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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

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'someday maybe' | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: one swear? fluff and angst? kisses

summary: you're so close to finishing your second album when your manager pushes the deadline, your ex tom helps you write the final track.

{listen to someday by michael bublè and meghan trainor (if you want)}

wc: 2.1k

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey,"

"Yes, yes. I know. You are not being a very helpful manager right now, Noelle." you spoke to your phone as you paced around the living room, "Okay. I'll get working on it. Bye." you huffed and threw your phone against the couch.

Your album was due to be released in two months and you needed one more song to tie it all together. Your manager, Noelle, was pushing you to finish the song so she could start the promo of the album.

You were incredibly grateful for your career, but the pressure weighed down on you everyday. Never ending.

With a final groan you picked up your acoustic guitar and sat on the couch. Picking at the strings, trying to find a melody. You hit record on your voice memo app before strumming away.

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey, we can be in love once more. 'Till then I won't give my love away. Darling, I'm forever only yours." you sang softly.

You and Tom had a joyous relationship. A love that only ever existed in movies and fairytales. The type of love story that gets told for generations and onwards. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Your breakup was calm, serene and clean. A mutual agreement as if your whole relationship had been a business deal. There were no loose ends or jealous passive aggressive remarks made. Just maturity and respect for one another.

Your pinky still held the promise ring he gave you. A token of appreciation. A reassurance that he'd always be there for you. And he lived up to his word.

Tom walked in and sat across from you, startling you, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Whatcha writing?"

"Need a final song for the album. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just get better inspiration here, with all the memories, you know?" you timidly looked back down at the guitar.

Tom nodded, "No need to apologize. We gave you a spare key for a reason."

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling the words from your lips, "That was when we were together."

You could hear the awkward silence start to fill the room before he spoke again, "Still our best friend, Y/L/N."

The pain that crossed your features was instant. Being addressed by your last name felt like a stab to the gut. Especially by Tom.

You nodded before playing again, "Can I help you write it?" Tom asked as he sat next to you.

"Dancer, gymnast, actor and now songwriter. How many hidden talents have you got, Holland?" you teased making him laugh.

He shrugged with a smile, "It's kind of like writing a poem, right?"

You pondered on his analogy before slowly nodding, "Yeah, it kind of is. Give it a go."

You began playing the melody and he listened intently for a few moments before singing, "I love seeing you happy. I miss seeing that smile. It's been such a long time. A– Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. I can't do it." he shook his head aggressively with a loud laugh as you stopped playing.

"No!" you quickly protested, "That was amazing! Don't leave me hanging, c'mon." you nudged him with your shoulder before strumming again.

"Alright, alright." he ran his hands down his face, "And although I don't have you, I know now that I need to?" he paused and gave you a skeptical look before you nodded again, "Somehow make you mine. Mmm."

"Oh, okay. He's giving ad-libs and all. Get it." you nodded as he laughed.

You were so engrossed on Tom actually writing a song with you that you didn't focus on the lyrics he was singing.

"And I won't lie, it's hard seeing you with him 'cause I know he can't hold you like I can." his mood seemed to drop by a thousand as the words left his lips.

"When can we meet this boyfriend of yours?" Harrison flicked your forehead from across the booth.

You, Harrison, Tom and Tuwaine were all sat in the local pub. Pints of beer in front of each of you as loud music and chatting filled your ears.

You shrugged, "He's picking me up, so possibly tonight."

Tuwaine's eyes lit up, "Fina-fucking-lly. I swear you've kept him hidden for years."

"We've only been together for three months, T." you laughed lightly with the group of boys.

And they met him. It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but an introduction nonetheless.

"Boys, this is Kai. Kai this is Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine." you gestured to the parties as they all shook hands and gave polite greetings.

"So," Harrison started, "What do you do for a living, Kai?"

Kai cleared his throat, "I'm a Senior Resident at Kingston Hospital. Working towards being Head of Pediatrics."

Tuwaine and Harrison both nodded, impressed by his profession. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared at Kai with cold eyes.

"Do you have any siblings, Kai? Any psycho ex-girlfriends? Any wacky cousins?" Tuwaine joked making everyone laugh. "'Cause Y/N has a lot of wacky cousins."

"We could be in love once more,"

"Hey!" you gasped with a laugh.

Kai pulled you closer to him as he laughed, "No, no wacky cousins or psycho exes, but I do have an older sister and a younger brother."

This game of ask and answer continued on for a few more minutes. Tom didn't say a word, just sipped his beer and burned holes into Kai with his eyes. If looks could kill, Kai would be six feet under.

Kai was a sweetheart, but you two ended ages ago. His work got too much for him and your job had you touring and travelling every second.

You picked up after him with the chorus before diving into your own verse, "I remember that love song. I sang every word wrong, but you didn't mind, no, no."

"I love the things you do. It's how you do the things you love. Well it's not a love song, not a love song. I love the way you get me, but correct me if I'm wrong. This is not a love song, not a love song!" Tom belted the 'Austin & Ally' song from the top of his lungs.

"Your turn!" he pointed the pretend mic in your direction.

You laughed, not knowing any of the lyrics, but still wanting to participate, "I love that you not a licket! And you own a watch and chicken! We got a car!" you sang with full confidence, making Tom burst with laughter.

"Yes! Sing it, darling!" he cheered you on, "Absolutely butchering the lyrics, but sing it!"

"Being stuck inside a car. If it's not a doe, don't kiss it! I can't hear a missing, when there's a shoe inside the ceiling! If you really need to fart, you can lunch on a pig farm! Love song! Love song!" you couldn't even hear the song in the background, your voice overpowering it.

Tom was hunched over from laughing before he came back up and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "You are one hundred percent ridiculous and I love it."

You brought yourself back to reality and sang again, "And I'll admit that I miss you, but only if you do. 'Cause you know that I'm shy. And I can't lie, it's hard seeing you with her. 'Cause I know she can't love you like I can."

Tom's eyes met yours as the words fell from your gentle lips. His mouth was slightly agape as you continued to strum.

"You are absolute rubbish. Imagine coming in eighth. Embarassing." you laughed as you crushed Harrison in a game of Mario Kart.

He shoved you with his shoulder, "You're such a try ha—"

"—It's always the same, Tom! How can I trust you? You follow gorgeous models on Instagram and expect me to trust you?" Nadia's voice cut Harrison's words off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, his expression matching yours.

"Those women that I follow have been my friends for ages. Who I follow on a stupid app shouldn't effect how much you trust me."

You paused the game, cutting off the theme song, "How long have they been fighting like this?"

Harrison sighed, a long groan following, "A few weeks. I think it started when she saw that he liked your Instagram picture?"

You stammered, "M-my post? She got mad about my post?"

Harrison nodded before opening his mouth to speak, but Nadia cut him off again, "And she practically lives here! How do you think it makes me feel seeing my boyfriend play house with a superstar?!"

"Aw, a superstar? I'm flattered." you joked making Harrison stifle a laugh.

"I've been friends with Y/N since we were in nappies!"

"I can't be with you if you're going to be friends with her."

Your laughter abruptly died at her words. Harrison stiffened beside you.

"Y-you can't be serious. You can't make me choose between you and her."

"Why? Because you're gonna choose her?" you could hear her voice crack.

"I-" Tom couldn't make out a sentence for a few moments, "Yeah. I'm gonna choose her."

Your heart fell from it's place, stopping at your feet. Harrison brought a hand to his mouth, "H-he chose you. He chose you!" he whisper shouted before you shushed him.

"Of course. I don't know why I expected anything different. I think I'll be going now." Nadia's footsteps approached the living room.

You and Harrison scrambled to look as if you weren't eavesdropping on their argument/breakup.

Tom followed close behind her, "I'm sorry. I really am."

She nodded, hand on the doorknob, "I know. Goodbye." she stepped out of the house, slamming the front door shut in the process.

Tom let out a breath of relief before turning to you and Harrison who were staring at the Mario Kart home screen with the infamous tune playing.

"You guys are terrible actors."

"'Till then I won't give my love away,"

"I'm forever only yours." the both of you finished the song in unison.

There was a moment of silence before you reached over and ended the voice recording.

"T-that was really good. You can change what I wrote, I know it isn't as good as anything you would've written, but I tried. And it was actually pretty fun and I never knew how difficult songwriting was un—"

"—Kiss me." you cut Tom's rambling off.

His eyes grew wide, "W-wha—"

"—Kiss me, Holland."

He swallowed, a small smile stretching on his lips, "Thank God."

And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Interlocking like missing puzzle pieces. Moving in sync like waves in the ocean. Soft and sweet, but filled with passion. You could feel his smile against your lips causing you to grin.

His hand came up to pull your face closer into his. Caressing your jaw, fingertips playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. His other hand holding your hip in a tight grip. Pressing the pads of his digits into your flesh, scared that you might slip through his fingers again.

One of your hands was pressed flat against his chest. Steadying yourself, the heat of the kiss threatening to throw you off of your axis. Your other hand tangled itself into Tom's curls. Pulling and tugging lightly causing small groans to fall from Tom's lips. Your fingernails scratching his scalp. Pulling him impossibly closer to you.

"I want my ten pounds." Harrison's voice snapped you and Tom out of your make out session.

Him and Tuwaine stood in the doorway, shit eating grins on their faces.

Tuwaine laughed before placing a ten pound note in Harrison's palm, "You guys couldn't have waited until next month to get back together?"

"You two were betting on us?" Tom laughed at his mates who nodded.

You shook your head with a smile, "Absolute idiots, all of you."

Harrison let out a happy sigh and pocketed the money, "Today was a good day. Had a sick ass shoot. Got ten pounds. And my best friends are finally together again." he waltzed into the kitchen with Tuwaine, leaving you and Tom alone again.

Tom's shy expression met your gleeful one before he spoke, "Someday came a lot sooner than expected, huh?" he chuckled.

You nodded with a laugh, "It certainly did and I am not complaining."

He sent you a wide grin before cupping your face and connecting your lips to his again.

"Darling, I'm forever only yours."

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quokkacore · 3 years

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can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!"

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston.

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on.

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73.

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day.

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were.

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial.

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours.

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy.

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily.

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning.

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him.

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface."

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey."

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you."

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak.

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you.

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone.

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?"

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?"

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does."

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did.

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage."

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees."

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?"

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight.

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time.

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss.

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid.

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did.

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless.

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground.

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap.

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said.

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen.

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out.

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him.

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin.

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy.

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin.

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?"

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted."

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit.

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still.

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered.

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now.

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside."

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours.

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours.

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch.

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod.

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head.

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.”

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?"

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!"

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!"

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before.

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded.

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!"

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer.

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath.

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds.

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl."

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast.

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis.

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie."

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach.

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore."

#kwritersworldnet #nct smut #doyoung x reader #jungwoo x reader #doyoung smut #jungwoo smut #kpop smut #kpop au #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #my writing

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princessmisery666 · 3 years

Text

Shared Grief - Part 1 of 3

Summary: Dean and Emily seek comfort together in their shared grief over losing Sam. In their desperation, they may be doing more hurt than healing. Disaster and salvation surprise them both. But all choices come with a price.

Part 1 Warnings: smut, angst, grieving, cheating (sort of), bad decisions, betrayal, suicide mention, fluff, language, alcoholism, show level violence mentioned,

W/C: 6k

Part 1 Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC (Emily), Mentioned: Sam Winchester, Rowena.

Pairing: Dean x OFC.

Notes: sequel to Need Me

A/N: Honestly, it takes a village to raise a fic from idea to post-worthy, and I’d be lost without my village of wonderful people ❤

Betas: @petitgateau911 // @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are my own.

Master Lists: PrincessMisery666 // Fangirlxwritesx67

Dean was treading water. Metaphorically at least. He was doing all he could to keep his head above the surface, and he was exhausted.

Baby roaring along on the open road should have helped. But it didn’t. The journey wasn’t the problem; it was the destination. He and Emily were headed home to the bunker, and it was eating away at him, knowing the ghost of Sam would be stalking its corridors.

Even the Impala felt wrong without his baby brother. Emily was in his place, riding shotgun, leaning close to the open window. Her hair blowing back, mouthing the lyrics to the song playing on the radio, she looked like she was in some cheesy country music video. But the further they got from the town Sam died in, the more she seemed at ease. That was a small relief of sorts.

Dean’s gaze flicked from the road to her. She tilted her head to keep the sun on her face. The collar of her shirt lay askew on her collarbone, caught between her arm and the seat, the exposed edge of the mark he left on her shoulder yesterday shamed him.

For a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, swallowing thickly at the memory of her. Of being buried in her, her pushing herself back onto him and begging him to cum. He stifled a groan and readjusted himself to make his jeans a little looser.

Cold dread washed over him. A deep pit in his stomach as if he’d just dropped over the edge of the tallest rollercoaster and was hurtling toward the next drop. Only he didn’t know when the rollercoaster of his self-loathing would end or if it even had an end.

They hadn’t discussed their encounter in the bathroom. Dean didn’t know what he would say if she were to bring it up, and he certainly wouldn’t be the one to broach the subject.

Sam was gone. They had tried to bring him back, called in every favor, read every book. But it was time to stop treading water, get out of the ocean of despair, and admit that they failed. Not only had Dean failed to protect his brother, as he’d vowed to do, but he’d failed to respect him as well. He’d screwed his brother’s girl. He couldn’t think of a more fucked up combination of failures in his many years of experience.

Emily’s exasperated sigh broke his thoughts. “Say whatever’s on your mind, Dean.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring, but evidently, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. He cleared his throat to give himself a moment to think of something to say other than what he’d been thinking about. “I’m just wondering if we really did try everything to bring him back?”

“We did,” she assured him, turning her attention back to the sunshine. “And if Cas wasn’t being such an ass…”

“He’s just honoring Sam’s wishes.”

She continued as if he hadn’t offered his two cents. “...then he’d be back. So I had to…”

Her hesitation spoke volumes, and Dean knew whatever it was, it was going to be bad. “Had to, what?” She didn’t respond. His tone laced with urgency, he practically growled. “Em?”

“I asked Rowena.”

“What!” his voice thundered, the leather of the steering wheel groaned in protest under his tightening grip.

“Don’t get mad at me for doing exactly what you would’ve done had you been sober enough to think of it yourself!”

“You may as well have made a crossroads deal,” Dean snapped.

The guilt was written all over her expression, but she didn’t try to deny it when he met her eyes. “I tried that too; no one would deal,” she said, the reminder of her failure caught in her tone.

Dean shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek to stop from telling her...what? What could he say? Reprimand her for making a deal to bring Sam back? He couldn’t. He was a lot of things, but he was not a hypocrite. Instead, he opted for, “But Rowena, Em, seriously? Do you not see the big red flag here?”

“Yes, I do,” she hissed. “I’m not stupid. But I tried every other way. She’s the last person I wanted to ask for help, but it was the only thing I could think of that we hadn’t tried. I needed something, anything, to at least give you some hope.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, disliking the implication that the fault of asking the Witch somehow lay at his feet.

“I’m talking about the fact that I can accept Sam is gone, Dean,” she softly said as if afraid of saying it aloud made it more real. Her voice broke, and she made no attempt to wipe the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “I hate it, believe me, it fucking kills me, but I can accept it because I’ve lost everything before. It’s not a new thing for me. But I needed something to get through to you, and it had to be real. You’d have seen through a lie. And Rowena saying no would have been as real as it gets.”

“Em, I didn’t…”

“I know!” she exploded. “You never asked me to help you, but you're all I have left too. And drinking yourself to death was something I could prevent, so I did what I had to, and I’m not going to apologize for that!”

“I never asked you to apologize.” He said, reaching her level of anger but managing to control his voice. “But what’s your need to save me going to cost us?”

Crestfallen and clearly tired, she asked, “Does it matter?” she turned her tear-filled eyes to meet his, “Is there a price we’re not willing to pay?”

He turned back to the road. He hated it when she knew him better than he knew himself; it reminded him of Sam.

The bunker looked no different, but sadness hung heavy in the air like a poisonous gas. Emily was suffocating; every single breath threatened to consume her. It seemed as if the corridors themselves sagged with the weight of the knowledge that the large man that once walked them was gone.

She had thought, or perhaps it was hoped, that being home would make her feel closer to Sam, that the memories of his presence would be comforting. It only proved to fill her with anguish that, trapped within the walls, lay only memories and no opportunity to create more.

It had been late when they arrived, just past midnight. Dean claimed to be tired and made a sharp exit toward his bedroom, but she heard the clink of the glass bottle he took from the library on his way through. She had vowed to check on him in a few hours, make sure he was still breathing and hadn’t vomited in his sleep. His behavior was all too familiar from the last few weeks. She wasn’t sure why she had thought things would be different after their ‘talk’ from the night before.

Standing outside of the room she once shared with Sam, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to open the door. Oddly, of all she’d done since his death, to enter without him felt like the worst betrayal. She seemed to be accumulating a list of those lately. Though she hadn’t succeeded in resurrecting him, by even attempting it, she’d betrayed a promise she and Dean made as he lay dying. Then, of course, there had been the treachery of fucking his brother.

Yes, a list was undoubtedly being kept, and she didn’t have the energy to add to it.

She’d roamed the halls aimlessly for a while, opened a door here and there to see if a different room felt right. Nothing did. Eventually, she settled in the kitchen, a bottle of whisky keeping her company. She sat in the dark, fearing the light would only make way for the shadows of her sins to haunt her.

Emily’s back ached, her butt was numb, and a steady throb of a pending hangover drummed in her head. None of it mattered. She assumed time still ticked by, but she couldn’t be sure. Her world had stopped turning; only the motion of refilling her empty glass seemed pertinent.

The sudden glare of bright light made her groan and momentarily cover her eyes till they adjusted.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other covering his beating heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled before gulping the last dregs of her drink.

He walked closer to her, and his eyes dropped to the bag that was at her feet. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly, and his eyes filled with mild panic.

“You haven’t changed,” he acknowledged, seemingly calming himself from whatever the minor crisis had been. “I thought you were going to shower.”

When he’d announced he was going to bed, she’d said she was going to shower and then do the same. She hadn’t done either.

Inattentively, she said, “I was,” while she refilled her glass.

“But?” Dean asked, slipping onto the bench across from her. She downed the half measure of amber liquid. “Em?”

The glass bottle loudly tinkled as it caught the edge of her glass for another refill. He snatched it from her, spilling some of its content on her hand.

“What the fuck?” she scowled.

“This is my thing,” he smiled, jiggling the bottle. She licked the spilled alcohol from her hand and then dried it on her jeans. “Classy,” Dean remarked.

He was trying to distract her, but she didn’t have the emotional capacity to appreciate the attempt. She swirled the remaining liquid in her glass, watching the reflected pattern of the crystal cast patterns on the tabletop. She hoped avoiding eye contact would be enough to tell him she wanted to be left alone.

It would seem that hints weren’t enough, though. Dean dipped his head, trying to catch her downcast eyes. She threw back her drink, then put her legs up on the bench seat and rested her head on the wall behind her.

Emily sighed heavily and closed her eyes to the glare of light. “Leave me alone, Dean, please.”

“Not gonna happen,” he said. “It’s almost five. What're you doing in here?”

Evidently, time had still been ticking by. She didn’t engage in the conversation; perhaps he’d get bored and leave her alone.

“Em, are you leav...” he stopped, and she heard him clear the worry from his tone with a slight cough. “Are you leaving?”

Her eyes snapped open of their own volition, and she faced his serious hazel stare head-on. It would have been unfair to ignore him now.

She shook her head slowly, “No.”

“So what’s with the bag?” he nudged at it with his foot under the table for good measure.

“I haven’t unpacked.” And only now did his earlier panic make sense. He’d seen her bag and wrongly concluded she was leaving. “I...um...I couldn’t go into our room. I couldn’t go into any room.”

Dean had no response except a small nod of understanding. He refilled her glass, and she closed her eyes again to sip the heartbreak medicine.

She focused on the burn in her throat, listened to Dean’s breathing, the scratch of his glass on the polished wood.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” she said, unaware of where the words were coming from, continuing, nevertheless. “The waves have knocked me under so many times I don’t know which way is up. But at the same time, I could breathe fire.” A parade of sadness cascaded down her cheeks. “I’m so angry. I don’t see why everyone else gets to be happy, but I don’t. Sam saved a lot of people, and that’s an amazing thing, but…” She growled out her annoyance. What good would it do saying it aloud?

Dean finished the thought for her, “You’d sacrifice every single one of them if it meant Sam could live.”

Sometimes she forgot how alike they were. Dean’s apparent mind-reading gave her a minute sense of comfort that she wasn’t completely alone.

“Yes,” She nodded and met his expression of shamed contrition with one she imagined echoed it. “Exactly.”

“Sam would be so mad at both of us for saying that,” he chuckled joylessly.

“I’ll just add it to the list.”

His brow creased with confusion. “List?”

“The list of all the things Sam would hate me for, it’s becoming quite extensive.”

“Em, don’t.”

“I need to, Dean.”

Exasperated, he asked, “Why?”

“Cause it’s easier to hate myself than try to hate Sam for leaving us.”

“So, what, you can’t be pissed at Sam, so you’re pissed at me?”

“That’s not what I said, and I’m not pissed at you,” she told him, swinging her legs off the bench to place them flat on the floor and face him.

“You should be,” he said, getting to his feet and walking to put his glass in the sink.

She waited until he was looking at her again before she shrugged, “Probably.” She stared intently at him to ensure he understood the severity of what she was about to say. “But then I’d have to be pissed at myself ‘cause for those few minutes, I forgot about Sam and the pain. For those few minutes, I was only thinking about myself, my own selfish needs, and yeah, that makes me a terrible fucking person, but it felt good to forget.”

He held her intense gaze for an endless moment. Long enough for her to worry that she had made him angry enough to render him speechless and that his fury would erupt into a frenzy of broken glass or a fist through a wall.

With startling speed, he crowded into her space, bending at the waist to crush his mouth to hers. The kiss was bruising, teeth clashed, and he nipped at her lips. Palm flat against her throat, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her neck, teetering on aggression. Dean could crush her larynx with the strength contained in that one hand, but she didn’t care. She rose to her feet to meet him with just as much vigor.

Somewhat awkwardly, she stepped over the bench, and as soon as her feet were flat on the floor again, Dean broke the kiss long enough for them to get each other’s shirts off, and then he was on her again. He slipped a hand up her back, unclasped her bra with one swift motion, and pulled it down her arms, discarding it over his shoulder. She raked her nails up and down his stomach before dropping a hand to rub over the swelling bulge in his pyjama bottoms.

Dean groped and kneaded her breasts, walking her backwards. Emily’s back collided with the wall, and he pinned her arms above her head. The collision propelled the air from her lungs, and he pulled back.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asked.

She panted breathlessly but told him, “Yes.”

He searched her face. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to stop from attaching herself to him again. She could see the internal debate he fought. The lust, and she supposed, the ire of the moment had passed, and his guilt was overpowering his desire to induce temporary amnesia.

“Fuck, Em,” he dropped his head to look down at their bodies pressed against each other, but he didn’t back up, and he kept her arms trapped between his and the concrete. “What’re we doin’?”

“Forgetting,” she said, extremely aware of her hardened nipples brushing his chest with every labored breath she took.

Eyebrows raised, he asked, “Is that a good enough excuse?”

She shrugged slightly. It didn’t matter if it was or not; it was the only one she had. She turned her head to the side, unable to look at him this time, ashamed that she’d been all in and that Dean was being the rational one.

“If you don’t think so, then let me go.”

When he dropped her arms and took a half-step back, it appeared that he didn’t think it was. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She reached for her bra that lay discarded on the table, but Dean grabbed her wrist. Still unwilling to look at him, knowing the rejection would be written all over her face, her eyes remained focused on where the heat of his grasp was burning into her skin. “Dean?” she questioned.

He used her wrist as leverage to yank her into him; his eyes squeezed shut. “I wanna forget,” he whispered, circling the tip of her nose with his own. “Even just for a little while.”

“Me too.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her already swollen lips. “So let’s make it last,” he suggested, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen.

Dean’s room became a paradise of forsaking reality. As soon as Emily shut the door, he imprisoned her against it. There was less haste now that they were in the confines of his room but just as much desperate desire. He eased his mouth onto hers paying closer attention to their kiss this time, controlling the lazy, gentle pace. He’d kissed a lot of women in his time, considered himself an expert of sorts, and the way Emily’s mouth moved with his excited him to the point of making his cock twitch in anticipation.

She pulled back, and her eyes held a dark hunger he’d never seen before. She took his cotton bottoms with her as she went to her knees, and he braced himself against the door to toe them off.

Emily wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, and then slowly licked from the tip to meet her fingers. She used her skillful tongue to tease the promise of what was to come but never actually took him completely in her mouth.

He groaned, frustrated, and bucked his hips.

“Stop thinking,” she told him between featherlight kisses on his thighs and the dome of his cock. She looked up at him, “stop thinking of what’s to come, concentrate on what's happening now, on me, how it feels.”

He huffed a breath but did as she instructed. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes and focused all his senses on her—the softness of her hair as it slid through his fingers, the heat of her breath against him, her subtle hum whenever her lips met his skin, the sweet smell of her body wash mixed with the musk of her desire. He cleared his mind of anything other than the delicious urge to stuff her face full of him.

“Good boy,” she praised, the wicked smile evident in her tone.

“Fuck o…” she stole the last syllable by sliding his penis on her tongue and pushing forward until her nose hit his pubic bone.

She showed him exactly how skillful her tongue was. She swirled and frolicked, wrapped her hand around his shaft, twisting her wrist slightly as she moved back and forth.

“You look good stuffed full of me,” he said, pushing her hair back.

Watery eyes gazed up at him, the shine of saliva on her lips glistened like diamonds, and it took all his willpower not to shoot his load. She delightfully hummed as if he was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into her. Sooner than he liked, he was dangling over the edge.

“Em, I’m gonna cum,” he warned, holding himself back from letting go. “You gotta stop if you want…”

She shook her head, drew back enough to mumble, “do it,” before continuing her unforgiving tempo.

“Shit,” he cursed, “that’s good, just like that.”

He spilled down the back of her throat, groaning up at the ceiling. She swallowed his load and then licked him clean, making sure she got every drop.

He helped her stand up, and the smirk she wore was full of amused pride. “Somethin’ funny?” he questioned her small chuckle.

“You should see how absolutely wrecked you look right now,” she said, wiping her mouth again. “It’s a good look.”

He nodded, smoothed on his own shit-eating grin. “I get it. Emily one, Dean zero.”

She formed an O with her thumb and index finger. “Oh, yeah.”

He kissed her neck; traveling south, he left a path of hot kisses in his wake while he unbuttoned her jeans. “Proud of yourself?” he asked, crouching to push her jeans down. He kissed her stomach, and she used her feet to get her jeans off. Once she was free of the denim, he swiftly threw her over his shoulder.

“Yes,” she yelped in surprise but didn’t fight him.

He dropped her onto his bed, watched her bounce before she settled, and looked up at him under her lashes. He put a knee next to hers. “I guess I should even the playing field then,” he concluded, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Back in the motel bathroom, their first time had been quick; there had been no time for foreplay or teasing. This time, he wanted her strung out and begging him to fuck her into oblivion.

She was sopping wet, and his fingers easily slipped between her folds. The magnitude of her arousal was mouth-watering, and a growl rumbled in his chest. He’d barely touched her, yet she was dripping wet in anticipation. He loved women that got turned on by pleasing their partner - the give and take, the mutual gratification, always made for a much more enjoyable experience.

She bucked her hips in an attempt to get his swirling fingers to enter her instead of just teasing at her entrance.

He broke the kiss to look down at her and whispered, “Stop thinking.”

She locked her eyes to his, smirking, “Cocky, son of aaaaaa…”

He pushed his middle finger in, the digit snatching the curse from her mouth. He swirled his finger sluggishly, feeling her walls, searching. He listened closely for a hitch of breath, watched her face for the telltale sign he was right where she wanted him to be. To feel her squirm slightly to figure out that sweet spot to push her limits.

She never once shied from his gaze, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he stared down at her. He moved slightly left then right, dragged out and back in gradually.

“There,” she told him.

He stilled, pushed in a little deeper. “There?”

“Uh-huh,” she groaned. “A bit higher, curl your finger.”

He followed her instructions, adding his index finger. “Like that?”

Her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed, “Fuck, yeah, just like that.” She raised her leg, heel digging into the bed as if she wanted to crawl away. After half a minute, she demanded, “More.”

“More what?” he asked with a low chuckle, “Pressure? Speed? Be specific, sweetheart.”

“Fingers,” she said breathlessly.

He added his ring finger and used his thumb to swirl her clit. He drew back, and the lewd sound of her arousal was obscenely inviting. She grabbed her left breast, kneading and massaging it, pinching and pulling her hardened nipple.

Dean felt his cock answer her breathless moans; it stirred as she writhed against the bed. She grabbed a fistful of the bedsheets and pressed her other fist to her mouth, trying futility to muffle a wanton scream. As her climax soaked his fingers, he could feel he was achingly hard again.

He dipped to kiss her softly, waited for her eyes to open while he slowed his pace but kept finger fucking her to keep her ready for him. “Em, move up the bed,” he soothed, though what he had planned was the opposite of his tone.

She shuffled up, and he followed, fingers still working her over. Her head hit the pillows, hair billowing around her like a halo, and her relaxed, post-orgasm features looked almost angelic. The irony of such a thought was not lost on him. He shook his head to stop his brain from conjuring up any more misguided thoughts of his brother’s girlfriend being angelic.

He slid his sopping wet fingers through her folds and up her body—grazing over her stomach, circling each taut nub of her breasts, trailing along the column of her throat, finally slipping them into her mouth.

She lapped up the juice, humming around each digit till they were clean of everything but her scent and saliva.

He kissed her when she was done, harder than he’d intended, but his eagerness got the better of him. Palms flat either side of her head, she lined him up with her entrance, the dome of his cock resting against her folds.

“Ready?”

She nodded, and he moved in slowly, but she had other ideas. She hooked her legs around his hips, heels digging into his ass, and she used the leverage to impale herself on his cock.

They both called out simultaneously; she arched her back, breasts rubbing against his chest. They stilled for a moment while they panted for breath. Emily was the first to recover, lying flat once again, but he could feel her subtle thrusts seeking the friction of movement.

“Dean,” she whined.

It was almost pitiful, but he felt it too. The absolute, undeniable animalistic need to just fuck. He started slowly, giving her three or four shallow thrusts to adjust to the girth of his cock.

“Harder,” she demanded and once again painfully dug her heels into his ass.

He obliged and shoved forward fast. Skin slapped every time his pelvis met hers, and she whimpered and moaned.

“Harder, Dean, please,” Emily begged.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want you to,” she admitted, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

He paused his rhythm; he needed to focus on what she was saying, not the tightening of his balls.

“Please,” she said almost meekly, as if she expected the request to be answered with anger.

He kissed her while he readjusted to lean his weight on his elbows, wrapping his arms under her shoulders. “Are you sure?” he asked, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“Please, Dean, I need it.”

“Just tell me to stop, and I will.” He swirled his hips once and drove forward, hard. “That okay?”

“Yes.”

He did it again, but sharper this time. She hissed then hummed as if she’d just had an ice-cold glass of water on the hottest day of summer. He snapped his hips, harsher again, and his satisfied groan rumbled from his chest. Her back arched that time, and she met his thrust with her own. The rhythm was clumsy before they settled on a brutal, deep force driving them into each other, over and over.

Emily left quick little kisses on his neck between sharp inhales of oxygen that his relentless pounding robbed from her lungs. He swore a few of her whimpers sounded as if she were in pain, but she never told him to stop, and he didn’t want to.

He felt her clench around him, and she bit down on his shoulder.

“Harder,” Dean commanded. He felt her come coat his dick, and her teeth sunk deeper as if she needed it to ground herself while she pulsed around his cock. A moment before she broke the skin, he grunted and let himself go inside of her.

She continued to kiss his neck, and Dean felt the satisfied smile on her mouth. She practically vibrated with jubilation. He felt it, too, the electricity of the endorphins floating in their bloodstreams.

She clenched her walls, very deliberately and he shuddered. “Fuck, Em, give me a minute.”

“Nuh-uh,” she replied, nipping at his earlobe.

She shoved at his shoulder, and he took the hint to roll off to lay beside her. Before he’d taken a full breath, she was up on her knees, peppering his chest with light kisses. The woman was insatiable, and he couldn’t claim to blame her; the sex had been incredible, and he wasn’t done with her or forgetting yet, but he needed time to regroup.

She placed herself between his legs, and seemingly reading his mind, she said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

She looked up at him from under her lashes, and before he could ask what she was doing, she licked a line from his base to tip.

“Fuck,” he whined, feeling the stimulation have the desired effect.

Dean lay alone in the dark when he woke just after two in the afternoon. For the numerous hours they had been together, drawing out one orgasm after another - with hands, mouths, and vehement fucking - Dean had forgotten. But now, his indiscretions were an unmanned freight train hurtling down a track destined to crash.

Emily had left his bed to clean up. He hadn’t quite expected her to return, yet he had felt real disappointment when he’d turned over and found himself alone. It seemed his own list of ‘Things Sammy would hate me for’ was also becoming quite extensive.

He forced himself out of bed and to his feet. Though he saw no real reason to get up, his stomach had other ideas, and it loudly growled as he left his room.

He visited the bathroom, the tiles were gleaming, and the stench of mixed cleaning products was overwhelming enough to make his eyes water. How long had Emily been up to have cleaned the entire bathroom? Next, he attended to his stomach’s protests. He headed for the kitchen, where more cleaning aromas accosted him.

She wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was a note sitting on top of styrofoam boxes - boxes that he knew contained pancakes and bacon from the Greasy Spoon diner in Lawrence. He concluded there had been no possible way Emily had slept; she wouldn’t have had the time to clean and take a trip into Lawrence and back.

Dean, Gone to do an easy as pie salt and burn, be back in a few days. Please don’t drink yourself into an early grave while I’m gone. Em x

She’d left, just like that. Dean felt like he was swimming upstream, fighting against the powerful current, and there was no one around to help pull him out. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he relied on Emily. He trusted her as much as he trusted Sam. She’d proven her loyalty and commitment over and over, never more than when she hadn’t bolted as soon as Sam passed away.

Dean wouldn’t have blamed her if she had; he was aware of the fact he wasn’t a joy to be around. He turned almost every conversation into a fight, used her as a piñata to verbally batter and bruise when he needed an outlet for his ire. To top it off, he’d used her as a sparring partner in the bedroom, trading bitter orgasms instead of punches.

He found he had a desperate urge to speak to Sam. To ask for his advice on how best to deal with everything that was happening and how to help himself and Emily move on from the loss of him. But he couldn’t.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked, bypassing a greeting as soon as the call connected.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Emily replied, shit-eating grin clear as day in her tone. “I guess the endorphins have worn off.”

“Cut the shit, Em! Where are you?”

“Didn’t you read the note?” He heard her eyes roll. “It’s an easy salt and burn. I’m already ninety-nine percent sure I know who it is; I just need to check local burial records.”

“So what’s the rush? Hold fire and wait for me.”

“I’m more than capable.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“So what’s the problem?” she sighed.

He wasn’t sure what the problem was. He just knew he didn’t like the idea of her out there working alone.

He took too long to answer, and she spoke first, “Don’t tell me you’re pissed that I hit it and quit it,” she chuckled. “The king of hookups, upset that he woke up alone. Aww.”

He hated the image of her pity-filled face that flashed in his mind. The mark she’d left on his shoulder throbbed, and he winced slightly at the scratch of broken skin against the rough fabric of his T-shirt on his back.

“Fuck off, Em. It isn’t that, and you know it,” he growled. Though her snarky remark reminded him she hadn’t slept, “My problem is you’re functioning on what? The two hours of sleep you got in the Impala yesterday?” She didn’t reply, and he felt a little smug. “You’re being reckless.”

“Yeah, probably,” she said though it sounded more like ‘fuck off’. “I’ll be home in a couple of days.”

“Emily,” he warned, but she’d already hung up.

Dean entered the war room from the garage, juggling two brown paper bags overflowing with groceries. The scent of garlic wafted, and the distant hum of music traveled through the library. Evidently, Emily was back. A day later than she’d anticipated.

They hadn’t spoken since she’d hung up on him, but he had asked Garth to keep an ear out on the off chance she required assistance. Her stubborn pride would have stopped her from calling Dean for help after she’d essentially told him to fuck off.

She was pouring a pot of sauce on top of layered pasta sheets, her famous - and one of Dean’s favorites - lasagne. She was trying to suck up. He startled her by dropping the bags onto the table.

“Shit,” she gasped, whipping her head around to look over her shoulder. “You scared me, asshole.”

“Good evening to you too, sunshine,” Dean countered, lips pressed in a tight line. Admittedly, he was still angry.

“And you’re still in a pissy mood, got it,” she concluded, placing the pot into the sink.

He set about emptying the bags while she busied herself chopping salad.

Without looking up from her task, she asked, “You not gonna ask how it went?”

He didn’t need to ask, nor did he want to give her the satisfaction of letting her think he wanted to know. “You’re here, you’re alive,” He hated the relief he heard in his tone. So to counter it, he snarked, “what else do I need to know?”

“Were you worried about me?”

He didn’t answer, just shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the table. She halted her task and turned on the spot, leaning her butt on the countertop. She watched his back and forth from the table to the cupboards. Though he didn’t give her his full attention till he’d put the last item - a six-pack of beer - in the fridge, he caught a hint of shyness or possibly embarrassment coloring her cheeks a rosy pink.

Finally, with groceries in their rightful places, he faced her fully. A nasty gash ran from her left eyebrow and disappeared into her hairline, and he felt the muscles in his jaw flex. That was precisely why he should have been with her.

“More than capable, huh?” he echoed her words.

A self-satisfied smile tugged her lips back, and she countered, “I’m here, I’m alive, aren’t I?” with just as much sarcasm.

They glared at one another. Emily puffed her chest out, preparing for the ensuing argument, and Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, ready to spit venom at whatever cutting remark she would make. They’d always done this, competed to see who could piss off the other more, but now without Sam to play referee; he wasn’t sure how far they would both take it.

To his complete astonishment, she backed down with a heavy sigh. Speaking softly, “I’ve been on solo hunts before, Dean.” She dropped her eyes to look at his feet, and that rosy hue returned to highlight her cheeks.

Her backing down had been so unexpected that he was unable to stop the defence he’d already built up and bit back sharply, “I know.” He wasn’t yet ready to yield or believe that she really had conceded. “But that was before we…”

“Before what?” she coaxed. ”Before we slept together?”

“Before we lost Sam! Jesus,” he groaned.

He was disgusted with himself for what they’d done. It had been a mutual decision, one made together, but he had been the instigator of both encounters. Two wrongs didn’t make a right, he knew that, but he didn’t trust himself not to add one more, just to be sure. But why did she have to keep reminding him? Indignation morphed his face to a look of revulsion, and he quickly headed to the fridge to hide it from Emily. He was a second too slow.

“Wow, now there’s a look every girl wants to see at the mention of fucking her,” she remarked. Her next words were further away, and Dean turned to see her spit them over her shoulder as she walked out. “Next time, add a gagging sound effect, then it will really hit home.”

He chased after her, catching up before she made it to the library. He grabbed her elbow, spun her to face him, and clutched her biceps to hold her in place. She tried to wriggle free of his grasp and he pinched harder. He’d leave bruises, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

“What do you want from me, Em?” he all but yelled. “You want me to tell you I liked screwing you? Fine. I liked it, hell more than liked it; it was fuckin’ incredible.” Tears raced down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, but he couldn’t stop the words tumbling out now that he’d let his defences down. “You want me to tell you that I worry about you? I do. You’re all I’ve got, and now that Sam is gone, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

The mention of Sam seemed to break something in her, and she lost the strength to stand. Dean’s grip was enough to keep her upright, but the one hundred and seventy-something pounds of deadweight made him stumble into the wall. He ended up on his ass, dragging her unceremoniously down with him.

She closed in on herself, folding into as tight a ball as she could manage, and huddled against his chest, she sobbed. The hazel-eyed hunter wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as tightly as he thought he could without hurting her.

By the time she was done, the cold from the tiled floor had seeped into his bones. Her tears had run out, and the sole move she made was to slip her arms around his waist. Her shuddered breaths were the only indication she hadn’t fallen asleep. He continued to stroke her hair; he’d seen Sam do it and knew it comforted her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit,” Dean whispered, not trusting his voice to speak at normal volume. “Everything that’s happened… it messed me up. I need a second to breathe. Just don’t... I’m working it out. So just don’t give up on me, please.”

Her whole body tensed a moment before she untangled their bodies enough to look into his eyes, and he saw his misery reflected back.

“Never,” she promised softly.

He wiped the tear that rolled down his cheek and kept his focus on a spot on the floor. “I can’t say I won’t ever let you down, ‘cause we both know I probably will, but....” he huffed out a breath. He wasn’t saying what he wanted to say. Sam had always been better at the mushy stuff. That thought, rather than making him recoil at the reminder of his betrayal, somehow spurred him on to find the right words. He met her eyes and could feel the pleading expression that settled on his face. “I saved your life once, and I don’t know why you’d even wanna try, but I think, maybe, in time, you could save mine too.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

They moved simultaneously toward one another. Though it wasn’t hurried, Dean felt the desperation that passed between them. It was more than a kiss; it was a vow to help one another; it was Emily supplying Dean with the oxygen he needed to breathe in the ocean of despair he found himself drowning in.

Part 2

#Dean Winchester #Angst #Smut #Smangst #Dean Winchester Smangst #SPN #Dean Winchester smut #DW #Dean W smut #DeanWinchester #DeanWinchesterAngst #DeanWinchesterSmut #Sam Winchester #Rowena #Shared Grief

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missskzbiased · 4 years

Text

The Three Lessons

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff (Hm…), Witch! Au, Love Triangle

Pairing: Chan X Fem! Reader X Seungmin

Word Count: ~5,1K

(The First) (The Second) (The Third)

Warnings: (Mild) Mentions of [Death, Burned Witches, Torture, Poisoning]

Reminder: I’m not a witch and do not have knowledge of any kind about the matter in modern days. It’s mere fantasy writing. It’s not intended to reflect Neopaganism since I’m not versed in it.

Notes: Reference to Songs: “The River Is Flowing” (Lindie Lila) [I modified the lyrics to fit my need] and “The Ghost of Pagan Song” (Donovan)

Updates: I’m writing the 2nd Chap yet. As soon as I finish it and review it, I’ll post it.

Tagging: Please, send me an ask/DM me if you wish to be tagged

////

CHAPTER 1: The First Lesson

There are only three lessons you should never forget, kiddo…

The voice faded away like a thin fog vanishing from your view, and you couldn’t help but wonder why your sub-conscience felt the urge to remind you about it every single day of your life. You fluttered your fingers ─intertwined on top of your chest─ beginning to regain your consciousness over your body, feeling every inch of your form wake up along with your mind before you slowly opened your eyes to fix your gaze on the ceiling.

At the age of seventeen, you should be used to have this same dream over and over again ─ as if your brain was some kind of broken parrot, who couldn’t stop replaying it on your mind every night ─ but you weren’t, and you didn’t really feel like you would ever be.

The ceiling looked like the usual: Woody and leafy, as you liked to define.

You didn’t need to look around to know exactly what it looked like because, for seventeen years of your life, you woke up in the exact same spot. You lived in the exact same place. You interacted with the exact same people. You lived the exact same life. You had the exact same dream. You heard the exact same voice. You learned exactly… Well, at least you learned different things over your life.

And again, none of those answered your questions.

You felt your sweat dripping slowly from your forehead; all your body burnt as if you were baking something all day long ─ except you weren’t ─, and at this point, you weren’t even surprised anymore. Every day you woke up like this: Dripping sweat and burning fever.

The Coven swore to you that you weren’t sick.

It was just Nature manifesting itself.

You never saw Nature manifesting like this on any of your fellow members.

You knew it had something to do with your dream but you couldn’t completely understand it. The scenes were blurry ─just like when you’re crying and the tears make it impossible to discern anything before your eyes ─, and the voices that surrounded you were loud and incomprehensive enough to confuse you to the core. The only thing you could really point out was that at the center of whatever place it was and surrounded by the crowd, something was consumed by the flames.

It was easy enough to assume that something had a name…

It was only logical to assume that the voices resumed the existence of that something ─ who was indeed a someone ─ in the only thing they could understand; chanting it in a tone filled with hatred and fear… You could only assume that the nameless figure who was engulfed by the flames ─ the only discernable thing in your dream, a bright orange-ish dance that emanated all the warmth that you felt burn your body at night─ was being called a witch.

Just like you.

You couldn’t even count the times you woke up afraid of being that nameless figure burning down on that stake… You couldn’t even count the times that you prayed for Nature to protect you like She had protected so many of yours… You couldn’t even count the times that you wished your undiscovered power wasn’t premonitory… You couldn’t even count the times you asked for The Elders to take this away from you.

Yet, They couldn’t.

Nature wants you to live with it, They said.

Pretty convenient.

“Do you need me to throw cold water on you or will you raise that butt by yourself?” The door shoot open as the old lady ─ also known as your grandma─ opened all the windows with a flick of her hand. The wood slammed on more wood, sounding loud and clear into your head, and all the brightness of the day got to your eyes, hurting them “I’ll give you three seconds!” She chanted, walking around the space, and picking up things around.

She was loud as hell.

You would expect an old lady like her to be really slow and quiet, maybe feel a lot of pain and complain a lot.

Actually, one of those could be checked.

She complained a whole lot.

“And three!” She snapped her fingers.

You felt the mattress whip under you ─ twitching in a way that projected your body out of it─, making you yelp as your body raised in the air, limbs floundering around as you waited for her to do something to prevent you from falling to the ground. You raised your voice as you yelled, eyes widening and heart bursting out in your chest, feeling despair wash over you as your body began to make its way to the ground.

“And two!” She snapped her fingers again, sounding giggly as she did it, and you made a mental note to make a hell out of her life by the end of the day.

The vines that hung from your ceiling came to life, tangling over your limbs to pick you up right before you hit the ground. They lifted your body enough to get you to her eye level, and she grinned at you, looking harmless as her eyes molded into crescents. You shot her a scorn grimace, waiting for her to give the order, so the vines would peacefully place you to the ground. She took one step back, taking the bucket she had under her arms and smiling brightly at you before snapping her finger, a coil of fluids forming of thin air to fill it up.

Oh, boy.

“And one!” She sang before jolting the bucket and hitting your face with cold water. You shut your eyes, mouth agape as you felt the drops rolling down your face, the cold feeling penetrating your skull and waking you up completely “Let’s go, we have a lot to do today!” She dropped the bucket with a loud thud before clapping her hands twice, turning her back to you and heading to the door.

“A little hand here?!” You yelled as she disappeared from your view, and her head came back into your view, peeking over the doorframe slyly. You waved your arms in the air, gesticulating to yourself and tightening your lips, suggestively looking at her, so she would realize you were still stuck on there.

“Oh, right!” She chuckled dismissively “Vivi, let her go, Sweetheart!” She said friendly, and the vines ─ Vivi, as they were called─ promptly dropped you to the ground. You hit the floor with a loud thud, arms preventing your face to smash on the floor, raising your head to glare at your grandmother.

“Really?!” You whined, yelling so she could hear you after disappearing again behind the doorframe. You rolled over your back, watching as the vines retracted to the ceiling, adorning the wooden beam there “Well, thank you, Vivi!” You sneered but they didn’t give you any attention, tangling over the wood and resting peacefully.

“What is all that commotion?” You tilted your head back, taking into your view an upside down Chan framed by the door “Again?” He giggled, dimples digging his face as he approached you, extending his hand for you to take. You took it gratefully, standing up with his help and dusting off your clothes, trying to look presentable enough.

The blond warlock didn’t seem to mind your soaked self or your sticky hair to your face, keeping his smile as if he didn’t even notice the mess you looked like right now. He ruffled your wet hair, chuckling as you shrank embarrassed, before he raised his index finger, spinning it around. The warm and soft air jet that twirled from his fingertip slowly dried out your hair and clothes, and you took the opportunity to fix them once again.

“This is so cool!” He chirped “I never thought I would have this honor” He sighed, satisfied.

Chan was an expert among the few Warlocks you had at The Coven. It was general knowledge that magic manifestation in natural forms ─ such as elemental spells ─ was uncommon for Warlocks but there he was, playing with the warm air. No one believed him when ─ at the age of nineteen, only halfway through his witchcraft studies ─ Chan said he learned to use some basic air spells.

It had been a week and he had yet to grow used to the idea.

Although some of the others related his abilities to the fact that he was the grandson of The Airy Elder, you didn’t agree with them. None of the others could make spells, and some of the Warlocks, such as Changbin, were grandsons of other Founders too. The fact was that Chan had a pure soul; pure enough for Nature herself to grant him the honor to hold her power.

You may be a little biased, though.

“First, stop flattering yourself!” You joked, pushing him lightly, getting a giggle out of him “Second, I was totally going to get up!” You defended yourself, which he dismissed with a knowing look that made you blush. You cleared your throat ─ a vain attempt to hide how your heart drummed inside your chest ─, feeling embarrassment wash over you at the mere thought of your painfully obvious crush being there for anyone to see.

It was especially uncomfortable to know that Chan had a great hearing.

The young Warlock specialty was to hear the soul and heart’s voices.

At this point, you could just deafen him just by your heartbeat.

“Oh?” He blurted out, arching his brows as he shot a look to the ceiling. You followed his gaze to meet a small bird flying around in a spiral right on top of you two. He extended his finger in a twig-like gesture that invited the tiny creature to approach him, which it did. The bird landed on his finger, fleeting and tilting its head to glance at both of you, blinking rapidly. You stared at it curiously, tilting your head to the side, and it funnily mimicked you.

Stop flirting around and come help me, you ungrateful child!

You rolled your eyes when your Grandma’s voice sounded through its opened beak, embarrassed. Chan seemed to find it funny enough, though, because soon he was in stitches, holding his stomach as his laughter sounded like jingling bells. The bird flew off right after, startled by his sudden motion, letting you and the amused boy by yourselves once more.

He recomposed himself, wiping a tear from his eyes and chuckling before looking softly at you and gesture to the door, accompanying you out of the cottage. You closed the door behind you ─ rubbing your arm awkwardly as you averted your eyes ─, trying to figure something cool to say that could cover up all the embarrassing moments before. He took it in the wrong way, though, taking off his coat and covering your shoulders with it, throwing you a warm smile.

“Oh, no! There is no need for such a thing!” You rushed to say, trying to take out his clothes. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them lightly before chuckling. You glanced at him coyly and he patted your shoulders, fixing his gaze somewhere behind you before leaning closer to your ear, his breathy giggle fluttering some hair strands on your temples.

“Keep it… Who knows how many surprises she holds for you?” He whispered, turning you around to look at your impatient Grandma, tapping her foot on the ground. He pushed you lightly, waving goodbye when you threw a look over your shoulder before picking up your pace to reach the upset Elder.

/////

The trees' crown rustled, allowing the thin light beams to dance on the ground.

The gleam caught your eyes for a split of a second, bringing a content smile to your face as you felt the warmth of the woods impregnate your body; the blowing wind inciting you to spin around with the dancing trees. You fluttered your limbs in a dainty motion ─ spiraling once while feeling the breeze dance along with you ─, connecting yourself with every single living creature around for just a brief moment, enough to bring you to tears.

The moment was overwhelming and you felt your heart swell before the gentle breeze and calming tune that came from the deepest parts of the woods shattered in small pieces right before you. The silence that came along was overbearing. It was like every single one of the creatures mourned and yet gloated, choosing to retire themselves for a while; a suffocating hollowness falling to the woods.

The sudden gale hit you like a slap, pushing your body backward before spiraling around you ─ and you around ─, bringing altogether thousands of voices that didn’t seem to belong to anyone, and yet seemed to belong to everything. You shot your head up, eyes roaming around the woods as you tried to spot whoever was the source of such powers, but meeting no one to the sight. The whispers resounded in your mind, bewildering you, and the mix of voices buzzed to your ears before dying out gradually.

Nature allows you to be who you truly are… Never turn your back on her

The First Lesson was chanted by a soft voice brought by the wind, a voice that soon enough fell silent again; just like the woods. You roamed your eyes around ─ urging to make sense out of the suspicious situation ─, noticing how the animals hid far from the sight, a less than best-case-scenario for your hunting.

The silence was broken once more by the wind itself, a sourceless yowling blown into your ears, making you snap your eyes to the side, startled. Once again, no one was in sight. You had this odd feeling in your gut, like an intruder just came into your home, and the bitterness that grew on your tongue prompted you to grunt, sharp eyes darting between the trees.

“Reveal yourself!” You demanded, head swiveling but meeting nothing but the forest before you. The wind blew again, whispering through the leaves, and this time you followed its flow cautiously, eyes attentive to every single flutter you caught in the way. It faded away just like this, without a path for you to follow, and you groaned in frustration.

What ─ in the name of the Goddess ─ was happening here?

“H-Help…” Your ears perked up, eyes shooting to your left “P-please…” It was a small voice, undoubtedly owned by a human, and the realization made you shiver. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, sighing as you pondered what to do. Should you pretend you didn’t hear it?

The wind blew again, violent, as a not so silent warning.

You tsked, sighing before slinking through the trees for a few minutes until you spotted the boy on the ground, curled up. He seemed to be young ─maybe around your age─, dark hair stuck to his sweaty skin and eyes unfocused, roaming around. There was no doubt that his intoxicated figure ─pale skin, delusional eyes, and dry lips─ were caused by the one thing that had your hands tied: The River.

As much as you pitied his agonizing end, he deserved it.

You would never forget the day when all of the younger ones ─ such as yourself─ joined to ask The Elders why you couldn’t go into the woods like the older witches and warlocks, upset that you couldn’t do anything for The Coven.

You would never forget the way your Grandma looked at you ─ letting the pain wash over her features right in front of your eyes─ before averting her gaze to the horizon, a stern and distant self that seemed to look directly to the past as if she could see everything unraveling right before her eyes.

“The Humans… They were cruel to us” You remembered her saying “They tortured us over the years in ways that I wouldn’t dare to tell you kids in details… The Coven is protecting you from them and you should listen to us because no one else out there will care for you as we do” Her answer wasn’t satisfactory for any of you, so you whined, prepared to make a commotion. She stomped the ground ─a loud roar echoing from under her foot─ and looked at each of you with a steel-cold gaze.

“Take a look at those” She raised her feet, exposing burn scars all over the sole, making all of you gasp in unison “I was captured by The Humans ages ago… Before The Coven was even founded... I and tons of other witches were tortured for being what we are… Women. They hate us and persecute us. They wanted us dead…”

“They restrained us to the point we couldn’t feel our own blood running through our veins… The blood that connects us to this Nature… Some of us lost our hands or our feet… Some of us lost our lives at this point… It didn’t really matter to them” The pause revealed a suffocating silence but none of you dared to interrupt her rewind, keeping your breaths withhold “The ones who survived were already deprived of water, food, or light… We had only ourselves, our voices, our hope, and our faith with us. We didn’t even have clothes, as they stripped us and let us freeze to death. Some of us did. Some of us didn’t”

“The ones that still survived all that were beaten up to the ground… Battered to the point they couldn’t even bear to stand up and fell dead right there, in front of our eyes… I wish I could say it was just it… Just once… They selected some of us to go to the woods, to let us have the chance to survive” She scoffed, looking away “The ones that weren’t selected were allowed to drink some water before going through all that over again… And again… And again… They had us for about three weeks” Her eyes teared up, and you still had the urge to cry until today whenever you remembered her broken voice.

“When my time to go to the woods came, I discovered we weren’t simply thrown in the woods… No, we had to bear with our bare feet the red-hot soil under tender skin… Dehydrated… Starved… Ruined… I almost wished they could only burn me down at the stake. They didn’t. All of the survivors were marked for their lives… Not only here” She pointed out to her temples “But in a way that they could identify us in the future…” She raised her feet.

“They said the ones who survived were witches and the ones who didn’t weren’t… So we couldn’t have any winners. It didn’t matter if you survived or not. It didn’t matter if we were witches or not. All of us somehow deserved to be dead…” She looked at you filled with sadness and regret before she averted her eyes, ashamed “They even poisoned the river… They knew the first thing we would do was to look for water, drink to relieve the dryness of our soul and body… And so did tons of us… Especially the younger or the least experienced ones… The exhausted souls that couldn’t think of purifying the water anymore… Who couldn’t handle it” She sighed, lowering her head “All dead”

It wasn’t out of vanity that The Coven enchanted the river.

The first thing they thought you at the age of fourteen was how to purify water so it would be safe to drink from the river; so you wouldn’t be killed by the cruelness that flowed through its waters if they ever did it again. The enchantments and spells threw all around the place were the only way to protect all of you from them… The only way you could afford to have somewhere to survive. The only way that you could be yourselves.

If it meant the death of some meddling humans… Let it be.

They killed you enough for regret to wash over your souls.

The River now was a symbol of your rebellion, of your power and urges to live… It was also the symbol of all the deceased witches you had because of their cruelties. It was the blood that ran through your veins. It was the magic that imbued your souls and body.

The magic that ran through the body of this unaware guy struggling right in front of your eyes… The magic you couldn’t undo even if you wanted to…. He was a lost cause. You turned your back to him, ready to go back to your hunting and leave him behind, but one broken sentence was enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“I don’t want to die all alone…” He cried, holding his throat tightly in despair.

Never turn your back on her…

You sighed before approaching him, sitting right beside him before taking his hand into yours. He shot his eyes at you, startled at the sudden presence, and you made your best to throw him a gentle smile even though you could see his face slowly swelling up as he suffocated right in front of your eyes.

“The river is flowing… Flowing and growing… The river is flowing down to the sea…” You chanted, caressing his hair gently “Mother, carry him… Your child He’ll always be… Mother, carry him… Down to the sea…” You wiped his sweat, opening your canteen to give him some water to placate his thirst, wetting your hand before carefully rubbing your palms over his face.

You could feel how the woods sang along with you, the soft rustles of the leaves following your tune, and birds tweeting to the rhythm. You felt your heart swelling, connecting to your surroundings once again, and even his heartbeat seemed to sing along with Nature for a split of a second.

The attuned orchestra was interrupted by his muttering ─ soft voice under his breath─, something impossible to comprehend that made you nod anyway. You kept your smile firm on your lips to reassure him in his last moments, hoping that Nature could have some mercy on him. He tried to hum along with you ─ like he was tempted to pray before his end but could only follow your lead ─, and even though his rattling lungs couldn’t keep up with your chant, you slowed down a bit, getting a single grateful tear from his eyes.

The emotional moment was broken by his strangled gasps ─a desperate attempt to breathe normally─, and you made sure to avert your eyes to look straight ahead. You shouldn’t witness his moment of weakness like this. You squeezed his hand to reassure him, to remind him that he wouldn’t die by himself, and as soon as he squeezed back ─ as strong as he could, trying to get your attention─, you obliged yourself to return your gaze to him.

“K-Kim Seungmin” He struggled to say, sharp intakes of breath hinting he wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’ll let your family know” You lied, bringing his head to your lap so he could feel more comfortable, allowing a little bit of air to get to his lungs. He tried to nod, and you averted your eyes again, looking into the woods to distract yourself.

And distracted you got.

The scene that met your eyes was, to say the least, amusing; your Grandma strode in your way, staff floundering in the air as she approached the guy in a rush. She took a look at him, musing before shoving some herbs inside his mouth out of nowhere, gripping his jaw in a way to force him to munch it.

You looked at her startled but utterly ignored as she snapped her fingers over and over again.

“Come on, young man” She said in her best elder lady voice you had ever heard “Gulp it down so you won’t die” She instructed, snapping her fingers to get his attention. Except it wasn’t the case. You could almost feel the frisson around his body as she kept snapping it over and over again, drawing circles in the air. The heavy layer of magic covered him like a blanket.

He gulped down before you heard a sharp intake of breath ─ one that signalized he could really breathe right now─ and he gasped, again and again, feeling the air burn his lungs as he coughed for dear life. His torso snapped up, hand meeting his throat as he tried to recompose himself, practically back from the dead, eyes roaming around the place.

The purple that once painted his face dissolved into a more healthy color and flushed cheeks. You took a better look at his face, warm brown hair hiding his forehead and dark eyes that were big as saucers for the moment, completely taken aback by his luck. He had just survived. He opened his mouth a couple of times, and you couldn’t help but notice how red his lips were right now, and also exceptionally well-shaped.

“Don’t talk right now” She advised, taking the canteen from your hand “Drink this… You must be thirsty” She said kindly, adjusting the object so she could allow him to drink some of the water inside it. He took large gulps, eyes overflowing with relief before he had enough strength to raise his hand to the canteen and stop her motions.

“I don’t know how to express my gratefulness for both of you” He said sincerely “I own you my life” He was quick to kneel, lowering his head in respect, one arm bending on his back and the other one rested on top of his knee. You extended your hand, ready to dismiss the unnecessary formality, but your Grandma seemed to think otherwise.

“You do” She agreed, standing up and supporting herself on her wood staff, like an elder. You almost scoffed at her antics but a single twist of her feet made you shut your mouth, the hard inaudible pang on your ass making you think twice before disrespecting her “Unfortunately, I may have to take some of it from you” She smiled apologetically.

She acted before you could even understand what she had just said.

The staff was raised to strike his stomach in a quick motion ─ so quick that he couldn’t help but hunch his back, hands over his stomach as he huffed in astonishment ─ before her hand covered his face to push his head to the ground, tipping him over.

“What strings are plucked beneath the mound? Awake the seeds to break the ground” She chanted, hand gripping his head firmly. You could see his right eye widen, peeking between her long fingers, mouth opening to scream for help. She jerked his head once, the sudden movement silenced him, and as you watched the scene with your mouth agape ─ utterly startled─, you noticed how his eyelashes fluttered close, hinting he was under a sleeping spell.

“Grandma, what are you doing?” You hissed, looking around the woods as if Nature herself would come to punish both of you.

She raised her other hand in a sharp movement, signalizing that you should keep quiet. You shut your mouth, pursing your lips to make sure not a sound would drop from you. It didn’t prevent you from stretching your neck, trying to get a better look at whatever was happening right in front of your eyes.

The scene before your eyes had your head tilting.

You never saw an enchantment like this.

You watched as strings of translucent energy oozed from his ears, slowly drenching the ground underneath his head in a spiral that seemed to fuzz the grass. The delicate flutters of her free hand seemed to hasten the energy flow, and soon enough she released his head, fluttering her fingers as if she was seasoning him. The mere thought of the unconscious boy being treated like a roasted chicken made you chuckle, and she shot you a glare to keep you quiet.

“No question asked… No answer found” She continued, and the energy coiled to the ground, knotting there before a small flower gradually sprouted, “Young man, now list to me…” She snapped her fingers, and all the fuzzing you felt around vanished. She caressed his head, thumbs running through his cheeks “It’s all a strange dream; don’t worry too much about this… It was really dangerous to fall asleep in the woods, wasn’t it? They should be worried about you by now…” She sighed, getting up and gesticulating for you to follow her.

You straightened up, prepared to obey without a question.

A sudden breeze made you shiver and you stared at the boy on the ground, musing for a second before taking Chan’s coat from your shoulders and covering him up. You threw a look over your shoulder to check up on him as you rushed to your Grandma, watching his asleep form snoring peacefully in the middle of the woods, resting next to a tree as if he was in a secure field. When you finally got on her tracks, you threw her a look, clearing your throat before voicing your thoughts.

“Shouldn’t we wake him up? He could be eaten by a wolf…” You pointed out but she kept her pace, waving her hand dismissively.

“He’s not our problem anymore” She shrugged, walking fast “Furthermore, it’s not the time for his death yet…” You narrowed your eyes at her, humming in wonder.

“Was that why you meddled?” You asked curiously, and she finally glanced at you over her shoulder, pursing her lips “I never thought you would save a human” You admitted.

“My mission is to respect Nature… If Nature herself wants this young man alive, I’m not the one to go against her wishes” She declared, intending to drop the subject. You hummed again, and before you could open your mouth, she cleared her throat “I thought it was clear that neither of you should approach a human until the age of eighteen” She stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m just a few months away…” You rolled your eyes before grinning “Also, I thought the first lesson of The Coven was to never turn our back to Nature… As you said, Nature herself didn’t want the young man to die” She scoffed, amused by your retort “Who am I to go against her wishes?” You chuckled, noticing how she shook her head in disbelief, though it was clear she found it funny.

“Don’t forget the other ones” She muttered seriously before snapping her fingers twice, probably releasing the poor boy from the sleeping spell.

////

I won’t lie to you all, I’m really excited about this SUHAHUSAHUSASHUAUS It’s the first time I’ll be writing any kind of fantasy stuff. I have the general plot in my mind and I may be dropping some hints to make some kind of spin off if people like it or if I feel like it in the future lol

I really hope you guys like it!

Any feedback is more than welcomed, especially vocabulary and stuff like this. Feel free to criticize me (just do this in a constructive way, please LOL)

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katierosefun · 4 years

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author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #thank you!!#caroline.....control your wips challenge #also i am so sorry this got sO long and SO OUT OF HAND #also....lol caroline stop writing so many longform fic challenge #i really love writing one-shots #i really really love writing one shots #but like also. also there's a part of me that's like 'im gonna hyperfixate on this au sO HARD'#thankfully tho i think those are all the longform wips #there's also that one time travel fix it longform fic i have in the back of my head....#but lol i still haven't outlined it yet

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orochimartyr · 6 years

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Rules: Answer all questions and tag 20 people idonthavefriends.jpg @ironicmaiden tagged me b/c she’s great. I see you fam.

Star Sign: The Serpent lol I’m keeping this.

Height: 5 ft 1. on tall days

Gender: Female

Birthday: April 7.

Relationship status: No thanks

Who is your crush: Raziel

Song that is Stuck in Your Head: The Outsider by A Perfect Circle

Last Movie: Malevolent, Netflix original spook flick. It was okay!

Last T.V Show: In the middle of The Haunting of Hill House. No spoilers.

Why You Create this Blog: To roleplay Orochimaru. Oh yes. I used to have rules, and threads, and tags. It was crazy. I would write a lot. I think I lost motivation among time.

What Do You Post/Reblog: Now I just reblog snakes and memes. Sometimes I draw things!

Last Thing You Googled: “chiaroscuro artists” I was trying to be witty but wanted to be sure I was spelling it correctly.

Favorite song lyric: That’s not a fair question. So many. I think a line from Roaring 20′s by Panic @ the Disco atm. “My tell-tale heart’s a hammer in my chest/ cut me a silk tie tourniquet.”

What Are You Wearing: Jeans, a light pink flannel shirt over a World of warcraft shirt (Undercity Gravediggers, as grim as it gets)

Dream Job: Maybe design monsters & stuff.

Currently reading: I haven’t read a book in years mang.

Top 3 Universes: The Legacy of Kain, Naruto, Pokemon

Last time I cried and why: Sunday b/c I was watching the Haunting of Hill house & got to Luke’s episode. Doesn’t help that my little brother’s name is Lucas.

A picture of me: Can’t I’m at work doing nothing. :/

Ideas of a perfect date: Olive Garden + a movie??

A fact about my life: I’m isolated in every sense of the word

What’s one thing you regret? Not knowing how to interact with people well and not wanting to. Not being able to shift blame for that from myself being a shit person to my handful of mental illnesses.

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: Chris Hemsworth probably.

Have you ever taken a picture naked? No

Have you ever had a crush? Nope

Have you ever been in a fist fight? Nope. If anyone had a problem with me they were either scared of me or let it go b/c I’m a wee girl

Have you ever snuck out of your house? Once I was super depressed & my parents were arguing so I crept out of the house at 11pm & went to taco bell. I was an adult tho so...

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? Nope

Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun? In college I skipped classes all the time b/c anxiety but every now and again I was like “Fuck this spanish class I’m going to the aquarium”

Have you ever been on a plane? Yes!

Have you ever kissed a picture? Probably. Probably some horrific monster I drew and gave a mundane name. Like Wadsworth.

Have you ever touched a snake? I AM SNAKE. My Texas rat snake Ramses and my corn snake Amenophis. Also have picked up wild ribbon snakes, a yellow rat snake, and a tiny ring neck snake! I love snakes.

Have you ever felt like dying? Bruh. This entire adult thing? In this economy? I want to die a lot.

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Yeah part of having a triple combo of anxiety/depression/ADHD with bonus ASD lightning round: doing things I tell myself not to is a daily struggle. “Run” “I have to work” “youre in trouble” “But-” “Now youre tired.”

Phobia: Responsibilities (same), expectations actually

Middle name: Lace

Are you a virgin? Yeah

What’s your sexual orientation? Asexual aromantic.

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs? Nope. If my family is drinking something I might take a sip but its largely gross.

Someone you miss: My big little brother

Favorite ice cream? Mint chocolate chip biiiiitch.

One insecurity: They all culminate in this guilt-amalgam of “I will never amount to anything or remember what it is to be happy” Boom. Heavy

What my last text message says: "Text if you need anything” to my mom. Driving her around more and more as her vision gets worse

Have you ever painted your room? No but I plaster the walls in posters and shit.

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? No thanks to kissing

Have you ever slept naked? Nah man. Crumbs in the bed. I’m cold

Have you ever been dumped? No that requires dating

Have you ever stole money from a friend? No!

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met? Probably. I drove my comic book club around in college a few times

Have you ever been arrested? Nope

Have you ever made out with a stranger? Nope

Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere? Chilled w dudes at the mall and aquarium.

Have you ever left your house without telling your parents? Only that time I went for midnight depression tacos

Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor? No. I just don’t like people like that. I don’t know why.

Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Hotel rooms are expensive. Convention rules man

Have you ever seen someone die? I don’t think so.

Favorite Harry Potter spell: Wingardium LeviOsa

Have you ever hated the way you look? Although I’m very negative about myself as a person I’ve always been small and cute and appreciated it. Like I’m depressed but I’m adorable about it.

Have you ever witnessed a crime? Probably

Have you ever pole danced? No. That sounds like exercise and patriarchy

Have you ever been lost? Maybe. I’m a bit oblivious of my surroundings

Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country? Yeah California>Colorado>California>North Carolina>Montana>South Carolina. Military familiy

I tag:anybody that wants to do it, I suppose.

#snaekmeem #personal

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jughead-jones-wuzhere · 7 years

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Author’s Note: A super long first installment to a multi-chaptered but possibly non-linear story. My first Riverdale work.

The House of the Rising Sun : The First Night

Click Click Click Click The sound echoed in rapid succession.

“What do I say to her, though?”

Mid-rhythm the clicking stopped. Sea green eyes shifted from the blue light of the laptop screen before them. The redhead’s face was dotted with light patterns burned into his retinae from staring at the screen for too long. Maybe these things wouldn’t make him blind, but maybe there was something to this “It’ll ruin your eyes” narrative parents all over the nation had adopted so many years ago.

“Jug?”

“You’re still here?” his voice was slightly hoarse.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He arched a brow and his fingers continued to dance over the keyboard. The snark dripped from his words: “The truth’s probably a good place to start.”

“I don’t mean what, I mean how.”

“You literally said ‘what.’” He enunciated, “And anyways the only ‘how’ is with your words.”

The jock sighed, pursing his lips. Despite his best efforts, Jughead met his eyes and shrugged. “Just tell her, Arch. It doesn’t have to be a poem for the ages… I’m sure Betty’ll appreciate any explanation you can offer her.”

“I just… don’t wanna hurt her.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

The look on his friend’s face instantly inspired regret. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” Archie sighed, “I can’t expect this to be… clean.”

“Interesting choice of words.” Jughead furrowed his brow, “Arch, if there’s anyone in this entire town who’ll try to keep things… clean, it’s Betty. She’s your best friend. She’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

Archie nodded, more to himself than anything else, the confidence building in his chest. Jughead leaned back in his booth.

“I’ll see you in school, Jug.” The jock pressed his lips together in what would have been a smile if he could muster the strength. His friend nodded, saluting the boy farewell. As the door shut behind him, the diner felt silent, save for the soft distant chords of some 50’s nostalgia track playing from the vintage jukebox at the other end of the diner.

Jughead folded his arms, staring blankly at the screen. His lip curled in and he bit down, eyes shifting from left to right over the words until they seemed to coalesce into one illiterate jumble of black text. With a sigh, the boy leaned his head back against the booth, closing his eyes.

The Moon belongs to everyone The best things in life are free…

The distant ambiance came into focus, the words of the record echoing against the diner walls. Whether he consciously willed it or not, his sneaker clad foot began to tap to the simple beat.

The flowers in spring And the robins that sing…

A half-sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. He opened his eyes. Staring down at the table.

The sunbeams that shine They’re yours they’re mine…

“It’s gettin’ late don’cha think?”

Jughead straightened in his seat, looking up to see the smiling labor-worn owner of the shop.

“Yeah, Pop. I should get going.”

“Don’t want you to be missin’ school on my account, now. Come on by tomorrow, I’ll give you a milkshake on the house.”

And love can come to everyone…

“You sure it’s not more of a frequent customer deal?” his lip curved in a gentle smirk.

And so it shall always be…

The man laughed, placing a warm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, Night Hawk.”

The best things in life are free…

**********

Jughead slung his backpack over one shoulder as the door swung shut behind him. Through the glass, the jukebox continued on to the next record, muffled by the glass.

If you said goodbye to me tonight There would still be music left to write…

The cool summer air blew through what short strands of his black curls hung loose from his beanie. With slow, heavy steps, the boy began his departure from the chock’lit shoppe.

What else could I do I’m so inspired by you…

The song, clear and loud, stopped him in his tracks. Perplexed, Jughead glanced around to the diner, no one but Pop Tate visible through the glass.

That hasn’t happened for the longest time…

The disembodied voice hummed to the muffled tune, pausing every now and then. He took another step forward, this time towards the street. The humming grew steadily louder.

Once I thought my innocence was gone Now I know that happiness goes on….

Louder still, the raven-haired boy walked slow and steady, cautious of revealing himself too soon.

That’s where you found me…

The voice- She, he assumed from the pitch- paused and sang quickly through the lyrics she’d fallen behind on.

When you put your arms around me…

Around the corner of the chock’lit shoppe, she stood, rocking back and forth on her heels to the tune of the song.

I haven’t been there for the longest time…

Her arms floated in the air in a sort of intoxicated dance. A cigarette burned between her fingers.

“Woah-oh-ohh-ohhh for the longest time” she sung into the empty street, stopping to take a puff of the cancer stick.

“I had second thoughts at the st—oh shit that’s not right.” She stopped rocking on her heels. Jughead scoffed, unable to entirely stifle his laugh. In an instant she turned around, her dark eyes making contact with his. She brought the cigarette to her lips. Inhaled. Squinted her eyes. Parted her lips, and exhaled.

“You here for the bus too?”

The boy glanced at the vacant street and shrugged, “I don’t think where you’re standing’s a bus stop…. And no.”

She scrutinized him, her gaze wandering from his shoes to the trademark beanie. The lack of conversation—along with her conspicuous image— prompted him to do the same. Her sneakers and distressed shirt screamed “out of town,” but it was her jacket – of the black leather variety—which indicated exactly where. Jughead took another step forward, tilting his head in hopes of catching a hint of the back of her jacket.

“You know, you don’t look right.”

Momentarily distracted, the raven-haired boy furrowed his brow. She smiled and laughed.

“No, no not like that. I just mean you don’t look like the rest of the people around here. Less… Pleasantville and more… Batman, I guess.”

“I look like Batman?” he arched a brow.

“Of course not,” she rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean. Like, Gotham and shit.”

“Yeah, well, every bell curve’s got an outlier.”

She shrugged and nodded, taking another hit of the cigarette. “That’s true. But in Gotham you’d be right there in the middle. What’s that called? The middle?”

“The normal distribution?”

“Yeah, that.” She grinned, “You’d be part of the normal distribution. Isn’t that funny?”

“I’m not entirely sure I follow.”

“Well it’s all about location, location, location. Have you ever thought about that? In Pleasantville you’re always gonna be the odd one out. But in a place like Gotham, where everyone’s the odd one out, you’re just another digit in the consensus.”

“So no one’s special, it’s just a matter of where you are.” He took another step forward. She leaned against the pole of a street lamp and watched him, cigarette burning in her fingers. Jughead pursed his lips. “That’s kind of Nihilistic, don’t you think?”

She knitted her brow, contemplating the question before shaking her head. She took another puff and blew the smoke out of her lungs as she responded, “No, I don’t think it is. It’s just the facts.”

“But what it does say,” she pushed herself off the street lamp, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the floor, “Is that you’re one smart son of a bitch.”

Her sneaker crushed the ashes into the cement. “You can stay in Pleasantville for the rest of your life, Batman, and you’re not gonna ever be part of the normal distribution.”

Jughead frowned. “How does that make me ‘smart’?”

Her smile stretched, but the wrinkles around her eyes seemed to disappear. “Well doesn’t that mean you’ll always be special?”

He didn’t respond. She pressed her lips together, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets as her shoe continued to grind the cigarette into the sidewalk. Jughead mirrored her posture, hiding his hands in his own denim jacket and watched her. Pop’s jukebox hummed quietly in the distance.

Wind me up, I really walk Wind me up, I really talk Wind me up and I’ll come straight to you

“It’s Peggy March.”

He turned to face her. She shrugged.

“You looked like you were listening to it. It’s Peggy March. “Wind up doll.””

When he didn’t say anything, she reached into her pocket, pulling out another cigarette and a pack of matches.

“How long does the bus take to get here usually?” he asked, looking around for any sign that the area was, in fact, a bus stop.

She removed the cigarette from her lips and shrugged, “Shouldn’t you know, Pleasantville? This is your neck of the woods.”

“Yeah?” he took another step forward. She was hardly an arm’s length away, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where’s your neck of the woods?”

“Not here.” She scoffed.

Jughead’s frown deepened. He turned to face the street, nose pinching at the smoke reaching his nostrils.

“You know there’s a murderer on the loose, right?”

She leaned her head against the street light post. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. It is.” He turned to look at her, catching the uninterested expression on her face. “You know anything about it?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, “It was me, Mr. Wayne. The mastermind behind it all.”

She flicked the ashes off her cigarette onto the street. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

“No.” his voice softened just slightly. He hadn’t noticed when the cutting tone entered his words. “I’ve just… never seen you here before.”

“So I’m a suspect, then?”

“That’s not the point.” He rolled his eyes. She took a puff of her cancer stick and stared at him silently. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked her way. She smiled, lips parted just slightly as if to say something when her eyes shifted to look behind him.

“Ah,” she tossed the half-finished cigarette.

“Don’t litter—“

“Looks like the bus is here.”

He turned around to catch the distant glow of two headlights.

“You wanna know where I’m from, Pleasantville?”

He turned back to face her, the smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. The bus engine roared like a motorcycle as is it sped towards them, growing louder and louder. She took a step closer. And another. And another. Her hands slid into her pockets and she spoke quietly, hardly a few inches from his face.

“I’m a Gotham native.” She breathed a laugh, “You should come visit sometime, Dark Knight. Maybe you’ll find it more pleasant than Pleasantville.”

The bus—a 1970 convertible Chevelle—screeched to a halt before the lamp post. A broad shouldered brunette sat at the wheel, his tattoo clad arm resting on the head rest of the passenger seat. Behind him sat two equally grungy, equally lean boys, and a small blonde in a dress.

“Hey love,” the driver said, leaning forward as if to see through a window that wasn’t there, “Ready?”

Jughead scrutinized the boy, who returned the favor. Although his demeanor gave off the impression of a real hard ass, his expression felt somehow somber.

“Well,” the girl sighed, “I’ll see you around, Batman.”

And without waiting for a response, she hopped over the door and into the passenger seat, where the tattooed brunette kissed her on the cheek. His hand came down from the seat to switch gears as he mumbled, not quietly enough, “Who’s he?”

“Oh, him?”

She turned to spare one last glance at the beanie headed boy, a wide smile lifting her lips. “He’s here to save us all. Isn’t that right?”

Before he could open his mouth, the car sped off, turning sharply around the corner and disappearing out of sight. Jughead stood under the street light and watched until the hum of the engine faded into the distance. He then turned on his heel, and headed back the way he came, stepping over the half-finished cigarette on the sidewalk as the jukebox sung faintly over the wind.

Unforgettable… That’s what you are…

#the house of the rising sun #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #jughead #jughead jones #jughead fanfiction #jughead scenario #jughead imagine #jughead x reader #jugheadxreader #riverdale fanfiction #jughead jones the third #cole sprouse

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megers67 · 7 years

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The ULTIMATE Queen Prompt Pack

This may differ from normal prompt packs so I’ll explain how this will work. I’ll give the first entry above the Keep Reading line as an example. I’ll put the rest under so I can update as needed and so the post isn’t too long on the dash. They’re also in no particular order.

Entries will include a link to the official Queen music video (if not, then a youtube video with the music), a link to the lyrics on Genius (because the notes give cool insight that might help), and 3-5 lines to use as a quick prompt if you’d like (and will not simply be the title out of redundancy). The lyrics I choose will be based on what would give variety to those who choose to not follow the links rather than anything else. Take note that some songs are harder than others to find isolated lines that can function as a prompt on their own. I’m just doing my best!

Inspiration can be taken from the lyrics, the music, mood of the song, story of the song, music video, Freddy’s costumes, notes from Genius or pretty much anything. Let the inspiration come to you.

If you want, followers can send in specific songs (or lyrics) for you to use as starters for an RP or any other kind of prompt. Or you can just choose a song you want. Up to you.

1. Bohemian Rhapsody

Music

Lyrics

I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy.

Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

2. Somebody to Love

Music

Lyrics

Each morning I get up I die a little.

I have spent all my years in believing you.

But everybody wants to put me down. They say I’m going crazy.

3. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Music

Lyrics

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things.

I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of lover boys.

Just take me back to yours that will be fine.

4. Tie Your Mother Down

Music

Lyrics

There’s no way I’m going to lose out this time.

I don’t need him nosing around.

In fact, I don’t think I ever heard a single little civil word from those guys.

5. Play the Game

Music

Lyrics

It’s so easy, all you have to do is fall in love.

Light another cigarette and let yourself go.

My game of love has just begun.

6. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Music

Lyrics

It cries (like a baby) in a cradle all night.

It shakes all over like a jellyfish.

[She] gives me a hot and cold fever.

7. Save Me

Music

Lyrics

The years belie, we lived a lie.

I am naked and I am far from home.

Was it all wasted? All that love?

8. Under Pressure

Music

Lyrics

These are the days it never rains but it pours.

Why can’t we give love?

Because love’s such an old-fashioned word.

This is our last dance.

9. Headlong

Music

Lyrics

And you’re rushing headlong out of control.

Let me out of this cheap B movie.

It ain’t no time to figure wrong from right.

10. The Show Must Go On

Music

Lyrics

Another hero, another mindless crime.

Does anybody want to take it anymore?

Whatever happens, I’ll leave it all to chance.

I’ll soon be turning round the corner now.

I’ll face it with a grin. I’m never giving in.

11. Fat Bottomed Girls

Music

Lyrics

Are you gonna let it all hang out?

I was just a skinny lad.

I seen every blue-eyed floozy on the way.

12. Bicycle Race

Music

Lyrics

I want to ride my bicycle.

Hey man, Jaws was never my scene and I don’t like Star Wars.

I don’t wanna be the President of America.

13. Don’t Stop Me Now

Music

Lyrics

Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time.

That’s why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit.

I’m a sex machine ready to reload.

14. One Vision (Extended Version)

Music

Lyrics

I’m gonna tell you there’s no black and no white.

Look what they’ve done to my dreams.

Just gimme gimme gimme gimme fried chicken.

15. Friends Will Be Friends

Music

Lyrics

It’s not easy, love, but you’ve got friends you can trust.

The other half ran away.

You’re getting used to life without him in your way.

16. Who Wants to Live Forever

Music

Lyrics

There’s no time for us. There’s no place for us.

There’s no chance for us.

Touch my world with your fingertips.

17. Princes of the Universe

Music

Lyrics

I am immortal, I have inside me blood of kings.

I have no rival, no man can be my equal.

I’m here for your love and I’ll make my stand.

My power is in my own hand.

I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day.

18. Love of My Life

Music

Lyrics

You’ve stolen my heart, you now desert me.

Bring it back. Don’t take it away from me.

When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you how I still love you.

19. Too Much Love Will Kill You

Music

Lyrics

I’ve been facing this alone for much too long.

I feel like no one ever told the truth to me.

You’re headed for disaster.

You’re the victim of your crime.

It’ll make your life a lie.

20. I Want it All

Music

Lyrics

Got to find me a future. Move outta my way.

Just give me what I know is mine.

Here’s to the future for the dreams of youth.

21. Breakthru

Music

Lyrics

You’re starting something deep inside me.

If I could only reach you….

I break up with each and every one of your looks at me.

22. We Will Rock You

Music

Lyrics

You got mud on your face, you big disgrace!

You’re […] shouting in the street, gonnna take on the world someday.

Somebody better put you back into your place!

23. We Are the Champions

Music

Lyrics

I’ve done my sentence, but committed no crime.

I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I’ve come through.

I consider it a challenge before the whole human race.

24. Spread Your Wings

Music

Lyrics

Boy you’d better begin to get those crazy notions right out of your head.

That’s because you’re a free man.

You’ve got no real ambition, you won’t get very far.

25. I’m in Love with My Car

Music

Lyrics

All I hear is your gear.

So she made tracks saying this is the end now.

Cars don’t talk back.

26. You’re My Best Friend

Music

Lyrics

You’re my sunshine and I want you to know that my feelings are true.

I’m happy at home.

Whenever this world is cruel to me, I’ve got you to help me forgive.

27. The Prophet’s Song

Music

Lyrics

Beware the storm that gathers here.

Quicken to the new life, take my hand.

Late too late all the wretches run.

Who heed me not let all your treasure make you.

28. Killer Queen

Music

Lyrics

At anytime an invitation you can’t decline.

Guaranteed to blow your mind.

She’s all out to get you.

29. Now I’m Here

Music

Lyrics

And the people all stared, didn’t understand.

Whatever came of you and me

I love to leave my memory with you.

30. Stone Cold Crazy

Music

Lyrics

I’m smelling like a dry fish bone.

Got to get away from this stone cold floor.

Here come the deputy, he’s going to come and get to me.

31. Keep Yourself Alive

Music

Lyrics

It’ll take all your time and money.

Well I’ve loved a million women in a belladonic haze.

And I’ll grow a little bigger. Maybe that can be my goal.

32. White Queen (As it Began)

Music

Lyrics

Stars of lovingness in her hair.

My goddess hear my darkest fear.

So sad it ends as it began.

33. March of the Black Queen [TRIGGER WARNING: N WORD MENTION]

Music

Lyrics

Like going up to heaven then coming back alive.

Everything you do bears a will and a why and a wherefore.

I reign with my left hand, I rule with my right.

My life is in your hands, I’ll fo and I’ll fie.

To hell with all of you hand-in-hand.

34. Seven Seas of Rhye

Music

Lyrics

I descend upon your earth from the skies.

I stand before you naked to the eyes.

By flash and thunder-fire I’ll survive.

Then I’ll defy the laws of nature and come out alive.

35. Radio Gaga

Music

Lyrics

So don’t become some background noise.

You’ve had your time, you had the power.

So stick around, cause we might miss you.

36. It’s a Hard Life

Music

Lyrics

You win - you lose. It’s a chance you have to take with love.

They say it’s just a state of mind, but it can happen to anyone.

I’ll look back on myself and say I did it for love.

37. I Want to Break Free

Music

Lyrics

You’re so self satisfied, I don’t need you.

And this time I know it’s for real.

But I have to be sure when I walk out that door.

38. Hammer to Fall

Music

Lyrics

Lady Mercy won’t be home tonight.

Don’t hear the bell but you answer the call.

Convinced out voices can’t be heard, we just want to scream it louder and louder.

39. ‘39

Music

Lyrics

Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away?

Write your letters in the sand for the day I take your hand.

Your mother’s eyes from your eyes cry to me.

All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand.

40. Death on Two Legs (Dedicated To…) [TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE MENTION]

Music

Lyrics

You never had a heart of your own.

Have you found a new toy to replace me?

Put your money where your mouth is Mr. Know-All.

Was the fin on your back part of the deal? (Shark!)

You’re a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride.

41. Flick of the Wrist

Music

Lyrics

Intoxicate your brain with what I’m saying.

If not you’ll lie in knee-deep trouble.

Seduce you with his money-make machine.

42. A Kind of Magic

Music

Lyrics

No mortal man can win this day.

The waiting seems an eternity.

I’m hearing secret harmonies.

43. I Was Born to Love You

Music

Lyrics

I was born to love you with every single beat of my heart.

If I was given every opportunity, I’d kill for your love.

I’m caught in a dream and my dream’s come true.

44. Las Palabras de Amor (The Words of Love)

Music

Lyrics

Let me hear the words of love.

And all for fear, and all for greed.

But while we live, we’ll meet again.

45. Innuendo

Music

Lyrics

Don’t take offence at my innuendo.

Just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be.

Yes we’ll keep on trying. Tread that fine line.

46. Heaven for Everyone

Music

Lyrics

You come to me and everything seems alright.

This world could be free, this world could be one.

Just your smile could smooth my ride.

47. Flash

Music

Lyrics

He’ll save every one of us.

King of the Impossible

Just a man with a man’s courage

48. I’m Going Slightly Mad

Music

Lyrics

Are they trying to tell you something?

It finally happened.

To be honest you haven’t got a clue.

49. These are the Days of Our Lives

Music

Lyrics

When we were kids, when we were young, things seemed so perfect.

You can’t turn back the clock. You can’t turn back the tide. Ain’t that a shame

No use in sitting and thinking on what you did.

50. The Miracle

Music

Lyrics

The wonders of this world go on.

The one thing that we’re all waiting for is peace on Earth - an end to war.

The time will come one day you’ll see when we can all be friends.

#starter prompt #prompt #prompt pack #starter pack #ask meme #queen

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londontheatre · 7 years

Link

Tickets go on sale for Rufus Norris’ Macbeth, with Rory Kinnear and Anne-Marie Duff, part of the Travelex Season with thousands of tickets available at £15

Cast announced for world premiere of The Great Wave, a co-production with the Tricycle Theatre, directed by Indhu Rubasingham

Full cast announced for UK premiere of Annie Baker’s John, directed by James Macdonald

30 years after the play’s rediscovery, Absolute Hell returns to the National in a new production directed by Joe Hill-Gibbins

Further cast announced for the revival of Amadeus

Tickets on sale for Justin Audibert’s new production of The Winter’s Tale for primary schools

National Theatre Jan 2015 – photo by Philip Vile

Olivier Theatre MACBETH by William Shakespeare Previews from 26 February, press night 6 March, on sale until 12 May with further performances to be announced The ruined aftermath of a bloody civil war. Ruthlessly fighting to survive, the Macbeths are propelled towards the crown by forces of elemental darkness. Shakespeare’s most intense and terrifying tragedy is directed by Rufus Norris 25 years after his last Shakespeare production. Rory Kinnear and Anne-Marie Duff play Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. Set design by Rae Smith, costume design by Moritz Junge, lighting design by James Farncombe and sound design by Paul Arditti. Hundreds of Travelex tickets available for every performance at £15. Broadcast live as part of NT Live to cinemas worldwide on 10 May.

Lyttelton Theatre ABSOLUTE HELL by Rodney Ackland Previews from 18 April, press night 25 April, on sale until 23 May with further performances to be announced Bomb-blasted London. A Soho den in the hangover from World War II, where members drink into the darkness, night after night. Lying, fighting and seducing, these lost souls and bruised lovers struggle from the rubble of war towards an unknown future. Rodney Ackland’s extraordinarily provocative play was condemned as ‘a libel on the British people’ when first performed in 1952. Now it emerges as an intoxicating plunge into post-war Soho; full of despair and longing. Joe Hill-Gibbins returns to the NT to direct a large ensemble in this new production. Set design by Lizzie Clachan, with costumes designed by Nicky Gillibrand, lighting by Jon Clark, movement by Jenny Ogilvie, sound by Paul Arditti and the music director is Harvey Brough.

Dorfman Theatre JOHN by Annie Baker Previews from 17 January, press night 24 January in repertoire until 3 March The week after Thanksgiving. A bed and breakfast in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. A cheerful host welcomes a young couple struggling to salvage their relationship, while thousands of inanimate objects look on. An uncanny new play by Annie Baker, whose Pulitzer Prize-winning The Flick had a sold-out run at the National in 2016. James Macdonald directs the European premiere. Full cast includes Marylouise Burke, Tom Mothersdale, Anneika Rose and June Watson. Design by Chloe Lamford, lighting design by Peter Mumford and sound design by Christopher Shutt. Marylouise Burke is appearing with the support of UK Equity, incorporating the Variety Artistes’ Federation, pursuant to an exchange programme between American Equity and UK Equity. New American Work programme supported by The Harold & Mimi Steinberg Charitable Trust, Lawton W Fitt & James I McLaren Foundation, Kathleen J Yoh and Time Warner Foundation, Inc.

THE GREAT WAVE a new play by Francis Turnly a co-production with the Tricycle Theatre Previews from 10 March, press night 19 March, playing until 14 April On a Japanese beach, teenage sisters Hanako and Reiko are caught up in a storm. Reiko survives while Hanako is lost to the sea. Their mother, however, can’t shake the feeling that her missing daughter is still alive, and soon family tragedy takes on a global political dimension. Set in Japan and North Korea, Francis Turnly’s epic new thriller is directed by Artistic Director of the Tricycle Theatre Indhu Rubasingham in a co-production with the Tricycle Theatre. Cast includes Kae Alexander, Rosalind Chao, Tuyen Do, Vincent Lai, Kwong Loke, Frances Mayli McCann, Kirsty Rider, Leo Wan and David Yip. Design by Tom Piper, video design by Luke Halls, lighting design by Oliver Fenwick, music by David Shrubsole, sound design by Alex Caplen, movement direction by Polly Bennett and fight direction by Kev McCurdy. Rosalind Chao is appearing with the support of UK Equity, incorporating the Variety Artistes’ Federation, pursuant to an exchange programme between American Equity and UK Equity.

NINE NIGHT a new play by Natasha Gordon Previews from 21 April, press night 30 April, playing until 25 May Gloria is gravely sick. When her time comes, the celebration begins; the traditional Jamaican Nine Night Wake. But for Gloria’s children and grandchildren, marking her death with a party that lasts over a week is a test. Nine nights of music, food, sharing stories – and an endless parade of mourners. Natasha Gordon’s debut play Nine Night is a touching and very funny exploration of the rituals of family. Roy Alexander Weise directs a cast including Franc Ashman, Oliver Alvin-Wilson, Rebekah Murrell and Cecilia Noble, with further casting to be announced. Design by Rajha Shakiry. Unallocated seating now available, more tickets released in January. New productions on sale to public from 21 November Updates on productions currently on sale Olivier theatre

FOLLIES, book by James Goldman, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim In the repertoire until 3 January 2018 New York, 1971. There’s a party on the stage of the Weismann Theatre. Tomorrow the iconic building will be demolished. Thirty years after their final performance, the Follies girls gather to have a few drinks, sing a few songs and lie about themselves. Including such classic songs as ‘Broadway Baby’, ‘I’m Still Here’ and ‘Losing My Mind’, Stephen Sondheim’s legendary musical is staged for the first time at the NT. Tracie Bennett, Janie Dee and Imelda Staunton play the magnificent Follies in this dazzling new production. Featuring a cast of 37 and an orchestra of 21, the production is directed by Dominic Cooke (Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom).

The cast includes Julie Armstrong, Norma Atallah, Josephine Barstow, Jeremy Batt, Tracie Bennett, Di Botcher, Billy Boyle, Janie Dee, Anouska Eaton, Liz Ewing, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Peter Forbes, Emily Goodenough, Bruce Graham, Adrian Grove, Fred Haig, Aimee Hodnett, Dawn Hope, Liz Izen, Alison Langer, Emily Langham, Sarah-Marie Maxwell, Ian McLarnon, Leisha Mollyneaux, Gemma Page, Kate Parr, Philip Quast, Edwin Ray, Gary Raymond, Adam Rhys-Charles, Jordan Shaw, Imelda Staunton, Zizi Strallen, Barnaby Thompson, Christine Tucker, Michael Vinsen and Alex Young.

Design by Vicki Mortimer, choreography by Bill Deamer, music supervision by Nicholas Skilbeck, orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick, additional orchestrations by Josh Clayton, music director Nigel Lilley, lighting design by Paule Constable and sound design by Paul Groothuis. Follies is sold out but tickets are available via Friday Rush, Day Tickets and possible returns. Follies is supported by Swarovski and by the Follies production syndicate. Broadcast Live to cinemas worldwide on 16 November.

SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON a new play by Rory Mullarkey In the repertoire until 2 December A village. A dragon. A damsel in distress. Into the story walks George: wandering knight, freedom fighter, enemy of tyrants the world over. One epic battle later and a nation is born. As the village grows into a town, and the town into a city, the myth of Saint George, which once brought a people together, threatens to divide them. John Heffernan plays Saint George with Julian Bleach as the Dragon. The cast also includes Suzanne Ahmet, Jason Barnett, Luke Brady, Paul Brennen, Joe Caffrey, Paul Cawley, Richard Goulding, Gawn Grainger, Tamzin Griffin, Ravel Guzman, Stephanie Jacob, Lewin Lloyd, Olwen May, Victoria Moseley, Conor Neaves, Amaka Okafor, Sharita Oomeer, Jeff Rawle, Kirsty Rider and Grace Saif.

Rory Mullarkey creates a new folk tale for an uneasy nation. Directed by Lyndsey Turner (Chimerica, Light Shining in Buckinghamshire), with design by Rae Smith, choreography by Lynne Page, lighting design by Bruno Poet, music by Grant Olding, sound design by Christopher Shutt, projection design by Betsy Dadd and fight direction by Bret Yount. Hundreds of Travelex tickets at £15 available per performance. This play is a recipient of an Edgerton Foundation New Plays Award.

AMADEUS by Peter Shaffer Previews from 11 January, press night 18 January, playing until 24 April Following a sell-out run last year, Amadeus returns to the Olivier in 2018. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a rowdy young prodigy, arrives in Vienna determined to make a splash. Awestruck by his genius, court composer Antonio Salieri has the power to promote his talent or destroy it. Seized by obsessive jealousy he begins a war with Mozart, with music and, ultimately, with God. Michael Longhurst’s acclaimed production of Peter Shaffer’s iconic play features live orchestral accompaniment by Southbank Sinfonia. Adam Gillen and Lucian Msamati reprise the roles of Mozart and Salieri. Cast also includes Sarah Amankwah, Fleur de Bray, Wendy Dawn Thompson, Nicholas Gerard-Martin, Christopher Godwin, Matthew Hargreaves, Adelle Leonce, Michael Lyle, Andrew Macbean, Alexandra Mathie, Eamonn Mulhall, Ekow Quartey, Hugh Sachs, Matthew Spencer, Everal A Walsh and Peter Willcock. Amadeus is directed by Michael Longhurst with design by Chloe Lamford, music direction and additional music by Simon Slater, choreography by Imogen Knight, lighting design by Jon Clark and sound design by Paul Arditti. Amadeus is produced in association with Southbank Sinfonia, and supported by the Amadeus production syndicate.

Lyttelton NETWORK, adapted by Lee Hall, based on the Paddy Chayefsky film Previews from 4 November, press night 13 November, continuing in the repertoire until 24 March Howard Beale, news anchor-man, isn’t pulling in the viewers. In his final broadcast he unravels live on screen. But when the ratings soar, the network seizes on their new found populist prophet, and Howard becomes the biggest thing on TV. Network depicts a dystopian media landscape where opinion trumps fact. Hilarious and horrifying by turns, the iconic film by Paddy Chayefsky won four Academy Awards in 1976. Now, Lee Hall (Billy Elliot, Our Ladies of Perpetual Succour) and director Ivo van Hove (Hedda Gabler) bring Chayefsky’s masterwork to the stage for the first time, with Bryan Cranston (All the Way, for which he won the Tony for Best Actor, Breaking Bad and Trumbo for which he was nominated for an Oscar) in the role of Howard Beale.

The cast also includes Charles Babalola, Tobi Bamtefa, Ed Begley, Alex Bonney, Tom Challenger, Richard Cordery, Isabel Della-Porta, Michelle Dockery, Kit Downes, Ian Drysdale, Michael Elwyn, Caroline Faber, Robert Gilbert, Pete Harden, Douglas Henshall, Tom Hodgkins, Tunji Kasim, Andrew Lewis, Beverley Longhurst, Evan Milton, Stuart Nunn, Rebecca Omogbehin, Patrick Poletti, Danny Szam, Paksie Vernon and Matthew Wright. Set and lighting design by Jan Versweyveld, video design by Tal Yarden, costume design by An D’Huys, music and sound by Eric Sleichim and creative associate Krystian Lada.

A very limited number of additional on-stage seats are now available for Foodwork – an immersive on-stage dining experience.

Network is produced in association with Patrick Myles, David Luff, Ros Povey and Lee Menzies. Production supported by Marcia Grand in memory of Richard Grand and by Kors Le Pere Theatricals LLC

PINOCCHIO by Dennis Kelly, adapted by Martin Lowe With songs and score from the Walt Disney film by Leigh Harline, Ned Washington and Paul J Smith Previews from 1 December, press night 13 December, on sale until 7 April On a quest to be truly alive, Pinocchio leaves Geppetto’s workshop with Jiminy Cricket in tow. Their electrifying adventure takes them from alpine forests to Pleasure Island to the bottom of the ocean. This spectacular new production brings together the director of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and the writer of Matilda the Musical.

For the first time on stage, featuring unforgettable music and songs from the Walt Disney film including ‘I’ve Got No Strings’, ‘Give a Little Whistle’ and ‘When You Wish upon a Star’ in dazzling new arrangements, Pinocchio comes to life as never before.

Cast includes Joe Idris-Roberts (Pinocchio), Audrey Brisson (Jiminy Cricket), Annette McLaughlin (Blue Lady), Mark Hadfield (Gepetto), David Langham (The Fox), David Kirkbride (Coachman), Dawn Sievewright (Lampy), Gershwyn Eustache Jnr (Stromboli), together with Stuart Angell, Trieve Blackwood-Cambridge, Stephanie Bron, James Charlton, Rebecca Jayne-Davies, Sarah Kameela Impey, Anabel Kutay, Michael Lin, Jack North, Clemmie Sveaas, Michael Taibi, Scarlet Wilderink and Jack Wolfe.

John Tiffany directs Pinocchio by Dennis Kelly, with songs and score from the Walt Disney film by Leigh Harline, Ned Washington and Paul J Smith newly adapted by Martin Lowe. Design and puppet co-design by Bob Crowley, lighting design by Paule Constable, music supervision and orchestrations by Martin Lowe, music direction by Tom Brady, movement direction by Steven Hoggett, puppetry and puppet co-design by Toby Olié, sound design by Simon Baker and illusions by Jamie Harrison.

Half-price tickets for under-18s are available for all performances (excluding £15 tickets). There will be a relaxed performance of Pinocchio on 17 March at 1.30pm Presented by special arrangement with Disney Theatrical Productions. Sponsored by American Express.

Dorfman Theatre BEGINNING a new play by David Eldridge Playing until 14 November It’s the early hours of the morning and Danny’s the last straggler at Laura’s party. The flat’s in a mess. And so are they. One more drink? Polly Findlay directs this new play by David Eldridge (Market Boy, Under the Blue Sky, In Basildon). Tender and funny, it’s an intimate look at the first fragile moments of risking your heart and taking a chance. Justine Mitchell plays Laura, Sam Troughton plays Danny. Design by Fly Davis, lighting design by Jack Knowles, sound design by Paul Arditti and movement direction by Naomi Said.

BARBER SHOP CHRONICLES by Inua Ellams a co-production with Fuel and West Yorkshire Playhouse Previews from 20 November, playing until the 9 January Following critically acclaimed seasons at the National Theatre and West Yorkshire Playhouse, Barber Shop Chronicles returns to the National Theatre this November.

Inua Ellams’ dynamic new play leaps from a barber shop in Peckham to Johannesburg, Harare, Kampala, Lagos and Accra. Newsroom, political platform, local hot spot, confession box, preacher-pulpit and football stadium. For generations, African men have gathered in barber shops to discuss the world. These are places where the banter can be barbed and the truth is always telling.

The cast includes Fisayo Akinade, Hammed Animashaun, Peter Bankolé, Maynard Eziashi, Simon Manyonda, Patrice Naiambana, Cyril Nri, Kwami Odoom, Sule Rimi, Abdul Salis, David Webber, and Anthony Welsh all returning to reprise their roles.

Directed by Bijan Sheibani, with design by Rae Smith, lighting design by Jack Knowles, movement direction by Aline David sound design by Gareth Fry, music direction by Michael Henry and fight direction by Kev McCurdy. Barber Shop Chronicles is a co-production with Fuel and West Yorkshire Playhouse. Barber Shop Chronicles is co-commissioned by Fuel and the National Theatre. Development funded by Arts Council England with the support of Fuel, National Theatre, West Yorkshire Playhouse, The Binks Trust, British Council ZA, Òran Mór and A Play, a Pie and a Pint.

At the Young Vic THE JUNGLE by Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson a Young Vic and National Theatre co-production with Good Chance Theatre, commissioned by the National Theatre Previews from 7 December, press night 15 December playing until 6 January 2018 This is the place people suffered and dreamed. Okot wants nothing more than to get to the UK. Beth, wants nothing more than to help him. Meet the hopeful, resilient residents of ‘The Jungle’ – just across the Channel, right on our doorstep. Join refugees and volunteers from around the world over fresh-baked naan and sweet milky chai at the Afghan Café.

From Good Chance Theatre, a new play where worlds collide. In the worst places, you meet the best people. The Jungle by Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson of Good Chance Theatre tells stories of loss, fear, community and hope. Europe’s largest unofficial refugee camp, the Calais ‘Jungle’ became a temporary home for more than 10,000 people at its peak – many desperate to find a way to enter the UK.

Commissioned by the NT in a co-production with the Young Vic The Jungle is directed by Stephen Daldry and Justin Martin, set design by Miriam Buether, costume design by Catherine Kodicek, sound design by Paul Arditti and lighting by Jon Clark. Opening at the Young Vic in December, cast to be announced. Generously supported by Glenn and Phyllida Earle, Clive and Sally Sherling, and The Aziz Foundation Shakespeare for younger audiences

The Winter’s Tale by William Shakespeare a new version for young audiences by Justin Audibert and the company Opening 14 February 2018 Justin Audibert directs a new production of The Winter’s Tale for primary schools and families, opening in the Dorfman theatre in February 2018 and touring to primary schools across London accompanied by a creative learning programme. This exciting new version of the play, adapted by Justin and the company, is the perfect introduction to Shakespeare for younger audiences, designed by Lucy Sierra with music by Jonathan Girling. Family workshops are available in February half-term. Supported by The Ingram Trust, Archie Sherman Charitable Trust, Behrens Foundation, Jill and David Leuw, St Olave’s Foundation Fund The National Theatre’s Partner for Learning is Bank of America Merrill Lynch.

In the West End OSLO a new play by J. T. Rogers The Lincoln Center Theatre Production at the Harold Pinter Theatre Direct from a multi-award-winning season on Broadway and a critically acclaimed, sold-out run at the National Theatre, Bartlett Sher’s production of J.T. Rogers’ gripping political thriller Oslo in now playing at the Harold Pinter Theatre until 30 December 2017.

Oslo tells the true story of how two maverick Norwegian diplomats Terje Rød-Larsen, (Toby Stephens – Black Sails, Private Lives) and Mona Juul, (Lydia Leonard – Wolf Hall, Life in Squares) planned and orchestrated top-secret, high-level meetings between the State of Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organisation, which culminated in the signing of the historic 1993 Oslo Accords. OsloThePlay.com In association with Ambassador Theatre Group / Gavin Kalin Productions / Glass Half Full Productions. The National Theatre on tour The NT will tour to 40 venues in 36 towns and cities across the UK, for a total of 115 playing weeks, until March 2019

WAR HORSE based on the novel by Michael Morpurgo, adapted by Nick Stafford, in association with the award-winning Handspring Puppet Company. The unforgettable theatrical event based on Michael Morpurgo’s beloved novel is now on a 10th anniversary UK tour. Nick Stafford’s adaptation of this remarkable story of courage, loyalty and friendship features ground-breaking puppetry by South Africa’s Handspring Puppet Company, which brings breathing, galloping horses to life on stage. War Horse is directed by Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris, designed by Rae Smith, with puppet direction, design and fabrication by Basil Jones and Adrian Kohler for Handspring Puppet Company, lighting by Paule Constable, movement and horse choreography by Toby Sedgwick, video design by Leo Warner and Mark Grimmer for 59 Productions, songmaker John Tams, music by Adrian Sutton and sound by Christopher Shutt. Katie Henry is the revival director and Craig Leo is the associate puppetry director. The resident puppetry director is Matthew Forbes and resident director, Charlotte Peters.

For tour venues and dates, visit warhorseonstage.co.uk. War Horse in Salford and Sunderland is supported by The Garfield Weston Foundation.

HEDDA GABLER by Henrik Ibsen, in a new version by Patrick Marber Following a sold-out run at the National Theatre earlier this year, Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, in a new version by Patrick Marber, directed by Ivo van Hove, is now touring the UK and Ireland visiting Leicester, Salford, Norwich, Hull, Aberdeen, Northampton, Glasgow, Wolverhampton, Woking, Nottingham, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, York, Milton Keynes and Dublin. Set and lighting design for Hedda Gabler is by Jan Versweyveld, with costume design by An D’Huys and sound by Tom Gibbons. The associate directors are Jeff James and Rachel Lincoln. For tour venues and dates, visit heddagableronstage.com

Hedda Gabler in Salford and Wolverhampton is supported by The Garfield Weston Foundation.

PEOPLE, PLACES & THINGS by Duncan Macmillan a co-production with Headlong Following a critically-acclaimed, sold-out season at the National Theatre and in London’s West End, People, Places & Things is now on a major UK tour for Headlong in a co-production with the National Theatre, HOME and Exeter Northcott Theatre. People, Places & Things is written by Duncan Macmillan, and directed by Jeremy Herrin with Holly Race Roughan. The play features set designs by Bunny Christie, costumes by Christina Cunningham, lighting by James Farncombe, music by Matthew Herbert, sound by Tom Gibbons and video design by Andrzej Goulding. Touring to Bristol, Exeter, Southampton, Liverpool and Cambridge for dates, visit the website.

THIS HOUSE by James Graham Jonathan Church Productions and Headlong present the National Theatre and Chichester Festival Theatre production of This House, produced in the West End by Nica Burns, Neal Street Productions and Headlong. James Graham’s smash-hit political drama examining the 1974 hung parliament tours the UK for the first time. Directed by Jeremy Herrin, the production is designed by Rae Smith, with lighting design by Paule Constable, music by Stephen Warbeck, choreography by Scott Ambler and sound by Ian Dickinson. UK tour begins in February 2018 and tours to Leeds, Cambridge, Bath, Edinburgh, Nottingham, Birmingham, Salford, Plymouth, Norwich, Malvern, Guildford and Sheffield for dates, visit the website.

International PEOPLE, PLACES & THINGS by Duncan Macmillan produced in New York by the National Theatre, St Ann’s Warehouse, Bryan Singer Productions and Headlong People, Places & Things is currently playing at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn until 3 December following a sold-out season at the National Theatre and in London’s West End. Denise Gough reprises her Olivier award-winning role in the American premiere of People, Places & Things at St. Ann’s Warehouse – a raw, heartbreaking and truthful performance about life spinning recklessly out of control. This American premiere marks the first collaboration between St. Ann’s Warehouse and the National Theatre. For more information visit the website.

ANGELS IN AMERICA: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes by Tony Kushner The great work returns to Broadway from February 2018. Angels in America will open at the Neil Simon Theater on 25 March. The NT production of Tony Kushner’s epic masterwork, Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, returns to Broadway for the first time since its now-legendary original production opened in 1993. Starring two-time Tony Award® winner Nathan Lane and Academy Award® and Tony Award nominee Andrew Garfield, the cast of Angels in America will also feature Susan Brown, Denise Gough, Amanda Lawrence, James McArdle, Lee Pace and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett. Angels in America is directed by Marianne Elliott. Set design by Ian MacNeil, costume design by Nicky Gillibrand, lighting design by Paule Constable, music by Adrian Sutton, sound design by Ian Dickinson, puppetry design is by Nick Barnes and Finn Caldwell (also Puppetry Director and Movement), movement direction by Robby Graham, and illusions by Chris Fisher. Angels in America is produced by NT America, Jujamcyn Theaters and Elliott & Harper Productions. For more information visit angelsbroadway.com

THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME based on the novel by Mark Haddon, adapted by Simon Stephens The NT’s Olivier and Tony Award®-winning production of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is now on an international tour, visiting the Netherlands, Canada, Australia, Hong Kong and Singapore, with further international dates to be announced. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time recently completed a North American tour which took in 30 cities across the USA at a 25-date UK and Ireland tour. The play is adapted by Simon Stephens from Mark Haddon’s best-selling book, and directed by Marianne Elliott. The production is designed by Bunny Christie, with lighting design by Paule Constable, video design by Finn Ross, movement by Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett for Frantic Assembly, music by Adrian Sutton and sound by Ian Dickinson for Autograph. For more information visit http://ift.tt/2fGhLCS

National Theatre Live

NT Live currently screens to 60 countries across the globe.

Stephen Sondheim’s Follies directed by Dominic Cooke features a cast of 37 including, Tracie Bennett, Janie Dee and Imelda Staunton. Broadcast live on 16 November.

Rory Kinnear plays Marx and Oliver Chris plays Engels in Young Marx directed by Nicholas Hytner and broadcast live from the Bridge Theatre on 7 December.

Benedict Andrews directs Sienna Miller and Jack O’Connell in The Young Vic production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Captured during its West End run and broadcast on 22 February 2018.

Nicholas Hytner directs Ben Whishaw, Michelle Fairley, David Calder and David Morrissey in Julius Caesar. Broadcast from the Bridge Theatre on 22 March 2018.

Rory Kinnear and Anne-Marie Duff appear in a new production of Macbeth, directed by Rufus Norris. Broadcast live from the National Theatre on 10 May.

Simon Godwin’s production of Antony and Cleopatra with Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo will be broadcast live from the National Theatre. Date tbc.

Sky Arts is the sponsor of NT Live in the UK nationaltheatre.org.uk

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