want to get tagged too just drop a ✨ in the replies u-u

[elena-mayfair]

Through the Nightmare

Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader Warnings: swearing, blood, adult themes, horror images, possible triggers Summary: You are a sorceress and exorcist dreaming nightmares every night and at the end of every and each of them you end up in the Dreaming and you see him. One night after revealing himself to you he showed you his world and asked for your help. Now the time has come to keep the promise that you gave him. Word count:4.5k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors

Part one: Lost in the dream Part two: Back in the dream Part three: Through the Dreaming Part four: In the Waking World Part five: Before the Nightmare

***

"I work alone" these were the last words she said before entering the building. Alone. Morpheus refused to stay in the hotel room, he did not ask her to keep her company, did not argue, just walked with her all the way up to the entry door. Once there, she did not look at him, did not bestow a smile on him, did not utter a word, and neither did he. He just quietly observed her as she used the key and locked the door behind her. He thought to himself that perhaps he should give her some words of assurance, utter simple good luck, or be careful perhaps, after all, humans needed that. That stayed in his thoughts only. It was because of his actions she was here. He put her in this scenario. She was right, he could choose someone else, he could find John Constantine, who served him well in the past, and yet he choose her. Standing under a stone archway near the building she was in, he couldn't help but wonder about his decisions. And yet, he had to know...

"I want to see what she is doing," he spoke to his raven.

"Boss, are these doors stopping you from entering?" Matthew asked sarcastically.

"That was not a request." with that statement Matthew spread his wings and flew up into the sky. Morpheus could see her clearly through his raven's eyes.

Y/N was walking around the apartment with the speed and grace of a wild wolf, the kind that he had seen in the woods ages ago. Her delicate and fluid moves reminded him of woodland nymphs dancing in the moonlight, her sudden gazes and sharp head turns brought memory of a hunter stalking his prey. Even though the light in the apartment was turned off she seemed to see everything with perfect clarity. She moved from one corner to another corner of the apartment and placed protective crystals in each and every one of them. Pyrites, known for their ability to defuse destructive energy. "She knows what she's doing," he thought and observed how she removed the carpet from the floor to make sure that marked sigils are still there. Devils trap, an ancient magical symbol used for trapping demons in place. He had not seen this symbol for centuries. She carefully checked every line twice, making sure that the white paint is intact. With one swift move of her hand she placed the carpet back in its place, it was a small yet so interesting display of magic. She placed salt lines in every doorway and on every window, he had to order Matthew to fly away so she could not notice him. Yet for a moment she stopped and looked outside the window, carefully scouting the night sky and tree line. He decided that she could not see him. She marked the last salt line and retrieved a gun from behind her back. This took him by surprise. She must have hidden it earlier by the waistband of her jeans but he didn't notice. "How could I have missed it," he thought. Y/N unlocked the gun, reloaded it, checked the chamber, then tucked the weapon again behind her back. Lastly, she reached her hand into her neckline under her blouse and pulled out a necklace on top. He ordered Matthew to fly closer and saw that in her hand she held an amulet, a pentacle, and an amethyst, joined together. She squeezed the amulet tighter in her hand before letting it fall slowly back on her neck. She was ready. She backed away into the shadows and took a waiting position. Like a wolf crouched in the shadows waiting for its prey. In the darkness of the room, the only bright spots were the silver necklace on top of her black blouse and her shining eyes.

"Boss? You want me to get closer?" he heard Matthew's voice even though the raven was far away from him.

"No," he replied without saying any words out loud. With a corner of his eyes, he noticed the couple entering the building. The man looked proud, and the woman looked frightened. "Stay where you are," he added.

As the boss ordered so Matthew did. Not a long moment passed when the sound of the door lock opening made Y/N's eyes narrow and her position changed, ready to attack. She slowly pulled her gun from behind her belt and huddled in the shadows, waiting.

"The night was lovely," the woman, Christen, said with forced politeness. It always amazed Morpheus how easily humans lied to each other, how effortlessly they played their roles against their will.

"I want a drink," was the only thing the man said. All three Matthew, Morpheus, and Y/N saw him directing himself in the opposite direction from the one she was in. It was a waiting game. In the room she was in it was still dark. Purposely she selected the living room, based on Christen's letter mister Jackson, or at least the demon in him, played the role of career man. And what else career man can do after returning home other than drinking some fancy alcohol in his fancy chair while watching the news and making plans for the growth and expansion of his fancy business? So she waited.

"I'll get you one," Christen said "You go and relax hun" nervous blab came out.

Morpheus saw Y/N move herself up quietly, he knew it was a bad move from Christen's side, and so did she.

"Hun?" The demon stopped in mid-step "Hun? Are you fucking joking right now?"

"I don't know what you mean," Christen tried to shrug it off.

"Hun?" the demon laughed and what came out of his mouth made Christen shrink down a bit, "What did you do?" he growled

"I didn't do anything!" she defended herself "I just wanted to be nice!"

"To be nice?!" he took few steps towards her and grabbed her by the throat, he pulled her up in the way that she could no longer touch the ground with her feet and brought her crying face to him "And since when exactly you are nice you stupid useless blood bag?"

Morpheus saw Y/N securing her fingers on the gun while at the same time with her other hand reaching out for the knife. The waiting game was over, he knew that she didn't want to risk a woman's life, she rather risks her own. At the same moment when Morpheus ordered his raven to knock on the window to get the demons' attention Y/N jumped out of the shadows and threw her knife at the demon's back. She was no longer a wolf, she was a viper, attacking his oblivious prey.

"Hey! Fuckface! Leave her alone!" she taunted. She stood in the living room doorway, luring the demon in. The creature slowly released his hold on Christen's throat and turned itself toward her. He reached out and pulled the knife out of his shoulder.

"And who the fuck are you," his eyes burned red.

"I am Karma you ugly son of a bitch," she grinned at him.

Morpheus was observing it all with admiration and curiosity. To him she was so fearless at that moment, willingly putting her life in danger in order to save an innocent woman. At that moment, he realized that for her it wasn't because she had made a promise to help him, but because she had made a promise to herself to help this woman.

"Come on you ugly fuck, let's dance!" she taunted him even more.

And so it did. Upon seeing the carvings on the knife, the demon dashed toward her. Its speed was too great for a mortal, its agility too formidable for her to resist. But she did resist. She danced and whirled around him like the demon itself dodging his attacks and blows. Every time he tried to grab her she dodged, every time he tried to strike her with a knife she evaded him. She tried to draw him into the trap she had set. Not to kill, not to exorcise, she had to trap him. So she danced around him like a she-wolf dancing around her lured prey for several long minutes. Morpheus knew that for a mortal, a few seconds of such a dance with a demon seemed like an eternity. He saw Y/N weaken. The demon swung and cut her arm with her own knife.

She hissed at him and rolled backwards. She wanted him to follow her, and he did so right into the trap. Pretending to be defeated huddled on the ground she viciously waited for his final attack but it did not come. The demon raised his knife hand upward, took a swing but his hand hung in the air. Confusion painted itself on his face when he saw Y/N peering at him with a devious smile and satisfaction in her eyes. It was only at that moment that he noticed her outstretched hand and spread palm facing him. She smiled venomously and pushed him backwards with her power, straight into the trap she had set.

"Witch," the demon gritted through his teeth.

"You know, I really do not like this word," she rose to a standing position and pointed her gun at him, "It has a bad ring to it, "she sassed and fired her gun.

The demon only laughed at her with hoarse growl.

"Gun?! Really?!" he taunted "I'm a demon you stupid bitch! Gun can't hurt me!!"

Morpheus watched as Y/N's took several steps toward the demon. Her movements smooth and confident, there was not a trace of fear in them. A sinister smile adorned her face, betraying that she knew something the demon did not. Her eyes narrowed, satiated, she had him exactly where she wanted him. She approached him at arm's length and looked at him menacingly.

"I know," she said quietly, "But it can trap your sorry ass." with a smooth motion of her hand, she pulled the rug out from under his feet with power, knocking him over in the process. The devil's trap was revealed. The demon growled at her dangerously. "Oh stop with the growls, they are ridiculous!" she laughed at him "This is how it's going to be," she crouched down and stretched her open hand in front of her, making her knife obediently fly to her, "As you see, devil's trap," she twirled the knife in her fingers, "that bullet in you, enchanted, so if you were thinking about leaving this body, don't bother" she grinned at him.

"You killed this body," he said, the tone of his voice becoming more cautious.

"Do I really look I care?" she raised her eyebrow.

Morpheus was observing all this through his raven eyes in amazement. Eons of existence had made him stop noticing the complexity of mortal creatures, the delicacy of their existence, the strength of their being. He stopped noticing the beauty of mortal life. He watched Y/N with bewilderment, so merciless and yet so kind, so gentle and carefree and yet so threatening, her life could have fled at any moment but at that moment, at that moment he knew Y/N felt more alive than ever.

"What is the point of all of it," Demon asked "Just exorcise me and let's be done with it."

"Oh, wouldn't you want that," she made a dismissive gesture with her knife "I've got some questions for you."

"Do you now?" he growled.

"There is a rumor on the street that one of you sons of bitches has something that belongs to one of the Endless," she started "I want to know which one."

"Oh come on Witch!" he emphasized the last word "You do not actually expect that I'm going to tell you anything!"

Y/N extended her hand in front of her and turned her wrist slightly. The demon immediately fell to the floor and recoiled in pain catching his guts.

"Actually, I do!" she smirked at him and stepped closer positioning herself right at the edge of the circle of devil traps, "Dreams helm, who has it!" she said with a commanding voice.

"Don't know what you're talking about!!" the demon knelt down and shrieked in pain.

Morpheus watched her display of power with fascination. She only grinned wider and twisted her wrist a little more. The demon wailed in pain and the infernal sounds echoed throughout the room.

"Morpheus. Helm," she demanded, "Name."

"Never heard of it..." the demon started but before he could finish Y/N stretched her other hand in front of her causing the demon's body to convulse.

"Name," she demanded.

"This is not how we do things, your kind, and mine, " he choked out, "I possess and you sent me back to hell."

"Oh I'm changing the rules, " she smugged "You going to give me the name and I will kill you."

"You cannot kill me," he reeled in pain.

"You wanna bet?" she grinned and twisted both of her hands slightly.

"Stop!!!" the demon wailed pleadingly "Fine! Fine! I'll tell you! Just send me back to hell already!"

"Go on,"

"It's Etrigan! He's got Dreams helm!"

She twisted her hands making his body twitch again. The drool rolled out of the demon's human mouth, blood began to flow from his eyes and mouth but she did not stop pressing. Morpheus calmly observed her mercilessness, watched her power, the power he hadn't seen in millennia. The power that should have ceased to exist long ago.

"I've...told...you...," he was choking on blood.

"You lied. I hate liars." she replied calmly "I know Etrigan, I know you are lying. Tell me who has Morpheus's helm!"

"So you could run back to him and tell him?" the demon suddenly rose his bloody eyes at her and smiled horribly "Tell me, Witch, what did he promise you that made you do his bidding?"

A shadow of surprise flashed across Y/N's face upon hearing the demon's words. Her pressure on his mangled body eased enough for the demon to rise to his knees and look at her with his deformed bloody face.

"You from all people should know that dreams do not come true," he laughed mockingly and followed with his eyes to the window, "Dreams' puppet on the strings. He already knows who you are, bitch."

Seeing this, Morpheus ordered his raven to retreat immediately but it was too late. Through the raven's eyes, her gaze met his. A mixture of rage and disappointment stirred in her eyes. Before he had time to retreat Y/N's smirked and with a smooth movement of her hand created a wall of blackness dividing him from her, blocking his view.

"I am no one's puppet" she gritted through her teeth and pressed the demon to the floor with all her power. Its body opened with a thousand wounds, blood began to ooze onto the floor in continuous streams, while the demon inside the human body began to burn. As if in the distance she heard the woman's terrified screams but she ignored them. All her power was focused on the demon and only it. Furious, betrayed, she vented all her anger, all the frustration she had been bottling inside her for months on the bleeding human body and its demonic parasite.

"It's Choronzon..." the demon grunted out and blood splattered from his mouth "His name is Choronzon..."

"See, that is what I call cooperation," she smirked and amplified her power on the demon tearing its form from the inside piece by piece.

"You have to send me back to hell..." she heard but a sound coming out of the hole where there used to be a mouth. "You...can't...kill me...Lucifer...you can't..."

"Watch me," she smirked and abruptly spread her outstretched arms in front of her. The demon rose several feet above the ground...

"Y/N Stop!" she heard a distant commanding voice. Morpheus stood in the doorway of the room, his eyes focused on her. Her power enthralled him, almost with the same force with which her unbridled anger saddened him. "I command you to stop!" 

"Listen to your boss witch," she focused on the growly noise in front of her. These were the last sounds that he made. She twisted her spread arms and ripped him into pieces. The human body exploded splitting the blood all over her, the demon vanished.

Morpheus watched her bloodied tired figure breathing deeply, with calmness, as if something horrible had just escaped her body. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. Anger and disappointment gave way to satisfaction and amusement. She smiled warmly at him.

"See?" she smirked, "I told you that I will get you his name" she took two steps towards him but her knees collapsed beneath her. She was exhausted. She has kept her promise...

***

You really wanted to keep your posture but you had to admit to yourself, that you exhausted your body more than ever before. You took two steps toward Morpheus and you felt your knees bending under your own weight. "Fuck!" you swore in your thoughts attempting to stand straight but your legs refused to obey you. The feeling of relief came out of nowhere, just a swift gentle wind around you and suddenly you could stand up straight again. You felt Morpheus's solid yet delicate hand on your lower back, while his other placed your arm over his shoulder. That brought chills down to your spine and somehow terrified you more than the demon you just killed. His eyes were staring at you relentlessly with a mix of care, sorrow, and something else, something that you could not name. His marble face was so close to yours, that you could feel his breath calming your skin, bringing the scent of an endless green field and mountain breeze when suddenly you realized...

"I have demon blood on my face, have I?" you asked shyly. He only smiled slightly with his barely visible smile. "Oh god," you buried your bloody face in his shoulder embarrassed, "Oh god!" you gasped upon seeing bloody stains on his perfectly black coat.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly, "You killed him..." he looked at the remaining parts of the host body.

"Yup!" you were proud of yourself "and I got you the name! Cha...Cho..." you struggled "Charizard!"

"Choronzon," he corrected you.

"That!"

"You should not have done that," he stated quietly.

"What the fuck you mean I shouldn't do that!" you frowned "he was a demon, and now there is no demon! One point for me, zero for Hell!"

"We should go," he stated again. You were starting to hate his commanding tone. He gently tried to direct your useless body towards the door.

"Wait..." you placed your hand on his chest not thinking about it twice, "I need a moment." you tried to stand on your own feet. Morpheus reluctantly moved his hand off your back making sure with his eyes that you would not fall. "I'm good," you tapped his chest gently, "I'm good..." you added more to yourself than to him.

You slowly approached Christen who was limping against the wall in terror. You extended your hand to her and her gaze followed looking first at your hand, then at your bloody smiling face. Christen grasped your hand and allowed you to help her stand on her own two feet.

"I'm sorry for what you had to witness," you started "I will admit that I used your case for my own gain. I needed that information," you explained, and upon seeing her nodding slightly you continued "You will be safe from now on. I find no word in me to express how sorry I am for the horror that you had to live through. But it is over now. You and your son will be safe. You survived the years of terror with him, you will survive this. You are a strong woman Christen. You will be alright," you held her hands in yours and spoke with a calm assuring voice.

"But how," she uttered with a shaking voice, "How do I move forward?"

"It's simple," you smiled genuinely, "You just have to believe that dreams, real dreams, do come true." you released your hands and looked back at the Dream with a smile on your face "We can go now."

He approached you and placed his hand back on your lower back but instead of directing you towards the door he reached down to his pocket and took out the pouch of sand.

"Dream I don't..." you stared but the way he looked at you made you stop mid sentence.

"Your body has been through enough today," he said calmly.

You saw him reach into the pouch and pull out a handful of sand. He let the golden grains sift through his fingers. To you, it looked like he let himself feel each and every one of them. He waved his wrist gently and the golden spirals wrapped around you, surrounding you with dancing sand on all sides. As it danced, whirled, twisted, enveloping you in golden dust, it transported you back to your hotel room in the blink of an eye.

"Magical..." you whispered. You wanted to move but you realized that his hand was still placed firmly on your back, "I've got your perfect coat all stained with blood," you tried to defuse the tension.

"You're hurt," he replied ignoring your previous statement.

"It's not mine," you looked down at yourself and noticed that you are covered in blood. You thanked yourself for taking spare clothes with you. You looked up at Morpheus standing still just an inch from you, "Did anyone ever told you that you have severe trust issues?" you smirked.

He only looked down on your slashed arm and back at you.

"I've had worst," you said, "trust me." you released yourself from his hold and moved to your bag for a first aid kit and spare clothes. You desperately needed a shower. "What now? We've got a demon name, what's our next step?" you asked.

"I'm going to Hell to retrieve my helm," he answered with as much ease as if he had said it would rain tomorrow.

"What?!" you gasped, "What do you mean, you going to Hell?! Like physically going to Hell, as in...as to Hell?!"

"My sand can take me there," he explained calmly.

"Hold on!" you dropped your first aid kit and your clothes onto the bed and walked towards him, "Here me out! You do not have to go to Hell!" he looked at you with curiosity and rose his eyebrow, "I know, I know, trust is not your strong suite and believe me we will talk about this, but if you would, if you could trust me again," you continued, "I could bring the demon to you!" you offered.

"You displayed remarkable power today," he noticed.

"Great!" you clapped your hands satisfied that he agreed even though he did not, "Summoning a demon is much easier than going to Hell and finding it don't you agree?" you smiled brightly, but when he did not reply you simply stated, "We gonna do some summoning and you will have your helm in no time! And now, forgive me my Lord, but I desperately need a shower."

***

~~Week later~~

You thought that you saw weird and unexplainable things in your lifetime, after all just a week ago you shredded a demon out of existence, but seeing Morpheus, the anthropomorphic personification of a Dream itself, sitting on your couch, in your apartment, causally sipping a tea from your favorite cup was the weirdest thing of them all. Somehow you convinced him that summoning a demon is better than going the Hell, and made him agree to your plan. Now, he was relaxing on your couch while you were peppering yourself and your surrounding for the summoning ritual. "Causal Sunday afternoon," you thought to yourself, "Litteral personification of a Dream and Witch preparing for summoning the demon."

"You're smiling," he noted. He seemed so relaxed in your presence, so humane, so normal, that for a moment you forgot who he really was.

"Nothing, it's just funny you know?"

"What is?"

"This!" you pointed out on the devils' trap, candles, herbs, everything around you, "You, me! This! It's kinda funny you know," you smiled.

"You do not seem to be uncomfortable," his lips twitched slightly.

"Neither do you," you smirked, "Alright! I'm done! Come here" you order him. He placed a teacup on the table and stepped closer, placing himself next to you, "Take my hand," you ordered but upon seeing his gaze you explained, "I know the demon's name, you know your helm which I have never seen. Combine these two, we have a stronger spell," he took your hand and locked it in his. "Now just relax, breath, and focus on your helm," you instructed and started an incantation.

Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me! Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me! Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me!

You were expecting the candlelight to go off, herbs to burn down and demon to show up inside the devil's trap. Instead, you felt the ground shaking underneath your feet, tipping over the teacup, throwing your books off the shelves. You closed your eyes, squeezed Morpheus's hand, and focused all your power on the spell.

Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me! Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me! Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me! Et ad congregandum eos coram me!

"Come here you stupid fuck!" you swore.

"But I am here..." you heard a gentle kind voice in your head. You quickly released Morpheus's hand and opened your eyes.

The ground shaking stopped, the spell was broken, and what you saw before you made the blood freeze in your veins. A picture of utter devastation and destruction unfolded before your eyes. The sky above your head was black and thick with smoke and the ground beneath your feet was scorched, dead. Before your eyes stretched a wall made of human bodies, deformed beyond recognition. In the middle of the wall was a narrow passage, a gate, surrounded by fire on both sides.

"I don't think we are in Kansas anymore," you gasped.

"No," Morpheus took two steps forward and positioned himself in front of you, hiding you behind his back, protecting you, "We are in Hell."

~~***~~

Authors note: Part six is done! Oh my lord, I had so much fun writing this chapter! Switching POVs, adding long awaited, at least by me, bloody horror element. It was awesome to write this! And now...what will happen now since we are not in Kansas anymore :) I hope you will like this chapter as much as I do :) I want to take a moment to thank you all again for all of your comments, likes, reblogs, and messages. You guys are truly amazing! You really have no idea how much this story, and all that happened after I published the first part, how much all this means to me. All I can do, as an expression of my gratitude, is deliver the best chapters I can possibly write. Sadly, I must inform you, that from now on I won't be able to publish as much as I did during this week. I had some time off work and I've been able to write every day. But sadly vacation is over, real life is calling, and I have to go back to work. Since I will have much less of free time I won't be able to publish daily. But I think I can do two chapters per week :) I really really want to continue this story with my renewed drive for writing. At last, as always, Dear Reader, thank you for reading :)

~~***~~

Tag list: @mycrazyfandom @unavoidabledirewolf @calicoevening72 @mata0-0mata @uzumaki-mj @thegreatestsandwich @parabatai-winchester @munsonmunster @consistentreader578 @jupiterclipse @fangirlmary @clown-princesa @witchxlove @galaxypox @dilfsandtherapy @hjalmarofrivia

Part seven: Through Hell

[choicesholidays]

Choices Holiday’s Festival of Fears Halloween Prompt Event

It's almost October and that means Halloween/Samhain time! In the spirit of Creepy Campfire Tales (Special thanks to the creator of Creepy Campfire Tales, @annabellewynter for her gracious support of this endeavor), Choices Holidays is hosting a creepy prompt event!

Welcome to a month filled with Murderous Mondays, Terrifying Tuesdays, Witchy Wednesdays, Threatening Thursdays, Fiendish Fridays, Sinister Saturdays, and Spine-Chilling Sundays!

Below are a series of quotes, prompts, and memes meant for inspiration, but you are not required to use them. Any scary story will get reblogged and added to the master list. This is open to all choices fandoms.

All creative endeavors are welcomed: Fics, art, edits, mood boards, whatever you’re inspired to create!

The deadline is All Hallows Eve: October 31st, 2023, 11:59 p.m. CST.

Be sure you tag @choicesholidays #choicesholidays, and #festivaloffears for reblogging and inclusion on the master list at the end of the event.

Please feel free to reach out to this blog or @angelasscribbles with any questions, concerns, or suggestions.

Prompts are under the cut.

Quotes for Inspiration:

“The night is dark and full of terrors.” ~Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin

“Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” ~ Tim Burton’s Batman (The line belongs to The Joker)

“Quoth the Raven nevermore!” ~The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” ~Psycho (1960)

“Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” ~A Nightmare on Elm Street

“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense

Writing Prompts:

The following prompts came from The Write Practice.

Creepy Story Writing Prompts

1. It's late at night, and you hear footsteps in the cellar but you're definitely home alone…or so you thought.

2. You've put that doll in the cabinet, in the closet, in the attic, but no matter where you tuck it, it always shows back up on the sofa. On Halloween night, you find it watching you…

3. A bad-tempered businessman is driving home after a long day of work. He thinks he sees his kids trick-or-treating and stops to pick them up but those aren't costumes.

4. It's Halloween night and you and your friends think it would be fun to visit the local town's annual corn maze. But when you're inside it, someone inside the maze doesn't look like an actor in a costume. And shortly after, your friends start to disappear one by one.

5. You don't believe in the rumors that say a certain scary book is cursed—and that anyone who reads it will meet their maker by the end of the week. So naturally, you read it. And then things start going wrong…

Monster/Ghost Story Writing Prompts

6. A young woman goes to her grandmother's house for tea on Halloween night. They have a wonderful time together, sharing stories, joy, and the best times of family. The next day, the woman learns her grandmother has been dead for a week and no one could get ahold of her to tell her.

7. A little boy is lost in the woods, but at least his faithful dog is with him. As they look for the way out, the dog defends his master against terrifying monsters and animals. But the closer they get to escaping the dark forest, the more apparent it is that they'll need to face the person, or thing, releasing these monsters in the first place.

8. A farmer who dreams of being a scientist experiments on this year's pumpkins, hoping to enlarge them. He has a lot of success, until one of his potions is tampered with, and the cute pumpkin in his patch morphs into a monster that eats anyone who stumbles over its vines.

9. Your girlfriend/boyfriend brings over your favorite treat on Halloween, but when you eat it, you transform into a giant, poisonous snake that kills anyone who touches you. What do you do next?

10. You wake up on Halloween night, look outside your window, and see your sister sleepwalking away from the house. You chase after her but can't catch her until she plunges into a dark lake, where there's a mysterious song that starts to pull you deep below the surface.

Not-So-Spooky Story Writing Prompts

Not all people love scary stories. If this is you but you'd like to try to write a scary story—and have a fun time writing it—try tackling a (not-so) scary story prompt that could turn a potentially scary tale into something that is fun (even funny):

11. You hate clowns, which makes it even worse when your husband secretly decides to hire a clown for you son's birthday party—which just happens to be on Halloween.

12. Aliens have just landed on Earth and boy, did they pick a weird day to come. How do they respond to Halloween, supernatural or otherwise? Do they decide this place is just too bizarre and get the heck out, or do they stick around and join in the fun?

13. On Halloween night, lovers get to come back and spend the evening together one more time. One couple from the Roaring Twenties decides to come back from the grave to help their extreme nerd great-grandchild or the kid will never get married.

14. You decide that this year you're going to crash the ten top costume parties in town—and prank each one while you're at it.

15. A mad scientist determined to destroy the world falls hopelessly in love with a not-so-wicked witch. As hard as he tries, he can't impress her.

Meme Prompts:

[drmflm]

—summary: you fell in love with the magic of the night, so much so that when the nightcrawlers came out to play, you were at ease in the moon’s light, waiting, endlessly waiting, for him to find his way back to you.

—pairing: siren!wonwoo x gn human!reader

—word count: 3.5K

—genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, slightly philosophical

—au: siren au, magic au

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: dissatisfaction with life, feelings of self-doubt and insecurity, loss

—note: i was this close to sobbing during this fic,,, my heart ached for the two of them so much! ALSO!! the reader uses they/them pronouns for wonwoo before knowing to use he/him, just cuz sirens kinda have a funky system where gender doesn’t rlly exist!

—masterlist

You were immersed in the gentility of the night. You were a creature that craved the sweet blanket of darkness when the sun was put to rest, the moon’s loving caress. Though some people chastised your love for the darkness, made tales of the dark’s trenches, held horror stories of those that committed the wretched, you wondered what a tragedy it would have been, if you internalized their stances, and instead baked and burned in the monsters that roamed during the day?

For, you wondered, what could be darker than the darkness of your own life?

The night was brimming with wonders unexplored by human eyes, creatures that, just as you, were more comfortable expressing themselves where they were free of prying eyes and the burn of the sunrise.

You saw the blossoms of moonflowers that laid dormant beneath the weeds, watched as they grew under the nourishment of the moon, grew from the blackness of the woods.

Sparkles of magic dotted the sky in a wondrous display of stars, shooting across the sky and lingering in constellations. There swam the whale of the world in the sea of the sky, happily singing and happily dancing as it passed you by. Unlike the sting of the sun, your eyes were content to trace your friends in the sky, to meet constellations that would say their farewells and goodbyes when the night ended.

As your musicians for the evening, crickets chirped to compose your waltz, the flicker of fireflies created a perfect ambience. From your spot on the lake, you were mesmerized by the glamorous array of moonlight on its ripples, you were entranced by the reflection of stars and stunning visuals.

Looking at yourself staring back at you was like looking at a stranger. Seeing a stranger’s perfection was always debilitating to one’s self esteem. To compare oneself to another’s beauty was a different kind of hurt than anger-rimmed words and welts of insults.

No, instead it was a peaceful type of painfulness. It lingered in spaces otherwise left dormant, reignited a sting in every glance of the mirror. It hurt and it hurt, but it did ease. One day.

Under the moonlight’s careful ministrations of healing, you found yourself a resort of peace, a place you could wander to when life got the best of you. Instead of being confined to your bed, swathed in the thoughts you’d rather run away from, among the waters of this darkness-infused paradise, you found yourself slowly recovering from your poisonous heart.

You found yourself in the light of the dark.

So maybe it was this cycle of healing, maybe it was the spirits of the night that were looking out for you, but with every night you spent under the moon, the more you learned that the nightcrawlers were all lonely creatures like you.

“Why do you always come here when the moon shines?” A voice asked from the darkness.

You just shrugged, unbothered. “Perhaps for the same reason as you. The sun just uncovers too many unpleasant memories.”

The voice was silent for a moment, before a gentle rush of cool washed upon your hands, “how would you know how I feel?”

“I don’t,” you confessed, gently flicking the water off your hands. “I just know what I feel.”

You heard the gentle rippling of water, before you saw a figure swim into the rays of moonlight that tapped the water’s surface. There swam a person—no, a siren—whose shimmering blue eyes stared back at you curiously.

“You’re a strange human,” they said, looking at you once more before swimming closer. “You’re a kind person, I can sense it. Yet, despite being kind, why are you filled with so much hate?”

Unwillingly, your heart broke at this intimate observation, another’s perception on your own misdeeds, was something so comforting and touching to your soul. Knowing that someone—even a stranger, was kind enough to observe, and inquire about something as small as your own well-being, made you realize and recognize just how horrible you were treating yourself.

“I don’t know,” you said, looking up at the stars. “I guess after a lifetime of living among monsters, you eventually become one.”

They were silent a moment longer, before speaking once more. “You know, I’ve met a lot of those that wander in the night. I’ve seen the true nature of the monsters that haunt these woods. So I can tell you without a doubt in my heart, that you seem to be the farthest creature from a monster.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the soft, watery sensation of tears trailing down your face, “thank you for saying that.”

“Don’t thank me,” they said quickly, slinking back into the shadows. “I’m not your friend, I’m not somebody you should be thankful to. I am just a background voice in this scene of your life.”

“I’m Y/n,” you said, looking up and scanning the darkness. “Please don’t hide yourself. We’re alone together, at least let us know one another’s names.”

“Wonwoo,” they said after a moment before returning to the light. “I was just as you at one point: young and naive, thinking that the darkness was the only escape...”

Their eyes glazed over before focusing on you again, “I made so many rash decisions in my youth. When life got too tough, I went to the water, I fell into its trenches, and I let it consume me with its love.”

“Is that how you became a siren?” You asked carefully, mesmerized by their blue eyes.

They just laughed, “no, I was lured in. I was lured in by the sirens who stayed here. They made me think I had a home here after I lost my own. But the truth is, is that nobody ever really belongs anywhere.” They turned away, “I was happy as a man, sure, but over the last few millennia, I’ve realized that having the freedom to roam the darkness is what completes my eternal existence in this world.”

“But doesn’t it ever get tiring? Having to be a certain way? Having to live with the fact that all those who come across you will always see you as a monster?” You asked desperately, seeking comfort from the siren before you.

He just smiled solemnly, “but darling, why would I fear what I can’t change? It seems that your thinking is flawed, for when did you ever think I was a monster?”

You blinked, “what do you mean?”

“Humans think that my kind is a cursed being, but you seemed to grow comfortable with me quite quickly,” he said, looking at you once more. “Are you not afraid of me? Do you not think of me as a monster?”

As you stopped for a moment and realized what he said, your eyes were opened. You truly did not think of him as a monster—how could you? His ever constant kindness he had shown you in those few moments alone, the sweet blue of his eyes and the gentle camaraderie you felt with him… How could you ever find it in your heart to think of him as a monster?

There was this stigma about the night, that anybody or anything that lurked within it was a creature of darkness, a dark and looming force that dared to commit the atrocious, the reason for tragedy, an evil unrivalled by nothing, save for the light.

But was the dark really all that dangerous? You found yourself resonating with the nightcrawlers, using the term affectionately as a way to reference your friends of the night. The fireflies and the stars—sure they were light, but they were dim and gentle, not harsh or stinging. They helped lead you to your destination, gentle hands leading you to a place where you could find comfort, where you could be yourself.

The darkness was a home, a place where you could be your true self without feeling confined or restricted due to another’s perception. It was a celebration of individuality, a party that glorified your existence, whilst simultaneously erasing the pressure of your traits, of your identity.

And as you marvelled at Wonwoo’s observations, you were gloriously aware of the fact that you were anonymous in the dark. There was nothing against you here. Wonwoo was a perfect stranger, someone who was blind to your flaws in the day, and aware of your truth in the night.

“I don’t,” you said softly, looking through to the seas of his eyes. “I don’t see you as a monster.”

He smiled, and you saw his sharp teeth without fear, marvelling at their pearlescent white colour that glimmered in the moon’s rays. He swam to you, getting closer and closer before you saw his hands come up from the water.

“We just met, but I wish to ask you a question,” he said softly, looking at you with earnesty. “Do you trust me, Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you said hesitantly. “If I say yes, what will you do?”

“I’d ask you to join me in the seas,” he said, looking up at the moon. “I’d ask if you’d join me for a night, to fill the darkness with your presence, to give me companionship for these few moments of my forever.”

“It’s not a trick right?”

He looked at you warmly, “The only thing that says its a trick is your mortal mind,” he said with a grin. “Do what feels right to you—that is where all magic stems from.”

You smiled, taking his outstretched hand, “then perhaps I should follow it.”

When you fell into the water, it was a liberation you would never forget.

“Y/n, you can open your eyes now,” Wonwoo said with a smile in his voice. “You are okay.”

You opened your eyes tentatively, expecting the water to sting, but fortunately it didn’t. Instead, you were basking in the moonlight, slightly cool and held in Wonwoo’s arms.

“How am I breathing?” You asked, before covering your lips. You let them go when you realized the water didn’t get into your lungs. “How am I talking?”

He laughed, “why, it is your magic, Y/n. Don’t you know that when you follow the truth of your heart, you unlock a trove of magic? You are magic darling, and there is nothing that you are not capable of unlocking.”

He turned you around to look at you, “you are worthy of so much happiness, Y/n. Don’t ever let the monsters of the day ever convince you that you aren’t.”

You felt something thick and slimy curl in your lungs, something that stung with every breath you took, “thank you Wonwoo.”

He smiled but for the first time that night, it felt melancholic, “stop thanking me for telling the truth. You deserve to hear it and believe it. Don’t cut yourself short, thinking that I’m just being nice because—I’m not. I’m being honest.”

You were silent, taking it in, as he scanned your face before nodding, “now, let’s continue on our one night journey to paradise.”

As he brought you throughout his lake, you realized what he meant. Sure, the lake seemed small when you were there, but under the moon’s light, you realized that the waters stretched on and on, revealing an underwater city beneath you, beneath the world.

“What is this place?” You asked while you swam along.

He continued looking forward as he responded, “Sizswqlio, the world of sirens. It’s known as Atlantis in the human world.”

“I thought that was just a myth,” you mumbled, looking around with awe.

“Sort of,” he said while pulling you aside to let a school of fish pass. “There’s only one entrance for humans to enter, known as the Siren’s Mouth, or the lake you visit every night.”

“Really?” You asked incredulously, staring at him in awe. “How strange. Why is it that lake?”

He looked at you with a quizzical expression on his face, “What do you mean, ‘why’? Do you think there is always a reason for everything? The entrance appears wherever it wishes to, and it just so happens you found it when it needed to be found.”

He seemed to be quite…chill, about the whole thing. It was as though nothing had a reason, that things just happened—things that you were always trying to find reasons for, to explain phenomenons that you weren’t familiar with.

In a way, you supposed, his philosophy was invaluable to your life. If one spent all their time thinking up reasons for why things happened, they wouldn’t have any time to live. Thinking about everything meant having no time to live those phenomenons, to find the wonder and magic of the unknown.

So perhaps you found that lake, or rather, it found you. But asking yourself why it chose you would just be an endless array of questions, questions in which you would never have the answer to.

Thus, you swam along beside him, feet kicking wildly as he tugged you along, taking you through coral reefs and pretty, distinctly siren, structures spread throughout the bottom of the sea. Or, were you still in the lake?

“So this is what magic is,” you mused, listening to the underwater beats coming from an underwater tavern. The entire atmosphere was filled with boisterous laughter and endless chatter. “The carefree sensation of always being in wonder, of seeing the world as a beautiful mystery and enjoying its pleasures to the fullest.”

“Indeed,” he said with a wink, before pulling you into one of the shops. “Just add a little glamour and flair to it, and you have that concept humans seem to adulate—“ he offered you a cheeky grin. “Perfection.”

Among the shelves, there were various accessories, like clamshell hair clips and pearlescent jewelry. Wonwoo guided you to a seat, and held up his hands, “Are you ready for a little magic?”

You winked at that.

The underwater tavern was cool, but do you know what was even better?

Tailflipping.

Prior to witnessing a round, you had no idea what that even was when Wonwoo first mentioned it. But after you were seated in a clamshell chair, ivory tail shimmering in the jellyfish lights, Wonwoo left you to head up to the centre of the stage to enthusiastic cheers.

It seemed that a common activity in the underwater world was a type of wresting match through the use of tails. Every siren’s tail was different, denoting their rank in magical energy, as well as their wisdom. The prettier the tale, the more powerful the siren.

Back in the olden days, according to siren legend, sirens used to eat mortal hearts to extend their tales—as well as their wisdom—for the sake of being the most powerful siren. But nowadays, sirens simply cared about tail length on the basis of one of two things: beauty and agility.

You were sure Wonwoo qualified for both, but in this case, it was for the latter option.

His tail was ebony black and coiled around itself like a snake. From the point where his scales melded to his torso, all the way down, smooth scales trailed all the way down before melding into a sharp, dragon-like tip.

He reminded you of a dragon, with the smoothness of a snake, the allure of a siren, and ferocity, so much ferocity.

His opponent seemed weak beside him, and you were right. As Wonwoo’s tail stretched outwards, a menacing, inky thing, the younger siren’s coral-hued tale was weak against its hold, easily trapped in endless coils.

To be honest, it wasn’t that interesting of a fight. By the time one blinked, Wonwoo’s coils had enclosed around the other entirely, and in one smooth flick of his tail, the other was spun completely around.

At the cheers of the crowd, it seemed to be a regular occurrence, which greatly surprised you. He seemed to be the quieter, brooding type, and yet, perhaps eternity had morphed a part of him into a more carefree, rambunctious person—someone unrestricted in norms and etiquette and rather, fun and young at heart.

When he came back to you after his performance, you said your praise, to which he shrugged you off modestly, and you continued on your journey throughout Sizswqlio, enjoying its amenities.

After a while time seemed to pass you by, and when you remembered you had to go back, something dark and looming reared within you. You didn’t want to leave, not when you had everything perfect right where you were, not when your heart pleaded for you to stay here, where you were happiest.

Wonwoo sensed this ambivalence from you, but ever the gentlesiren, he did not ask, opting instead to guide you back to the entrance that would take you back home.

“The sun is going to rise soon,” he said quietly. “It’s best you head back now, otherwise you will be stuck here another day.”

“What if I want to be?” You asked brazenly, withering under his sad gaze.

He shook his head, “No darling, you can’t. Any more than a night, and you will be chained to this lake. You must go, and never come back. This place is a paradise for the lost, for the broken. It’s a sea of broken hearts. So when you find your way, and your heart has healed, it is best that you find substance back where you belong: on the shore.”

You stopped, looking at him deeply, feeling the intense urge to cry, “What if I don’t belong there? What if I belong here instead? With you?”

He just kept shaking his head, “You don’t. You need to go back to the real world, Y/n. This is not the place you belong in. I will not allow you to chain yourself here.”

He hesitated, before continuing, “Y/n, there’s a reason why sirens are said to be cursed. It’s not the fact that we lure humans down, it’s that humans never want to go. They find their way to our world, and when they catch a taste of its wonders, their greedy hearts can never let it go. So please, I beg you, don’t be another one.” He squeezed your hands tighter, “Because you deserve so much more than this.”

You understood it then. He was trying to protect you from yourself, from that little voice inside your head that was urging you to stay. You didn’t belong down there, you weren’t meant for that world. So why was it so hard to let go? To let him go?

“This was the best night of my life,” you said, tracing the gentle planes of his face. “I wish it would never end.”

He nodded back, “I wish that too, more than you could ever know.”

You nodded, and let him bring you to the edge of the water, where the moon’s rays were dimmed and barely there.

“As a guardian of Sizswqlio’s waters, I hereby declare you free of your tail, to be free of this lake, and to carry on in all of your dreams,” he declared, before you felt the swift return of your legs, before he was pushing you upwards, where you floated away.

Once your fingers drifted apart in one final farewell, you felt yourself break the surface, just as he coiled back down, lost to the darkness.

As you breathed in air once more, the soft light of dawn caressing your cheeks, you wept at the loss of his hand in yours, devastated, as the siren of your heart slowly drifted away from your memory, lingering at the edges and never returning.

But deep inside, you hoped you remembered. You hoped you remembered that when things got tough, you would always remember the magic, joyful underwater blues and regal, inky coils.

And when the day woke, you felt tired, so incredibly tired. You longed for nightfall, you longed to swim in the water once more, to find something lost in the sea of your brain.

You waited at the pond every night and every day, waiting for something—someone, to find their way back to you.

One night, something in the universe came into fruition. In the cool night’s breeze, you heard the gentle rippling of water, before a figure swam into the rays of moonlight that tapped the water’s surface. There swam a person—no, a siren—whose shimmering blue eyes stared back at you curiously.

“Why do you always come here when the moon shines?”

©️ 2022 svt1117 all rights reserved.

[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Moon Dance - Demetri V. x f! reader

Wrote another little fic for our Darling Demetri! This time it is in first person pov. Hope you will enjoy!

I could not understand my coven mate’s regrets about the sun, especially now as I was dancing under the moonlight surrounded by dark roses, moonflowers and tuberoses. I had taken a great care of my garden, making sure to grow flowers that would bloom by day and by night. Bright pale flowers blooming under the moonlight, dark flowers in burgundy, reds and black blooming under the sun. Candlelit lanterns hanging in trees in the night, shiny crystals in the light. My little cottage safely tucked away in deep woods, far from humans, not far from my coven mates’ one. If humans were to stumble upon me, especially in moments like tonight, they would mistake me for some kind of witch, or an ethereal being not belonging to this world. And they would be right! After all, aren’t vampires creatures of the night?

The sky was free of clouds tonight, and the stars were shining bright, as the moon was high in the sky. I had finished to tend my garden for the next few days, it was so peaceful. I decided to dance around, my feet light as I was twirling between my flowers, the skirt of my dress flowing around me. Oh, such a lovely night it was! My flowers were so bright under the pale rays of moonlight, as I was humming an old tune. But this night, the moon had decided to gift me something lovelier than my flowers.

Suddenly I felt a presence, and stopping my dance, I turned in the direction of the intruder.

“Who’s there?” I called out into the night. That’s when I saw him step away from the darkness of the woods. Eros himself couldn’t have been more beautiful than the vampire I had in front of me.

Dark curls were framing a lovely face with eyes of rubies, he was really handsome even by vampiric standards.

When our eyes met, I felt as id he had the answer to every question my soul could ask. In one look he had stolen my heart and I never wanted him to give it back.

The lovely gift from the moon was named Demetri, and when I resumed dancing, I was not alone anymore. We didn’t need any music, our unbeating hearts were singing a melody that only us could hear, and it was more than enough.

We danced most of the night, discovering each other. With our two souls that already knew each other, it was relatively easy to know what to say, how to enjoy the other’s embrace.

But alas came the moment to say goodbye. My lovely Demetri had a very important standing in his coven, and couldn’t afford to stay. We left each other with an aching heart, a kiss and a moonflower tucked in his hair to seal a promise of a future. A future full of love.

[mykingdomforasong]

Ooh, how about Historical + Huddling for Warmth with DinLuke for the mashup?

((I have a wip where Din is basically Shakespeare and Luke is his patron (Earl of Southampton), so I've set it in that universe -- England circa 1593 (the plague summer). This is a very self-indulgent AU. This doesn't fit the prompt that well, but it's the historical period I know the most about.))

Rating - M (could maybe be T)

~

Din sat at Luke's writing desk, his fingers of his left hand scratching at the fine, polished wood, as his right hand clutched a quill that scratched away at the parchment. Candles and moonlight lit the room. A rare breeze blew through the room, cooling the hot summer air with all the force of a child blowing the steam off a hot stew.

The right word was evading him. He'd tried half a dozen or so, but none of them fit the meter or set up the right rhyme. His foul paper was covered in more scratched out words than final ones. He felt guilty for abusing his master's fine paper in such a manner, but there was no other way.

He stopped scratching, and instead turned into tapping.

Impediments, he wrote. tap TAP tap TAP. Yes, that would do.

"Master poet," Luke called to him from his spot on the bed. In his usual fashion, he hadn't dressed after making love, choosing to just wrap himself up in his sheets and drift to sleep. He pushed himself up now, the candle light dancing off the blonde hairs of his chest. "As your patron, I must insist you stop writing and return to bed."

Din had left him in a flurry of sheet and pillows when he felt the muse call to him. His coy mistress had abandoned him though by the time he reached ink and paper. With his newly discovered word impediments he'd managed to squeak out a single line.

"I felt inspired, my lord," Din told him.

"You can be inspired over here," Luke said. He reached out his left hand, trying to pull Din back in his direction as if through the air. "It's such a cold night. I'd appreciate some words to warm my bed."

Din laughed. He'd pulled on a linen undershirt when he'd gotten out of bed and nothing else. Even that was already sticking to his chest with sweat. The August heat and the light of the candles kept the room hellish, and their nightly activities only made it worse.

"I think I should keep my distance if you feel chilled in this weather," Din said, but he dared not speak any more in jest for fear of welcoming Death into the home.

Luke flopped back onto the mattress with a dramatic flare to rival Din's own fellow players.

"I'm not chilly," he admitted to his lie, "just burdened with desire."

"Then you should feel hot," Din corrected. "I don't know that I would help alleviate that feeling."

"You, master poet, are the only one who can," Luke said, propping himself up just a little to see if Din would move towards him.

Din abandoned his sonnet, stood up from the desk, and stripped off his linens.

Luke's bed was feather-stuffed, and his bedding was cotton and silk. The air around him seemed always so impossibly perfumed; all luxuries Din imagined belonging to Cleopatra and Helen of Troy. And yet, here they were now, under his knees.

"You, my lord, are a lusty devil," Din said, retaking his position over his patron. Luke's sweet mouth met his. Din felt his hand in his hair, and the stump of his right wrist where Luke had lost his hand trace down his side.

"And thou, master poet, are incredibly tedious." Luke's hand was between them now, moving in lawless ways.

"I'll write you a sonnet in so high a style, Luke, that no man living shall come over it, for in most beautiful truth you deserve it," Din promised. Luke always flushed with passion when Din used his Christian name.

"Any words that might keep you from me tonight are foul," Luke insisted.

"No," Din protested, kissing his cheek, then neck, then chest. "Fair, only fair words."

"Fair is foul," Luke said. Din couldn't quite make sense of that one.

"Then stop my mouth," Din said.

Luke did as he was bid, and captured his mouth again. Luke wrapped his legs around Din, pressing Din even closer as if he wanted every inch of Din to be flush against him. Din always managed to forget just how strong Luke's legs had become from a lifetime of riding. He found himself utterly at the mercy of his patron.

[vic394]

Who wants to live forever --- Steddie

It’s already dark outside when Steve makes his way back to his house after dropping Robin home. Just another day at Family Video.

The rain taps lightly on the windshield and the radio cracks away tune after tune that Steve is not paying attention to. It hasn’t been a bad day, but then again lately it’s been difficult for Steve to remember what a good day feels like.

He makes his way through the ghost town that is Hawkins, when the radio host says something that catches his attention, presenting the newest hit from Queen.

Steve’s heart skips a bit when the first notes start playing.

There's no time for us

There's no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff” Eddie smirks as his van’s radio blasts Bohemian Rhapsody on full volume.

It took a whole lot of discussions and a long process of trial and error, a bunch of “this is way too loud” and “but this is way too lame” “stop mocking me, Eds” “oh, Harrington, I could never” before they settled on common ground between heavy metal and pop and compromised on what music to listen to when they were together.

Halfway happy, as El would say. And Queen did the job perfectly. And so that’s what they listen to over their long drives, that’s what they dance to in Steve’s kitchen at 3am, when they should be asleep but they’re too afraid to miss out on a single second with each other.

That’s what they sing along to until their voices give out, one mixtape after the other.

Steve could take that ‘halfway’ out of the picture entirely. He’s as happy as he could be.

He takes a look at Eddie’s face, perfectly framed by long, curly hair, the moonlight hitting him in a way that makes him look like he’s some ethereal being, out of this world. He’s an angel in devil’s clothing. An angel Steve so desperately wants to kiss.

So he does just that, leaning over until their lips touch and Eddie sighs in abandonment, his hand clutching the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. They kiss until their lungs are burning, bodies aching with heat and desire and so much love, until Steve has to pull away for air, forcing himself to break contact before he jumps that flushed mess that is Eddie, right then and there.

“That is the stuff.” He echoes as he winks and takes a puff of the joint Eddie offers him.

Nights like this are so beautiful, only the two of them, Eddie’s van parked in front of Lover’s Lake, a couple bottles of beer and their fingers linked over the stick shift.

And if it depended on Steve, he would never let go.

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever

Steve’s iron grip on the steering wheel makes his knuckles go white.

He hasn’t been listening to Queen in a while. Not since…

A fox runs across the road and Steve almost runs it over, hitting the brakes at the very last minute with all the force he has. The fox stops dead in its tracks, takes a long, terrified look at the car, then quickly scoots back into the woods.

Steve takes a few deep breaths and slowly parks the car at the side of the empty road. He turns the headlight off, the rhythm of the rain on the roof keeping him company alongside the music.

And all he can do is remember.

There's no chance for us

It's all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Steve tries to pay attention to the movie, he really does, but it’s so difficult with the feeling of Eddie wrapped around him as he is. It drives him insane.

He cuddles into Eddie more, getting as close as he can.

Under the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne, there’s something that is so uniquely Eddie. Something that tells him, after all the pain and the searching, he’s finally home. Steve pushes his face deeper into Eddie’s chest, letting the warmth embrace him.

Eddie kisses his forehead, his hand mindlessly caressing Steve’s back, sometimes moving down to Steve’s arms, and then finally sliding underneath Steve’s shirt, coming to rest on his hip.

It’s the nights like this that they both live for, only them and cheap takeout and talks about anything and everything, until the first lights of dawn break in through the curtains in Eddie’s trailer. The tv in front of them keeps them company, playing whatever flick Steve had rented out from Family Video.

Eddie’s hand spreads a burning sensation through Steve’s whole body, convincing him that he might just burst into flames right then and there if he’s not careful. Part of him hopes Eddie’s hand would wonder further down still, but he’s happy with the beauty that is just feeling each other’s presence.

It doesn’t take long, however, for Steve to be straddling Eddie’s lap as he pulls him in for a kiss that is deep, almost desperate in its desire.

All that happens next is hot and it’s sweet and it’s them merging into one as they whisper nonsense in the dark, all the I love yous and You’re so perfect and every other thing in between that they wouldn’t be able to put into words because God, no word is tender enough and no phrase can convey enough love, enough adoration.

By the time they separate again, panting and sweaty and spent, the end credits of the movie are rolling and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He’s rented Top Gun four times by now, and he still doesn’t know how it ends.

He doesn’t particularly care to find out, either.

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever

Steve is not sure if it’s rain or tears that blurry his vision as he feels a cold shiver run down his spine. He doesn’t know if it’s to defend himself from the cold of the September night or the cold in his own heart, when he grabs his jacket from the passenger seat and wears it over his jumper.

It's worn, soft leather, one size too big for him, and Steve wraps himself in it and takes a deep breath that almost breaks him.

It doesn’t smell like Eddie anymore.

Who dares to love forever

They’re walking out of the record store and making their way to Steve’s car when it happens. Steve is holding the bag with the tapes: Iron Maiden, Whitney Huston and, of course, Queen.

Coming from the opposite way there’s this couple. It’s people he doesn’t know, he can’t hear what they’re talking about, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the way they’re holding hands, out in the open and unafraid, that makes Steve’s heart clench. It’s envy, he knows it, the burning desire of doing the same and knowing that he can’t, that slowly gnaws away at him.

He can’t help the heavy sigh that escapes his lips. Of course, Eddie notices, as attentive as ever to Steve’s every movement, every expression of joy, anger or sadness.

“Come on now, you can buy that new ABBA album next time” he says, casually patting Steve on the back and gently squeezing his shoulder for just one more second to make him understand that he gets it, that he feels the same. A pat on the back, as friends would do, that’s the best they can manage in public. As if they’ve never shared more than that. As if they’ve never been holding hands themselves, or hugged each other until they suffocated, touched each other everywhere so many times that Steve could draw Eddie’s body while blindfolded. So many times, that Eddie could list every single constellation he can draw when connecting Steve’s moles together.

It's not fair.

All Steve has ever wanted is marriage, a family, and it kills him to know he can’t possibly have that, that the purest form of love he’s ever experienced must remain a secret for the world. That the person he wants to call his can only be such in the dark.

The drive to the trailer park is silent aside from Freddie Mercury giving his all on the radio, Somebody to Love playing at a low volume while Steve and Eddie are both lost in their own thoughts. As always, Steve’s hand finds its place on Eddie’s thigh whenever he’s not switching gears. A small reminder that here, where no one can see them, they can still be themselves.

It's not long before Steve pulls up in front of Eddie’s trailer, ready for goodbye, his heart still heavy.

Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, keeps staring in front of himself at nothing in particular.

“Eds? Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice has Eddie jerk back to reality with a small wince that would make Steve smile if he wasn’t so concerned.

“I’m okay” Eddie replies, grinning at him.

“Actually, more than okay.”

What he does next hits Steve like a train. He watches silently as the world stills, as Eddie reaches out and removes the ring he wears on his right hand.

It’s Steve’s favorite, simple compared to the other ones Eddie likes to wear, no skulls or crosses but a plain, silver band with a black stone encased on top of it.

Steve is so distracted by the action that he almost tunes out Eddie’s next words, about wanting the same thing, a loving family, and how he wants to build it together, the two of them fighting side by side for things to get better. Because things will get better for them, Eddie can feel it, and he wants to be there to enjoy every bit of it.

Eddie’s face becomes serious as he fully turns to Steve with an expression that suggests a thousand thoughts running behind it.

“Look, I know it’s not much, it’s not fancy or anything” he starts, fumbling with the ring, emotion making him trip over his words.

“But it’s a promise, Harrington. I need you to know… I’m in it for the long run.”

It’s all Steve can do to not have a stroke on the spot, really. His eyes keep going back and forth between the ring and Eddie’s hopeful gaze.

And it pans out so neatly, a future with the man he loves more than anything. A kinder time, when they’ll both be wearing matching gold bands on their fingers, renewing this same promise in front of God and their loved ones, and then a lifetime of keeping it faithfully, until they become old and crinkled but still hopelessly in love with one another, day after day.

A solitary tear rolls down Steve’s cheek as he lets Eddie slide the ring on his finger. It fits like it’s been made to be there.

“I love you so much, Munson.” He brings himself to say before his lips collide with Eddie’s. He can taste the salt of Eddie’s own tears, so full of joy and excitement.

Yes, it will take time, and it will take effort, but Eddie is right: they’re here for the long run.

Oh, when love must die

Steve wears Eddie’s ring underneath his shirt, on a chain around his neck. It burns a hole right next to his heart with the scorching heat of a broken promise.

Robin used to tease him for it, back in the day, and Steve would blush and playfully brush her off without being able to hide his own smile at her jokes. And then he’d simply strike back, mocking the way she’d blabber whenever Vickie came into the store.

But that was before Vecna.

Now, all that Robin does when she sees Steve fidget with the ring is send him a nostalgic look, unable to fully comfort him. He still spends time with her, keeps joking around with her, picks her up for work and takes her back home as he’s always done. But he knows it’s not the same. He’s not the same.

Steve knows that she misses him, that warmer, careless, kinder version of himself. He wishes he could go back to how their friendship was, open himself to her, but he can’t find it in him to do it.

He wonders if he ever will.

Steve clutches Eddie’s ring in his hands, tears shamelessly rolling down his cheeks. The electric guitar lulls him as the song progresses, tearing him apart piece by piece. It’s soft, a similar kind of melody that Eddie would play on his own guitar on a lazy afternoon.

For Steve and Steve only.

But touch my tears with your lips

Touch my world with your fingertips

Steve’s jolts awake and he can’t make out the outline of his own bedroom, or the sound of the wind shaking the trees outside. The only thing he can see is the metal walls of his cell, the only sounds are coming from Russian guards and his own screams. And at first, he jerks away when he feels a pair of hands clutching his wrists, he doesn’t recognize the voice calling to him, “Steve it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, it was just a bad dream, Steve you need to breathe-”.

It's only after a few seconds that he registers it’s not the Russians, it’s not a cell, that he’s home and he’s not in danger and it’s Eddie trying to bring him back to reality.

And as quickly as that happens, he deflates, letting Eddie finally envelope him in a bear hug.

Eddie keeps caressing his hair and kissing the top of his head, whispering gentle words to him, his steady heartbeat pounding into Steve’s ears louder than words, to a melody that Steve loves more than any song ever written. Neither of them pulls away until he’s fully calmed down.

As far as Eddie knows, Steve was closely involved in the Starcourt fire. And that is the end of it. There’s a silent agreement between them: Steve doesn’t talk about it and Eddie doesn’t ask. Steve feels guilty for not sharing this darker part of himself with Eddie, the part that fought Demogorgons and the Mind Flayer and everything in between, but then again how could he explain the bat he keeps hidden under a blanket in the trunk of his car, the bruises and the nightmares that won’t leave him alone. Maybe it’s better this way, to let Eddie believe the scariest things he’s ever seen are the monsters in horror movies. To shield him from all this crap Steve had to deal with and the destruction it left in its wake.

And there Eddie is, comforting him with the reminder that before bursting into flames, at least the Starcourt gave them the time to meet.

Steve remembers it as if it happened yesterday, Eddie walking into Scoops-Ahoy for the first time, making him feel like the ground had given way under his feet. A vision in dark clothes and, Steve knows how cliché that sounded, a smile that lit up the whole room. And Steve himself, trying with all his might to look cool in that ridiculous sailor outfit, only to end up stuttering and blushing like a thirteen-year-old on his first crush, much to Robin’s amusement. It really was a miracle to see Eddie come back the day after, and every single day after that, ordering the same ice cream without fail and taking his time to chat about anything until the next customers would call out for Steve’s attention with impatient huffs.

It felt like an even bigger miracle when Eddie had actually called him after Steve hurriedly scribbled his number on a napkin, before serving him the usual chocolate and hazelnut ice cream. And that was how they started talking outside Scoops-Ahoy, away from the mall, going on for hours and becoming the terror of their families’ phone bills, until Eddie worked up the courage to tell Steve that hey, maybe we could hang out sometimes.

And if “hanging out” meant a steamy make out session in the back of Eddie’s van, well, that was nobody’s business.

The memory makes Steve giddy, filling him to the brim with happiness, the nightmares long forgotten; all that matters is Eddie’s loving arms around him.

And there’s nothing left for them to do but go back to sleep, Steve sprawled on top of Eddie, lazy kisses exchanged in between goodnights.

Steve sighs, his head resting on Eddie’s chest.

He’s finally safe.

And we can have forever

And we can love forever

Forever is our today

So, yeah… Eddie had eventually found out about Steve’s “side hustle” as a part-time Hawkins hero. And he’d found that out in the worst possible way; Steve will forever kick himself at the memory of Eddie’s eyes, full of horror after Chrissy’s death, completely unprepared and scared as he had to go into hiding to escape the mob that was after him.

The only thing Steve had ever wanted was for Eddie to be safe, and instead he had only put him in danger by keeping the truth from him.

After the rocky start, Eddie had taken the whole Upside Down situation pretty well, given the circumstances. He did spend a full afternoon being extremely pissed at Steve for never telling him anything, but that anger had dissipated when Dustin had managed to calm him down enough to make him understand that he probably would have done the same, had their roles been reversed: try to protect Steve.

Plus, Steve’s signature puppy eyes had the power to make Eddie forgive him just about anything. No reason for interdimensional killer monsters to be an exception.

And it’s against these monsters that they set out to fight, Steve going after Vecna while Eddie stays behind to provide a distraction.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve barely has the time to turn around as Eddie pulls him into a kiss that sets him on fire.

Now, pressed against Eddie, he knows that he’s going to make it. He’s going to come back for more.

Eddie finally lets him go and gazes into Steve’s eyes.

“Make him pay.”

-

The world around them is silent when they make their way back to Eddie’s trailer, Robin and Nancy walking alongside Steve in the darkness of the Upside Down, still careful not to step on the vines and wary of any danger that might pop out from the shadows.

They might not have won the war, but they won the battle all right. Steve carries himself forward, his body dirty and sore from the fight, making his way towards Eddie and Dustin and towards a well-deserved shower.

They’re still far when he sees the slouched frame of Dustin, surrounded by dead demobats. A shiver runs down his neck carrying the sensation that something is terribly wrong.

And that’s when he sees Eddie, lying on the concrete.

He forces his muscles to make one last effort as he breaks into a run, leaving the girls behind.

Eddie is obviously hurt, and there’s no other thought in Steve’s mind except that he has to be with him, carry him away from all this, nurse him back to health.

Dustin lifts his head and on his face there’s enough grief to almost stop Steve dead in his tracks.

No.

He finally reaches them and there’s Eddie, impossibly still, eyes fixed on the dark sky above them. Steve frantically kneels next to him and refuses to fully take in the lack of expression on Eddie’s face, covered in blood. He starts to shake him to wake up, wake up Eddie, it’s over, we won, we have to go back, please Eds, please, you have to get up, Eddie please, and it’s desperate words that merge into sobs when despite Steve’s best efforts Eddie doesn’t move, when his eyes remain empty and he feels cold to the touch, so cold, and Steve can’t stop shaking him, because he can’t leave him here-

It takes the brute force of Dustin, Robin and Nancy combined to tear Steve away from Eddie’s body, their words muffled by Steve’s screams as he blindly claws at them to break free. To touch Eddie again.

It flashes in front of him with a clarity that takes him aback, all the kisses and the touches and the words that they’ve ever exchanged, and that’s when it hits Steve. His world crumbles as if it’s nothing, all the fight leaving him for good. It takes another minute for the guys to finally let him go, still on edge, afraid of what he might do next.

Steve approaches Eddie again, slowly this time, as if he might break him. He takes in every single one of Eddie’s injuries, every last drop of dried blood, every wound he can’t mend.

He delicately takes Eddie's cold hand in his, desperate to feel it return the hold and realizing it’s not going to happen. Steve feels his own body freezing over as he takes one last look at Eddie’s eyes, those chocolate brown eyes that could look at him with an intensity that would make his knees go weak. He closes them gently, caressing Eddie’s face, not even noticing the blood that stains his hand in the process. He takes off Eddie’s bandana and runs his fingers through his soft hair.

Finally, vision blurry with tears and body stiffened by a pain that lacerates his very soul, Steve leaves one last, delicate kiss on Eddie’s still lips. His voice is a broken whisper when he speaks his last I love you.

This time, when the guys help him up, it’s only because there’s no energy left in Steve to make it on his own.

He doesn’t look at any of them when he walks away, Eddie’s bandana clutched in his fist. He doesn’t look back at the only person he’d want to comfort him. Because he knows that if he does, he’d never leave.

Eventually, Steve makes his way back from the Upside Down.

His heart doesn’t.

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever

Steve cries until there’s no tears left in him, until it’s only his body shuddering with dry sobs. If only he could turn back time, if only Eddie could be here one last time to hold him. There’s nothing Steve wouldn’t give to have him back.

He still visits Wayne every week. Having to explain everything to him had been one of the hardest thing Steve has ever done, but Wayne deserved to know the truth; that Eddie was never a criminal, that he died a hero, that he was one of the most loving people who ever graced the earth and that he was deeply loved in return, until the very end. They’re mostly silent, Wayne and him, keeping each other company while the coffees between them get cold.

But they talk too, sometimes, about their jobs and what goes on in their lives. It’s been difficult to get used to each other without Eddie carrying every conversation as he used to, but when Steve decides to try and apply for community college again, try and make something of himself, Wayne is the first person to know and he shows nothing but support.

On the better days, they talk about Eddie. They hold each other while they cry.

It's hard and it’s painful, but Steve would go out of his way to be there anytime Wayne needs him.

Forever is our today

Steve takes a series of deep breaths as he flips opens the car visor, revealing a polaroid of him and Eddie taken a hundred years ago, back when the world was still bright and Steve’s smiles were sincere, back when everything still had a meaning.

Eddie is making a funny face, his tongue sticking out. Steve is looking at him as he holds the camera, the image capturing him mid-laughter. At the bottom, there’s Eddie’s messy writing. I love you, big boy.

Steve carefully traces the black sharpie with his fingertips, and he seems to hear Eddie’s voice saying it again.

It brings him to a time when he was completely and undeniably happy.

A time that is no more.

With one final sigh, he puts the polaroid back into place. Leaving it, for the moment, in the past where it belongs.

Hands still somewhat shaky, Steve composes himself enough to get the car back into motion and drive away into the evening, the last notes of the song fading away on the radio.

Eddie would have loved to hear it.

Who waits forever anyway?

---------

A/N: Okay so this was a very short blurb that got wildly out of hand. I don't regret it at all, I loved writing it even if it made me cry a lot. Who Wants to Live Forever is one of my favorite songs from Queen and it breaks my heart in the most beautiful way possible. Also guess when it first came out. '86, baby.

Also I needed Steve and Eddie to be together from at least season 3 because the thought of S3! Steve meeting Eddie at Scoops Ahoy gets me out of bed in the morning.

Thanks to @supernoisygoblin because my bae here kept supporting me even tho I was bringing the big sads to the table and we both knew it. But I hope you enjoyed the fluff!

[floof-writes]

I don’t know a lot about Linked Universe, but I love your writing. May I request something with Four’s colors interacting? Sorry if that’s too vague

I know you probably meant with the colors split, but I absolutely love writing Four's internal monologue with the colors so here's a bunch of the colors interacting in Four's head! Thanks so much for the ask (and the compliment). Have a great day!

Title: Never Alone, Always Cold

Words: 1278

Four days isn’t that long, Four tried to convince himself, glaring at the setting sun from the mouth of the icy cave, squinting against the way the snow reflected it back. 

That’s only one for each of us! Red agreed, drawn out by the silence. 

We shouldn’t have waited, Vio said, and no one mentioned the bitter self-hatred in their voice. We should have started down on day one, while we still had rations. 

We were disoriented, injured, and it’s protocol to stay put, Green reminded, ever-steady. The others will find us. 

Before or after we freeze to death, Blue bit out, but at least he was talking. At least he wasn’t silent with memories and fear the way he’d been the first few nights on this frigid mountain. 

Red shrank back from the harshness and Four shivered, pulling his knees closer. Their ankle throbbed, fractured at least from the fall that had gotten them into this damn ravine in the first place. In the back of the cave the drip of melting ice was petering out as the mountain cooled for the night, and maybe Four could admit that he was going a little crazy with worry. 

This mountain was a death trap full of ice and random drop-offs, monsters around every corner, and the temperatures got into the negatives at night. Not everyone was used to navigating this type of climate on their journeys, if Wind or Hyrule had been caught alone…

The four people in their mind were only an illusion of company- Four was never alone but he was very cold, and he wanted nothing more than to split so Blue couldn’t disappear again and the colors didn’t have to swirl in a shared psyche until the lonely silence stretched long enough to give them an individual voice. But more bodies meant more calories, and Four didn’t have any of those to spare. 

They’d gotten lax with keeping their own rations after spending so long with Wild, and the only reason they’d made it this far was because they’d stumbled into an abandoned camp with some long frozen provisions. He’d dragged the remains of the fire pit against the cliff to better shelter it from the wind and burned scraps of wood and cloth, but he was long out of that. 

Regardless, Vio was right. They’d missed their window to get off the mountain on their own, their only hope now was to stay sheltered and hope that the others found them before it was too late. 

Four stood and hobbled deeper into the cave, burrowing into his bedding and holding his fire rod close as the night drew on. 

***

Four woke to a world awash in red. It was nighttime still and outside the mouth of the cave instead of silver-blue the moonlight was the color of blood. At first he wasn’t sure why he woke, but then he realized that instead of the proper, lifeless silence a place below freezing deserved, there was shifting, snorting, roaring- sounds Four knew in an instant belonged to monsters. 

He froze, not daring to breathe. Slowly, he crept out of his bedroll and crawled to the mouth of the cave, keeping low and sticking to the shadows. 

The abandoned monster camp was no longer abandoned. Wild’s moblins and bokoblins danced in the garish moonlight. There were two moblins and at least six bokos, not to mention the ice keese that were roosting under the cliff. Four blinked and quickly took a measured breath before he passed out from lack of air. A speck of Malice-stained ash brushed his cheek and he flinched back into the cave, trying to make his heaving breaths come quietly. 

Okay, so there were monsters here now. Monsters that outnumbered him eight to one. 

Two-to-one, Red corrected, ever a team player even though right now there was just one Four.

Two-to-one, Vio agreed grimly, and there was a flash of surprise from Green and Blue before they realized what they were saying. 

Only as a last resort, Green said. They haven’t noticed us yet.

And how long do you think that’s gonna last? Blue asked. It was in moments like these that the others really realized how much Blue’s pessimism was born of fear, because that sentence was one harsh note away from terrified. 

Hopefully long enough for us to climb out of here, Vio said. 

Four slid off his gloves and grabbed his ring pouch, wincing at every jingle as he used the crimson moonlight to search for the right one. He finally slid it on, the cold metal biting at his finger. Roc’s Cape was already around his shoulders to fight off the cold, so he stuffed the rest of his belongings away. 

He stood shakily, weak from cold and hunger, and peeked out again. The monsters were still up, the moon’s artificial glow apparently giving them strength. Four grabbed the Cane of Pacci and took aim at one of the crates. 

Counting down may have been a little cliche, but what was Four if not classic? The moment Blue reluctantly said one, Four flipped the crate and stuffed the cane away, jumping for purchase on the cliffside. 

He dug his bare fingers into the ice and let the magic of his Grip Ring flow through his joints, helping him hold onto the smallest protrusions. His hurt ankle throbbed but he pressed on, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

Behind and beneath him, the monsters were still puzzling over the flipped box, all Four had to do was get above eye level and they probably wouldn’t notice him. They were safe, they were fine, Blue shut up about the cold we get it-

Four heaved himself another half-body length higher and pressed himself against the cliffs, hearing the monsters settle themselves, turning back around, turning-

And settling, as the moon started to return to its normal color, not one set of eyes turning to Four, huddled halfway up the cliffside and praying to the shadows. Four took a steadying breath and began to move again to avoid finger cramps, their clothes scraping against the ice. 

He saw it a second before it doomed him: the Cane of Pacci slipping out of his belt. He had only enough time to hold his breath before it fell, the glass sphere echoing when it hit the icy ground. 

There was a moment of silence, and then a moblin roared. 

Four jerked, half his limbs trying to go down and the other half trying to continue up. 

Fucking leave it! Blue shouted.

Right! Red said by way of apology, halfway to hysterical. 

But- Vio resisted, even as the body scrambled up another couple handholds.

Vio, Green started, reaching for another hold, and that hold was all they had left when Blue dropped the other, swinging them out of the way of an arrow that embedded itself into the cliffside with a burst of flame that warmed Four’s stinging cheeks and numb fingers. 

Cane forgotten, Vio surged to grab the next hold, securing them back on the cliffside. 

Keep it together, guys, Green said, realizing how internally split they were becoming. 

Helpful, Blue spat as their fingers slipped, the ice wet and slick from the fire arrow. 

The next arrow snagged their cape, and the resulting burst of flame sent them tumbling towards the ground. 

The colors landed in the snow with a thump, Roc’s Cape slowing their fall just enough to keep them from getting hurt. 

Green rolled over, coughing the breath back into their lungs. Last resort. 

The colors reached for their sword and the clearing lit up with a flash of light. 

[cursedweedman]

"goodnight sweet prince" I am begging on my knees

there's a witch in the woods, and she's closing in, John gets there in the nick of time.

Some witches were human, this is most peoples understanding of them, but some were older than people. Learned to mimic us so exact. She was dirty, in the distance, covered in dry dirt and browned leaves, hips swayed as she moved.

Panthers muscles pulsed against sleek skin, flash of teeth.

Closer, closer still, hips moving, was she walking, or was she dancing, in the cool night, under the moon. Paw bats the animal, it was all over so quickly, finished before it was started, caught between it's jaws.

The closeness didn't provide any further details, vague impression of humanity, arms reached out to her sides, thick wet hair parted, beyond the mud, beyond the mire, she was beautiful. And she was closing in. Muscles constricting, horrible teeth, powerful jaw, hypnotic hips. Saliva down your cheek, heat of her heavy breath.

Trembling, in the ground, rhythmic gallop, pale horse, dirt and salt waved around -- he was yelling, the way you would at a bear, the horse reared, and among the chaos, among the noise, in the light of his flaming torch, it became so clear -- it had never been a woman at all. Those swaying hips, tall shoulders of panther, moonlight twisting shadows among the trees, manipulated by old veiny hand, "get back, crone!" Echoed through the night, the chances of taking a witch down this old without binding it was unlikely, but that was not his mission, to free it's victim from it's hex, all that had to be done was to baffle the caster, confuse the acute senses.

Handful of gunpowder, blew it through the flames, down on the wretch, who fizzled and hissed and she was gone. Not for long, he knew she would come back, he could fee itl, in those senses of his, soaked down to his bones.

"Take my hand," torch thrown in the air with reckless abandon, caught by gloved hand, and the other outreached, "I'm getting you outta here."

[a-tiny-teez]

Promises

" Are you ready to find?

The light under the sun ~~"

You could hear the distant sound of the waves crashing on top of one another, the chirpings of seagulls, their wings flapping. You wondered if you could fly away like that...

Your heart clenched as the smell of burnt wood made its way to you, as if to taunt you. The salty smell of sea water made you feel nostalgic as your mind wandered through the promises you've made and vowed to keep...

The harsh ocean water kept hitting you and it felt as if each jab was mean to tackle your fate...the fate you're unsure of....

Finally opening your eyes you looked to your left. Your eyelids were heavy.... jumping from unconsciousness to consciousness you fought hard to look at what you once called your home....which now was sinking to the ocean's unknown depth...

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you clutched the broken wooden deckbeneath you, remembering everything that has happened...a small whimper resonated through the wind as you touched your thigh...dried blood covered all the places as a proof of the tragedy...

A messy white cloth-now bloody-wrapped around your thigh only reminded you of him...even at his end he cared for you... knowing his utter doom he still saved you....gave you his everything....

But what did you give him?..empty promises that meant nothing now. The promises you made under the night sky, having the moon and stars as witnesses. You remembered the sneaking into the crows nest and late night talk...the comforting shoulder to rely on...the hands that intertwined with yours .....the times when you two danced under the moonlight...soft smile and loving gazes shared ...softly calling out his name you laid your entire heart in front of him.." ... you're the best gift I got in my life... please stay with me..hwa.. I love you.."

Everything hurt to remember those vivid memories.You wondered when will the final blow of wave come and take you away too....the sheer reality hitting you with it's cruelty made your heart swell...

You wondered if you had taken different decisions would these happen? You didn't know...there was no use to think anymore too.....

Tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you closed your eyes, sharply inhaling the smell of the sea and reminiscing about everything.... probably for the last time......