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roseworth · 2 years

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for ur writing prompts if u wanna👀: "I'm not leaving you here." w/ bruce and jason

send me a prompt 🥴

Bruce’s comm crackled to life in his ear. “Batman?”

He would recognize Jason’s voice anywhere, but it usually wasn’t so… quiet.

“Hood? What’s wrong?”

He and Jason hadn’t talked in a while. They weren’t exactly avoiding each other; they had seen each other plenty. It was just that all interactions were minute-long stilted conversations at most.

And Jason hadn’t tried to contact him in months.

“I, uh, I got a little hurt,” Jason said. From the way his voice was strained, and the fact that he reached out at all, Bruce guessed he was more than “a little hurt.”

“Where are you?”

“Warehouse near Robinson.”

Bruce could get there in 10 minutes. He started up the Batmobile and slammed his foot on the gas.

“How bad are you injured?”

Jason paused for a moment, then sighed. “Both legs broken, same with some ribs and my right arm. Lost a lot of blood, too, and I think I have a concussion.”

Bruce gritted his teeth. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t bother,” Jason said nonchalantly. Bruce felt his heartbeat quicken.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve, uh… there’s a bomb counting down. And the door is locked. And I’m a little too close to death to think about disabling the bomb or picking the lock.”

Fuck.

He enabled the Batmobile’s afterburners and pretended he didn’t feel his heart sinking.

“How…” Bruce cleared his throat. “How much time is left on the bomb?”

“4 minutes.”

Bruce was still 9 minutes away.

“Just stay calm, Jason, I’ll be there soon.”

Jason laughed drily. “I’m getting deja vu.”

“Jay–”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you before I die.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“Sure, old man,” he said with a morbid tinge of humor. “You know what’s funny? I don’t think I’ve ever been scared of death. Even before I died. I guess that comes with our line of work.”

“I know,” Bruce mumbled softly.

“I mean, look at you. You’ve faced gods and monsters and aliens and whatever, but you’re still scared of bats,” Jason mused. “And I’ve died and come back to life and faced all this bullshit, but what I’m really scared of…”

“Jason?”

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Of a lot of things, I think.”

It was the concussion talking, Bruce knew that. Jason used to ramble a lot when he got a concussion. Maybe some things haven’t changed.

But he was still too far away.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bruce assured him softly. It is. It is. It has to be.

“B, I wanted to tell you, I’m not sorry for anything I did,” Jason said. His voice sounded hollow. “But I’m sorry it turned out like this. I wish things could’ve been different.”

��Me too, son,” Bruce sighed.

Jason snorted. “See? Look at us talking about our feelings,” he joked. “Look how easy that was. Makes you wonder why we didn’t do it before.”

Because we still can’t fix anything, Bruce thought, but said nothing.

“I know I’m supposed to regret it when I do bad things,” Jason went on. “But I don’t think I can find it in myself to feel like they’re that bad.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Bruce said. “We shouldn’t do bad things because we know that they’re bad, not because they feel right.”

“Ouch, I’m minutes from death, and you’re still lecturing me,” he replied sarcastically. “I thought I’d at least get a deathbed exception.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“Saying that doesn’t make it true.”

“I’m sorry for disappointing you, lad,” Bruce sighed, hoping the Batmobile would somehow break its top speed. “I don’t regret not killing, but… I am sorry that I let go of you.”

“You didn’t,” Jason said. “I did that myself.”

Bruce bit down on his lip. “How long is left on that bomb?”

“2 minutes.”

He was making good time, but he was still 5 minutes away. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Just a little faster, just a little bit more time…

“Bruce, we’ve been here before,” Jason said, his voice still sounding empty and far away. “We know what happens. It’s okay.”

“Damnit, Jason, I’m not leaving you there!” Bruce shouted, much louder than anything else he had said. It was true. It had to be true. He was going to make it.

“Okay,” Jason whispered. He didn’t sound like he believed it.

“Just– just hang on, Jason, I’m almost there.”

“Okay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw so hard he thought it might break. He listened to Jason’s stuttered breathing and tried to keep the image of a cold and broken Robin in the rubble of a warehouse out of his head.

Things were different now. Everything was different now, so this had to be, too. But some things really never did change.

He thought of Jason and Stephanie and Damian, the way he had been too late to save all three of them. He thought about how Cass had died so far away without him knowing, and if Shiva hadn’t put her in the Lazarus Pit…

Another child gone. Another failed attempt to help.

“Bruce? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Okay, good, okay,” Jason said breathily. “I don’t think I can stay much longer.”

Bruce could barely hear him over his heart beating in his ears. “What do you mean?”

“I’m… it’s okay. I’ve been dead before. It’ll be okay.”

“Jason…”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just–”

“Jason, I’m almost there, just stay calm, okay?”

“Fine.”

2 minutes. He was almost there. He didn’t dare ask how long Jason had left.

He remembered years ago, driving towards another warehouse, coming closer, just minutes away as he watched it explode in the distance. He gripped the steering wheel like he was trying to squeeze the life out of it. The past doesn’t have to repeat itself.

But he didn’t learn from his mistakes. He was doomed to keep learning the same lessons, facing the same consequences over and over. He wasn’t enough. He never was, never would be.

“You’re going to be fine, Jason, it’s going to be okay,” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Jason. Jason hummed a half-hearted acknowledgment.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Bruce contained another sigh. “I’m okay, Jay, don’t worry about me.”

“Good,” he responded. “I miss… knowing you.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I know who either of us are anymore.”

Bruce didn’t reply. He was there. He made it. It’s okay, it’s okay.

It’s okay.

He threw himself out of the Batmobile and broke down the door as fast as he could. He took a split second to see Jason on the ground, eyes closed, breathing heavily. He wasn’t exaggerating about his injuries.

It wasn’t unfixable. Nothing is unfixable.

The bomb had 15 seconds. He ran closer, carefully lifting Jason up. “Jay? Can you hear me?”

Jason cracked his eyes open. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said softly, running out of the building. As soon as they were far enough away, he knelt down and lifted his cape. It should be enough to shield most of the blast.

He watched Jason’s face contort as the building blew up behind them. Jason opened his eyes and looked around.

“We’re alive,” he said quietly, his voice not losing the empty tone. “Huh.”

“It’s alright, son, you’re okay,” Bruce muttered. “It’s okay.”

Jason closed his eyes again. “Okay.”

It’s okay. He’s okay.

Nothing is unfixable.

#dont think too hard about how distance is measured in this lmao #jason todd #bruce wayne #dc #fanfic #my writing #thank u for the request 🥺🤲#in all honesty i dont love this one but thats okay <3 #i love to force my mediocre writing onto my followers

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angelguk · 3 years

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if youre still thinking angst for jock jk: much like real life jungkook, jock jk i feel like wants to be good — at everything. and he really is great at everything! so when he isnt great, he takes it very personally and i wouldnt be surprised if this spills into his relationship. wanting to do things “perfectly” in their relationship but forgetting that jock jk! oc should be involved in the decision making of what is “perfect”

alternatively: olivia rodrigo deja vu but jungkook is olivia thinking about oc and namjoon

this is very much a valid angst prompt ur brain is amazing anon im giving u a kiss rn......... ummm lemme write sumn small for dis :3

featuring: oc being oblivious, jeongguk just wanting to be the best boypwen, namjoon being observant and unspoken insecurities

Jeongguk doesn't usually shrink into himself like this. He abhors it, knows it's not him at all. And yet, he can't help his behaviour, knee bouncing harshly against the bricked pavements as he waits for you to leave your chemistry lab. There's a dainty silver bracelet sitting in his pocket, his head resting in hands as the autumn sun beats down on his back. You don't know it yet but he's got a pretty date planned: a late lunch at your favourite restaurant, an evening walk in the park at the centre of town, maybe some arcade games or a movie if you feel like it, and then a drive down to the hillside where you can watch the sun slip beyond the horizon and Jeongguk can gift you the bracelet and the cute bunny teddy he picked out last night.

It's not for any reason in particular, Jeongguk just wants you to know how much he cares (loves) you. Adoration is what drives his actions, his head springing up when the doors finally swing open and your fellow students spill forth into the afternoon breeze.

You're always one of the last people to leave because you liked buttering up your professors with casual conversations and sweet compliments, so Jeongguk isn't too bothered when everyone disperses and you're still not visible. It's not like you knew he was here away – he did tell you he was stuck in practise all afternoon.

When you do appear, the tiny welcoming smile that was sitting on his lips plummets to the floor.

You're gazing up at a familiar face, eyes sparkling as the sun hits them, your features bright and eager. His eyes eventually shift to the person ambling beside you, taking his towering stature and confident stride, a sickening feeling spreading through his system when he recognises who it is.

Kim Namjoon.

Of all sights to see, Jeongguk would rather have his eyes plucked out by birds that see you around Namjoon again. Especially after what he said to him.

You're giggling, completely unaware of the violent twisting of Jeongguk's heart in his ribs and the words he'd planned to say dissolving on his tongue. You don't even notice him at first, Namjoon's eyes are the ones that stray away, idling over the campus scenery until the settle on Jeongguk.

He wants to smash something, fingernails digging into his palm as his fist curls. Namjoon just grins, waving him down like they're old friends. "Jeongguk!"

You follow then, surprise bleeding over your pretty face. Jeongguk doesn't know why it hurts.

"Gukkie?" A question. He notes how you lean into Namjoon as you draw close, like he's your boyfriend.

"Hey." It's said so quietly that Jeongguk considers smacking himself in the face. A tight cough follows the meek word, clearing his throat from the heaviness that plagues it. "How was class?"

"Good," you return, still confused. "I thought you had practise?"

"Coach let us out early," he lies, smiling hard so you don't see through it.You make a non-committal noise, vaguely appeasing the turmoil in his head. "Namjoon," he adds, finally acknowledging the asshole. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah," he sighs, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I got an internship here; Professor Song was kind enough to give me an assistant position. I'm considering applying for master's here too."

"Oh," he doesn't even try to mask his irritation. "That's nice."

But you don't hear it, nodding like an enamoured puppy. "Right? It'll be nice having you around again!"

"It feels good to be here," Namjoon returns. "Don't know why I didn’t apply to this university, to be honest."

Jeongguk knows. It was because this was your dream university and Namjoon didn't want to do his undergraduate with you trailing around like a lingering stench, especially right after your break-up. But now, apparently, he's totally fine with it.

"Hmm, yeah. It's a great university," Jeongguk states, disinterested. He turns to you with a tired smile. "I actually came to pick you up for lunch, you haven't eaten yet have you?"

"I actually did before class," you say, lips forming an apologetic pout. "Can we reschedule for dinner? I wanna show Namjoon around first."

Oh. The weight of his heart sinks him into the ground, earth eagerly swallowing him up as his head splits. So Namjoon gets first priority. Kim Namjoon, over him. Over your boyfriend.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeongguk shrugs. "That's fine. We can reschedule. Text me when you're done, okay?"

He doesn't miss the way Namjoon's gaze lingers on him as he turns away, waving you a quick goodbye. You didn't even give him a hug, stationed beside Namjoon like you watched to attach his limbs to yours. It's unsettling, how swift you loyalty glides away from Jeongguk. He hates how annoyed it makes him because he knows you don't do it purposely. But still, shouldn't he come first?

It's that thought that sends him spiralling, sitting alone in the heat of his car as the bracelet in his pocket grows heavy. Where you like this with Namjoon? Did you put him first? He thinks you did – you cancelled on him so many times in the course of that relationship. Did Namjoon take you to similar places? Did the two of you have moments you never shared with him? That one hurts the most, because even to this day Jeongguk has never shared the titbit of information Namjoon granted him. What did Namjoon give you that you never see in Jeongguk? Even with the title of 'together' hanging over your heads he doesn't feel secure enough – good enough for you. It's what leaves him on edge, overthinking each moment and word and touch shared between the two of you. Because it took you both so long to get here, what did you see in those other guys that you never saw in Jeongguk at first? He longs to be only one you remember, wipe away any lasting memory of any of the others, until it was only him.

But that feels impossible, further sparked in moments like this when you pick them over him. He'll always be the second option, the sideline safety. But never the first choice.

#ask #anon #listened to deja vu while writing dis #nawt edited #jungkok angst #jungkook x reader #au: jock!jaykay

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bigteefsmallbrain · 3 years

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SOULMATE AU HEADCANONS

So, Soulmate AU where when you talk out loud to yourself, your soulmate can hear you and vice versa, but actively trying to have a conversation with them doesn't work. I'm here, it's 8:43 in the afternoon as opposed to 3:29 AM when I first came up with this.

SOULMATE AU HEADCANONS FOR: Shoto Todoroki, Rin Okumura, and Sakura Haruno

Shoto Todoroki

Aha, good luck finding out you have a soulmate in the first place with this one

He literally does not speak out loud to himself

Not at first that is

He also is clueless about soulmates, like, as soon as he hears your voice he’s google searching “Why is there a voice in my head talking about how their family is disrespecting Ramen?”

When he does realize that it’s his soulmate, he won’t actively pursue speaking to himself or finding you

Actively being the key word here

He wants to believe he doesn’t care and that his soulmate, whoever they are, will just get in his way

But that doesn’t stop him from focusing solely on you when you talk

Or trying to reply to you sometimes

And it certainly doesn’t stop him from subconsciously starting to speak to himself

Which, by the way, scared the piss out of you the first time

You didn’t even know you had a soulmate till that point

so hearing a male voice in your head go “I can’t believe they only serve hot soba here”

Would understandably frighten you

He doesn’t even realize it at first until his father gets pissed at him for mumbling

And he’s just like “oh” and immediately stops, as soon as he realizes from then on

Like you’ll be going about your day, hear him start to speak, then cut himself off

Which is disappointing

His sudden radio silence changes drastically after his fight with Midoriya

Like after getting knocked out by Bakugo and being put into the infirmary, he decides to check over himself while mumbling or if Recovery Girl lists his injuries for him, he’ll repeat them under his breath

Which, scares you obviously, but you’re also glad he’s not dead or something

He starts rating cold soba that he has or has had in the past

Reviewing his day

Talking about Midoriya

Which worries you, does he have a crush? Are they just good friends? Is this ‘Midoriya’ going to steal your soulmate

I stg, Midoriya has become a love rival and the poor boy has no idea

You’re stalking him on the internet trying to find anything you can on him to make sure you can outdo anything he does

He can knit? Oh look, professional lessons and equipment

He does Yoga? Aha, you have never been more flexible in your life

Anything he’s done? You are now doing it better than he ever could

Todoroki doesn’t have this same fear, his parents weren’t soulmates, and he fully trusts you, you’re made for each other, literally

When you finally meet, it’s so unexpected, and he blue screens

Here? Now? Who? What’s yesterday?

He’s not functioning

Todoroki.exe has crashed

Person too pretty

You’re not any better though

Honestly, have you seen this man? He’s model material

Worth millions

You both stare at each other for a good while before Midoriya comes and breaks the silence

And Todoroki makes the mistake of going “Oh, hey Midoriya” and paying attention to him

The fire has been lit, RIP Midoriya Izuku, an innocent man

Rin Okumura

You have a collection of recipes

He talks A LOT when cooking, like, he’s a walking cookbook, going through each step and ingredient

Even for recipes of his own creation

Which he never writes down and frequently forgets

So when you meet, he’s convinced he died and went to heaven

All his beautifully crafted recipes and instructions, he may cry when you show them to him

He also reads out loud to himself, so prepare for that

All the Manga, any book he may read, some new recipe he found on the internet

He reads it out, and sometimes does different voices for other characters

Which is great and all, but since he’s a dropout, it’s literally at all the worst times

Doing a math quiz? He’s crying while reading a romance manga

Trying to study? Good luck with that, he’s dramatically reenacting a action manga panel

He watches Hell's Kitchen and other cooking shows

And RAMBLES

He’s talking about how this technique would be better

Or how he should try recreating that dish later

Critiquing how something turned out

Making a dish along with the show

Now, for him, every time he hears your voice, he freezes

Like, physically freezes

No thoughts, head empty, only soulmate

He will not respond until you’re done talking to yourself

And he commits whatever you say to memory

If you talk about a certain food, he is IMMEDIATELY in the kitchen either A) Learning the recipe for it, or B) Making sure he can still cook it

I can, nearly guarantee, that this man will invite you to his home for breakfast/lunch/dinner when you meet, and cook literally everything you’ve ever mentioned

And continue to cook for you after that

Like, he goes from “I wish to eliminate my birth father” to “The way of the house husband, Okumura style”

When you both meet, he pounces on you

No, I mean literally

He leaps on top of you

No hesitation

As soon as he hears your voice

It’s a immediate cuddle session on the floor

Or if you manage to stay upright, he’s clinging to you like a koala

No, you can’t escape or avoid

And if you DO stay upright, he will continue to lunge at you every time he is within jumping distance

Sakura Haruno

Yes, she may be seen as annoying or useless, but I like her, so I’m going to self indulge, and you can’t stop me

That doesn’t mean I'm gonna sugar coat this though

THIS GIRL GOES THROUGH ALL FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF IN THREE HOURS, AND MOST OF IT IS CRYING

She has spent who knows how long pursuing a toxic, probably Naruto-sexual, duck lookin emo DISASTER only to find out he’s NOT her soulmate?

“I went on this diet, and for what? Nothing”

“I bet it’s wrong, it has to be, right? Sasuke can’t NOT be my soulmate, RIGHT!?”

Yeah, she’s in a sad/denial state for about a week after that

And even after, she’s still salty

It’s not until Sasuke leaves, telling Sakura to go pursue HER soulmate instead of some stupid skin deep crush that she really begins to get OVER him and get INTO you

Except you’ve had enough of her Sasuke BS, so she not only needs to let go of her long time crush, but also make it up to her soulmate

The first time she says something about getting over Sasuke and wanting to be with her soulmate, you laugh, and she hears because you DON’T want to talk to her

“Does she really think one sentence is going to fix years of heartbreak?”

Now, when you put it like that, she cringes, and realizes that there's a lot of damage she caused

Honestly, when you two meet, you don’t recognize each other immediately, due to the fact that you don’t speak to her often or care to remember her voice

You probably found her with her head in her hands, probably eating away her woes at Ichirakus

You slide in, very smoothly, might I add, and ask what’s wrong while ordering yourself a bowl

She tells you the surface, that a friend ran from the village, which is true, but not what she’s sad about

You give her advice, chit chat a bit longer, getting to know each other, before paying for both her and your bowl and heading off

Never gave any names, just friendly conversation

You run into each other more frequently, growing closer with each talk, finally knowing each others names

Never mentioning meeting each other when talking to yourselves though

Eventually, using your advice when Sakura mentioned her soulmate was mad at her, you grew to forgive your soulmate

The two of you got such Deja Vu because of it too, since you were talking to each other and listening to the other ramble to themselves

Till one day, one of you mention the others name

And the other is like, “Oh my gosh [Y/N or Sakura] is my soulmate”

And then you both know

And the next time you see each other it’s a bit awkward, until Sakura says “So uh, I used your advice”

And you burst out laughing, conversation flowing as it would from there

You do hold a vendetta against Sasuke though, and after getting to know Sakura, it just gets 10 times worse

Like you’re ready to knock his teeth in if you ever see him

The pure, unadulterated rage you hold for him grows with every hate crime against Sakura he makes

Like, she tries to help him, now platonically, and he tries to kill her

There is no end to your rage

Everyone knows not to mention his name around you now

White boy better run and run fast if y’all ever meet

Yes, I do simp for pink haired characters, what are you gonna do about it?

If you’d like to see more headcanons, be that for this AU, or something else, feel free to submit an ask or comment! I hope you enjoyed these little headcanons!

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aquarii-writes · 3 years

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History on repeat(Dream x f!reader)

Ngl this was inspired by a dnf piece on tik tok. While I don't ship it the art was beautiful and the song attached inspired me to write this. This also includes my headcanons for Dream/his parents and I'll elaborate on it in a different post if enough people ask lmao

Notes: I should mention to look at my 'DSMP headcanons' especially Dream's part because that's where I kinda explain that I don't believe that Dream himself is a dreamon but that his mask contains one. I also used Dream's real name as his fathers name. I don't really like using the dsmp members real names if it's not in their user but I had to think of a name

WARNINGS: none I can think of aside from death and stuff of similar manners

WC:1,005

Genre: Angstyy

Two people sat together along the shoreline of a river. The colors of the sunset danced on the water. Turning the already beautiful area ethereal. Warm summer air tickled the woman; her blonde hair jumped with the wind.

"You're so beautiful [REDACTED]" the man spoke. His amber eyes held a love for the woman beside him; his lovely wife. Her green cloak acted as a pillow for her.

"You're too kind my darling" a smile played on the woman's lips. Her mask discarded beside her. The painted smile similar to the one she held.

"I love you with all my heart" a smile danced on the mans face. His lovely wife sat up and hugged him. Falling back into the grass the happy couple basked in one another. Masks long forgotten beside them. "Stay with me forever [REDACTED]?"

"Of course my darling dream" the twos faces were close as the wife spoke. It felt as though time sat there frozen to preserve the lasting moment.

Smiling towards you Dream held out his arms to get you to come towards him. As you got near Dream pulled you on top of him. His arms circling around your waist.

~~~

"Dream~" your voice was loving. Dreams mask was off as he watched you jump in the stream water. The sun was setting over the horizon and the light gave an other worldly glow to you and the water.

Playing with the locks of hair that fell into your grasp, Dream watched you. A deep seeded longing in his eyes. Out here away from everything was when Dream was the most caring. His affections unrestricted when he wasn't in the eyes of his friends. When he could easily sneak away.

Though the future had many plans for the two of you, but here in this moment the future could wait.

"I would do anything for you (y/n)" Dream's amber eyes looked like the sun. Specks of gold shined like they were directly in the sun. Nodding to his statement you kissed the man before you. An adoring hum escaped him.

Pulling away you mumbled out a response. "I love you with all my heart~"

"Will you stay with me forever?" with a teasing smile Dream rubbed your sides: tickling you along the way.

"Of course my darling Dream" an unknown feeling of deja vu came over the two. Seems as though something similar happened in the past.

~~~

"My dream!!' [REDACTED] screamed for her husband. "Don't take him away! Please!," the woman covered her small sons ears. The child didn't know what was happening. huddling into his mother arms the woman kept screaming for her husband.

Huddled under her cloak the small boy held a hand over his mother stomach and whispered to it. The boys father struggled against the men who held him away from his family. "CLAY! LET HIM GO! He didn't mean it.." [REDACTED] dropped to the ground crying. Her son hugging his mother. "Oh my baby Dream"

Dream's mother held onto him for dear life. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his father get taken to the gallows. As a final goodbye his father threw towards them.

Crawling away from his mother, Dream grabbed the mask; his fathers mask. The plastic was cracked in a few placed, and some of the paint was chipped, but it was probably the last thing he would ever have of his fathers.

"Please just let my husband go" [REDACTED]'s mask was similarly painted though the tears the spilt from under it spoke another story. "It was the Dreamons who did it.. not my Clay.. not my lovely dreamer.." her whimpers drew her son back over to her.

"Mommy what's happening to daddy?" Dream wouldn't get an answer from her. Just wails and whimpers about how cruel the world was.

~~~

"Dream what did you do..," Tommy and Tubbo huddled behind you. A fearful look settled in your eyes. Dream's mask was just that, a mask. Behind it he held no remorse for what he had done and what he said.

He did plan on killing Tubbo, but the look in your eyes made his thoughts stutter. Should he not kill Tubbo? When Dream said he doesn't care about anyone it planted a seed in your heart. Did he really not love you anymore?

Dream didn't answer you. All he did was stare at you through the mask. "Take off your damn mask and answer me Dream" when your voice jumped at him all Dream could do was stare. He didn't talk and he didn't react. "Why aren't you answering me?! Dream WHY did you do it?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Like hell you didn't mean to!" your tone was sharp. It made the boys behind you move back as you came forward to hold Dream's face. This felt too familiar. Why does it feel so familiar?

Knitted brows went unnoticed behind the mask. His annoyed expression hidden to the world; to you. His everything. Before he lost it he wanted to marry you. He even joked about you being his wife. His darling wife.

"Do you not care about me anymore? After everything that's happened between us?" a certain sadness pushed your pain to him. It was the same sorrow his mother screamed from the top of her lungs. That's why it felt so familiar.

A desolate look decorated your (e/c) eyes. The same eyes he would've fought wars so see happy. The very eyes he believed he would love forever.

"It's not my fault- sweetheart it's not my fault" his words became more rushed as Sam pulled Dream away. Dragging him to Pandora's Vault. All the way to his box.

The misery and heartache Dream saw on your face reminded him of his mother. The heartbreak he never wanted to see again.

~~~

{REDACTED] held a baby in her arms as she watched her son play on the hill with her friends son. The baby girl in her arms slept peacefully as she spoke to her friend beside her.

Puffy had been a good friend of [REDACTED] for a long time now. "Puffy you have to promise me something"

"Anything [REDACTED]" Puffy watched the baby in her friends arms. The poor thing had been born months after her fathers hanging. The family had to go into hiding.

"Please after tonight take my babies with you.... I don't think I can carry on much longer with out my Clay.." despair was the only way Puffy could describe her once vibrant friend.

The woman's once vibrant green eyes now only held melancholy. The satchel that sat beside her only contained a few things; one thing being Clay's mask.

"Dream my beloved!" [REDACTED] called out for her boy. The mask that once adorned her face constantly had been vacant since her husband died.

Running up to his momma Dream reached out to hold his baby sister. Passing baby Drista [REDACTED] kissed her sons head before pulling something from her satchel.

"Dream listen to me. The world is a cruel and it will hurt you-" holding out Clay's mask to her son said everything to the small boy. Giving baby Drista to Puffy, Dream took his fathers mask away from his mother. "Wear this.. it was your fathers..," a sadistic smile rested on his mothers face.

It scared him, but it was the first smile he saw from her since his father died.

"Okay mommy" Dream slipped on the mask his father once wore and winced. It felt like strings were licking his face. It felt wrong. This wasn't his mask to be keeping was it?

~~~

The prison vault was deafening. Nothing was a really annoying sound when all that surrounded you was lava and crying obsidian. Though he had one thing to look forward to.

You promised to see him today. His lovely wife. Well you weren't married. He fucked up that chance when he lost himself to the mask. The dreamons that whispered to him constantly.

Ever since he came in here the whispers stopped. Except for when they speak about you.

The pistoning sound of the bridge coming brought Dream from his head. A sadistic smile grew on him. Throwing off the mask the threads retreated back into the plastic.

"(y/n) my beloved!" a crazed look adorned Dream's face as he looked at you. His beloved wife. "I love you so much~"

"Dream.." with a heavy heart you held Dream's face. His eyes held a look of longing love.

"Dream love.. listen to me. The world is cruel.. and it's going to hurt," your voice cracked as you held Dream's hands. Worry filled him as Dream dragged you towards him.

Pushing back Dream dug around in the chest of his room. A ring sat gently between his fingers.

"Wear this... it'll protect you.." a hopeful look held on to Dream's face. All his love and adoration for you.

"I'm sorry Dream.. I love you so much but maybe it's better if we split ways.... I.. why do I trust you so much? Your hands are scarred with murder, but I trust them completely.." crumpling to the ground you sobbed. Conflictions and pain battering against you for weeks.

Dream held you. He had seen this all before. History was repeating. He witnessed this happen between his parents. The very thing he never wanted to happen to him did. He's losing the love of his life.

Why does history have to repeat?

#mcyt imagine #dsmp imagine #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream x reader #dream imagine

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galacticlamps · 3 years

Text

im sorry im sorry im sorry i know it’s been well over a year but i accidentally thought about Short Trips: Deleted Scenes (again) and it’s killing me (again) so i think im just gonna go ahead and post all these stupid thoughts that have been plaguing me about it since i first heard it & maybe that’ll help clear up some space in my head for like, real life things.

Spoilers I guess? It’s like a year and a half old but also high key the most recent 2nd doctor content i believe we’ve gotten which is like, the only negative thing I can say about it

The TLDR version is this:

I literally cant believe how sweet it is? Painful, but sweet. Like. I don’t honestly know what’s more likely - did they set out to write Jamie a nice little straight love interest and just fail miserably at it by constantly likening her to the Doctor AND paralleling the Doctor’s perspective with her ex’s AND putting Jamie’s relationships with both of them in direct tension with each other while constantly letting his with the Doctor win out?

OR - did they do a very 1960s thing and say hey we’re gonna write what’s essentially a story about how much Jamie and the Doctor love each other and release it on Valentine’s Day thinly disguised as a one-off romance with a french lady?

Now, as a general rule, my attitude toward questions like that is usually “don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t matter” - and while I 100% stand by that, I also have to admit that this particular audio seems to pay enough attention to detail that I’d kind of think I was selling it short if I assumed too many of these things were just meaningless coincidences, you know?

Anyway, that’s the most coherent/overarching thought. And here’s a disorganized list of things I absolutely cannot get over about it (they don’t form any kind of argument, mind, they just all happen to live rent free in my head):

- Celine is first taken in by Jamie being an idiot (specifically him claiming not to speak French, in perfect French); likewise, her entrance in the scene where they actually kiss is marked with a little anecdote about her hat getting stuck on a doornail and her scolding it as she attempts to fix her un-tameable appearance, and the narration says Celine “would often clown for Jamie like this” - all of which, while undeniably adorable, don’t exactly strike me as entirely original traits to have been assigned to Jamie’s love-interest (but also Celine is so cool and her perspective on film/media/time is an excellent addition to the long list of dr who characters)

- When they’re in the present, describing Jamie’s relationship with Celine in 1908, they call him her “companion” and highlight his going nearly everywhere with her, which earns a laugh from the 4th doctor (and me as well, though probably for slightly different reasons - but like, is that really all it takes to have a fling with someone in 60′s era who? bc if so...)

- Celine’s ex-fiance is still in love with her and is jealously watching when she kisses Jamie ... and then the Doctor appears beside him, evidently doing the exact. same. thing. They have the following conversation:

“You know, it’s not prudent to spy on people. But then, people in pain can’t be expected to act prudently.”

“Pain, monsieur? You mistake me.”

“Ah, do I? Good, because I rather thought you’d lost something.”

“What would you know about loss monsieur?”

- I’m sorry doc but who do you think you are, saying stuff like that and smiling sadly at the floor to boot? I 100% had to pause it here the first time I listened, just to not throw my laptop across the room.

- Then when I recovered continued, the Doctor closes the door so they can’t watch anymore and explains “Possessing things comes so terribly easily to some men that losing them can feel cruel, intolerably cruel. In my experience, only the very best of men cannot be tempted to answer that cruelty with more - I do sincerely hope that you are the best of men.” (guess who gets described as the best of men by the end of the audio?)

- Jamie and the Doctor apparently develop a habit of walking along the river in Paris in silence

- During one such walk, Jamie suggests Celine come with them since she already figured out about the Tardis - and when the Doctor’s worried by this, he says he only allowed Jamie & Celine to grow closer “because of Victoria.” Jamie takes offense at the ‘allowing it’ comment and also refuses to admit he knows what the Doctor means about Victoria, which leads the Doctor to say that he knows how fond Jamie was of her - he was too, of course, but with him, “it was different, wasn’t it?” Jamie only says maybe that’s true and maybe that’s not, but his voice catches until he changes the subject

- Jamie doesn’t see Celine for days both times that she’s recovering from the shock and depression of her work being destroyed. In contrast, when the Doctor’s not well, Jamie’s "afraid” and “guilty” and hardly seems to leave his side at all, if his being there “rushing to embrace him” the second he wakes up - after a period Jamie describes as “at least a week” - is anything to go by, anyway. so either bf writers need to learn how to write a committed straight relationship or admit that’s not what they ever intended in the first place

- Oh yeah, and the Doctor spends that week "asleep” in Jamie’s bedroom - no, there’s no explanation as to if that’s where he was when he first collapsed or if it’s where Jamie decided to take him bc why would they feel the need to explain him being there? why was it even relevant to tell us it was Jamie’s room in the first place?

- The Doctor somehow manages to control the Tardis enough to take Celine on one trip to an alien planet and then return to the correct time & place for her to use the footage she recorded there in her new film - and while the audio doesn’t do very much to explain how that was possible, it does treat this as A Pretty Big Deal, and immediately afterward the Doctor has to spend a week communing with his past self (and/or the Tardis?) debating how likely it is that the Time Lords could use this to trace him. When he decides it’s not worth the risk and they have to stop the film from ever being shown to the public, Jamie asks why he agreed to it in the first place, and all he can say is “Because, Jamie, you asked me to!” earning awkward stares from the crowd.

- Oh, but, lest we forget, that little outburst is also immediately followed by him putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and, shockingly, apparently beginning to actually explain the truth about the danger from the Time Lords - until they’re interrupted, of course idk why exactly but the idea of a 60s dr wanting to come clean with a companion but not being allowed to bc the show demands the war games be something of a reveal hurts me in a very good way

- The mental image of “the Doctor and Jamie, resplendent in borrowed evening wear”

- The audio admitting that Jamie’s not very good at subterfuge, and the Doctor asking if he’s going to be alright with them having to steal the film back from Celine - and Jamie’s little “Aye, Doctor” as he feels a ‘glass arrow piercing his chest’ glad to see bf is reading all my letters about exactly how i feel any time something sad happens to james robert mccrimmon

- The Doctor’s anxious to get out of there for obvious reasons, but he hangs around bc Jamie wants to see Celine again - which doesn’t happen, because of her aforementioned shock & depression, but she does leave Jamie a note that ends “you and that Doctor of yours - look after him Jamie, he loves you dearly, as do I.” yeah, if you didn’t want people to draw a parallel there, you could’ve picked, like, any other wording in the world.

- In case you weren’t fully convinced I’ve been reading too much into this whole audio already, consider this: Celine dies in Long Island in 1968, three days before her birthday - 1968 is when this story would’ve taken place in the show’s history (between Fury & Wheel), and dying three days before/after a birthday in America seems a bit... well I had some deja vu from it, anyway

- Four of all people being the one to bring back the film - I know he does it bc Sarah Jane makes him, but personally, I often feel like despite the length of his run, 4 is the Doctor with which we might’ve gotten the fewest glimpses into his interiority, so the fact that it’s him and not one of the more overtly sentimental Doctors makes it feel like it carries even more weight somehow, to me anyway. I think I wrote a post saying roughly the same thing about 4 & Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos but maybe I only did that inside my own head lol. Still, I’m all for any opportunities for Jamie to be one of the few characters to draw some noticeable emotion out of Four, but in fairness I haven’t touched too much of his EU stuff to really be able to compare the frequency with which this happens with other past companions

- Is Four referring to Two or Jamie when he says he got the film from “an old family friend”? Two did the actual stealing, but he probably means Jamie’s involvement - either way, it’s an interesting way of describing old companions - or selves?

- When Jemima goes to call Jamie a thief, Four is “roused” to defend him: “he really was the very best of men” again, any time four freely shows he cares about someone, im over the moon about it

- Oh ha ha, there’s an audio called “Deleted Scenes” featuring the Doctor who’s most affected by junked episodes. And at the end of it, a character who’s spent her life researching and lecturing about a lost film gets to watch it be ‘rediscovered’ after it’s gone unseen for decades. I feel marginally less stupid for reading into the other details of a story like this when it ends up deciding to be to be clever & slightly meta like that

But yeah

all in all, it’s kind of amazing to me that this genuinely reads like they sat down and said okay boys it’s valentines day, let’s write an audio where jamie kisses a girl, since that hasn’t happened except as a plot device in one story in 1967 - but then when they got down to business they accidentally(?) wrote a story all about how important his bond with the Doctor is and how easily that can be compared to a legitimate love interest (even if the love interest in question is a one off character & the extent of the relationship appears to be like one kiss & then having Jamie spend most of his time around the Doctor instead)

I realize there’s something slightly illogical about writing the words “shipping aside” after a post like this but seriously - no matter how many categories you’re able to see two & jamie’s relationship fitting into, this is 40 minutes of big finish just hitting you over the head with how powerful/special/important that relationship is, and with them being two of my favorite characters, i really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since

#jamie mccrimmon #second doctor #big finish #Short Trips: Deleted Scenes #yes i am gonna tag this #two/jamie #i think it earned it with the line from celine's letter if nothing else #and quite possibly the doctor's so-called imprudent & pain-driven spying #but i'll leave it at that #in case anyone's looking at the tags to decide if they should actually read this rambling monster of a post #also if you for some reason read this but haven't listened to the audio -#a) that's kind of you to care what i have to say but #b) you could probably have listened to half of it by now lol #did i mention it's a stand-alone audio that only costs $3?#and it's more of a traditional audio book format with one narrator who voices all the characters?#sorry i wasn't ready to do a bf pitch in the tags here #i genuinely dont know why someone who hasn't already heard it would bother to read all this #but if anyone has - thanks?#i'll shut up now so you can get on w ur day :)

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

Text

Everybody wants to rule the world (number 5 x reader)

Ask: the reader somehow survives the apocalypse and gets found by five and they spend a couple of years together, in those years they learn about eachother , unfortunately the reader doesn´t make it through the 45 years and dies somehow. When jumping back in time, five goes to find the reader at Griddy's and goes to check on her often and talk with her over coffee, when the apocalypse comes he brings her along with their siblings and also back in time and tells her he's not loosing her again

A/N: Hope this is what you wanted, they’re both 16 at the start like lets pretend instead of running away at 13 he waited a few more years. when he goes back in time to 2019 theyre both 16 just like idk its easier to write them both being 16+

Words:1917

Worked dragged on cold, quiet nights, sometimes the minimum wage job at the small town diner didn’t quite seem worth it, forcing a smile on your face at every new customer. “Can you go down to the freezer and get some ice please, sweety?” Smiling, you nod at your coworker, starting your descent down the steep steps to the basement. You never understood why it was placed quite so far down under Griddy’s but it was a welcome break, the near freezing air cooled your skin.

Deep into the freezer, you hear the door gently click shut behind you as you try to find any ice left at all. Once you spotted one, high up on the top shelf, you reach up on your tiptoes, your finger just skimming the cold plastic bag before you were thrown to the ground by an astronomical force followed promptly by a loud bang that resonated in your chest.

Before you could even gain a sense of what was happening another bang wracked through your body, followed by another, only for multiple hitting all at once almost like a nuclear strike, hell, it was a nuclear strike, that was the only reasoning you could think of to explain what was happening. Then it went silent, you find the courage to shakily make your way onto your feet, slowly edging towards the door.

Quivering, your fingers skimmed the cold door handle of the freezer, almost opening it before being thrown across the freezer by a shockwave, your back slamming against the floor giving you whiplash. Darkness filled the corners of your eyes as the world above you collapsed, the cold from the freezer almost freezing you in place as slowly, everything went black.

Cold seeped into your core as your eyes regained focus, as memories came flooding back tears came flooding in. Ignoring the pain from your back you throw yourself towards the door, begging for it to swing open to reveal that everything is normal only to be greeted with a door full of rubble. Without a second thought you start trying to dig through the rubble with your bare hands, almost instantly getting cuts and debris on your hands, only for a large rumble to cut through the quiet, you run away from the door as you watch it all fall down into the freezer.

“VANYA?”

Your head turns to the freezer door, seeing a stream of light just shining through the top, the outside world, and someone was there. “HELP!” You shout with every ounce of your body.

“HELP!”

Five couldn’t believe his ears, someone was still alive. He tried to find where the sound was coming from then he heard the call for help again, clear as day. Running in the direction it came from, he desperately searched for the sound of the voice before it was too late.

“Hello? Where are you?”

You see a shadow cross the small gap that separates you from the outside world, you hoped it was someone, anything. “I’m here! I’m right here. Look down.” The shadow moved back across the hole, stopping directly in front of it. Suddenly, he was behind you in a flash of blue, you turn to face him, not even bothering to question how he did that and threw yourself towards him and giving him a tight embrace.

When you release him and look around you’re on the surface, your eyes taking in the wasteland of the world. Your mouth fell open at the sight, turning around to see Griddys crumbled to the floor, buildings on fire and people lying dead.

“What happened?” Locking eyes with the boy, you hoped he had an answer.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. How long were you down there?”

“I think since last night,” Your eyes started to water as you spoke, looking at the smashed up Griddy’s sign lying on the floor. “I went to get some ice from the freezer and next thing I knew there was all these bangs going off, like bombs.” You mimicked an explosion with your hands before continuing. “Just before I could try and open the freezer door, a shockwave from something big hitting, I got thrown back and went unconscious.”

“Shit.”

“I’m y/n, I think we might be sticking around each other for a while.”

“Five.” He stuck out his hand, a sad smile on his face.

It was hard fending for yourselves, you were lucky that Five had some survival skills but even with some skills, it was hard. Two teenagers should never be left to fend for themselves, let alone be left as the last ones alive. You taught each other some vital things however, you teaching Five how to cook with limited food and supplies and other small things you’d picked up in your life and Five taught you how to fight and protect yourself, you were quite the team.

Slowly, you became more than a team, more than just two people trying to survive. As the years went on, you were surviving for each other, Five was trying to get the maths right so you could go back together, stop the apocalypse together and live happily, together. No label could describe your relationship but at the same time there was no need to label the relationship when there was only the two of you in the world, it was something special just for you two, the world was yours.

He knew everything about you, your job, favourite movie and book, how you liked greek mythology and the stars. On a night, you’d lie looking at the stars, running your hand through his hair and telling him about a different Greek God and their relation to the stars.

“And that one-” You stopped dead in your tracks, the moon was full but something wasn’t right with it, a part of it was missing. “Five, a part of the moon is missing.”

“Huh?” He squinted his eyes to look at the moon. “Holy shit.”

Now it was just a game of determining how the moon broke, if it was the moon that truly caused the apocalypse. You had plenty of time to think about it as Five worked on his equation to get you both back home. He’d been working on it for years, you weren’t sure how many years had past but you were both much older now, more mature and smart, even if you did have to educate yourselves using whatever books you could find.

A heat wave wracked through the area, fatiguing you and Five during your travels. You’d walked for miles in the blistering heat, there was a welcoming sight of shade next to an upstanding building which was a rare sight. Gratefully, you move into the shade and rest your back against the tall wall, noticing all the exposed beam poles, dangerously hanging exposed above.

But you’d run out of luck, it was bound to happen eventually, almost as if in slow motion the wall gave out behind you and down came the beams, piercing right through you. Everything was numb yet your eyes were open rivers, the memories of you and Five flashed before your eyes, he was your whole life, the love of your life and you ruined it just as quickly as it started. Five was right next to you, begging you to keep living yet you couldn’t hear him as everything went blurry.

“I’ll wait for you in the past Five, just don’t forget to come get me, okay?” You never heard an answer just the ever deafening ringing that consumed your mind as it went blank, all you could make out was him sat right next to you, saying something but you weren’t sure what. Weakly, you raised your hand to his cheek. “I love you.” You spoke, then everything went black.

Work was always slow on the weekdays, with most people being at work it made for a quiet and relaxing shift. A chime echoed through the diner, signalling a new customer. Smiling, you were met face to face with a boy around your age, almost looking at you in awe.

“Hi, how can I help?” Your pen was poised ready to write down his order.

“Black coffee, please.” He seemed nervous, you just smiled and went to get his coffee, coming back and pouring it in front of him. “I like your bracelet, it’s the constellation for Gaia, right? The Goddess of the earth?”

“Wow, yeah,” You smiled to yourself before locking eyes with him. “You know your stuff.”

“I had a friend, a long time ago,” taking the mug, he held it in both his hands as he talked. “They taught me all about the different constellations and their relation to the Gods.” He took a sip.

“I think I’d get along swell with your friend.” You leant against the counter, you felt a wave of deja vu as you spoke to him, he seemed so familiar but you were certain you hadn’t met him before.

“I haven’t seen them in years, maybe I could be the next best thing. I’m Five.” He held out his hand.

Gently, you took it. “I’m y/n.”

As soon as you released his grip, the bell rang again and in came people in black suits and guns, all pointing at Five. Just before you were going to speak Five cut you off.

“Duck.”

Shots ricocheted around the diner as you dropped to the floor behind the counter, frozen in fear you couldn’t move. You didn’t even want to know what was going on behind you, you just kept your eyes firmly shut, hoping it would all be some big dream that you’ll wake up from. As soon as the shooting had stopped you felt a pair of hands on yours.

“Don’t move.” It was Five, a sudden sickening feeling came over you followed by a wave of disotatation. When you open your eyes you’re in an unfamiliar room with Five, the boy you’d met mere minutes ago. “Please hear me out, I can explain everything.”

So you listened and tried to take everything in, the apocalypse, you surviving, building a life with Five and being essentially the last people on earth, then you died. It was overwhelming, the entire situation but one thing struck you, is there any proof?

“Can you prove it? Prove that any of this happened and that you’re not just crazy.” He sighed.

“Promise you won’t freak out?” Once you nodded, he handed you a picture, a picture of you and him but older. “After about 3 years of walking, we found a polaroid camera that only had one film left so we took a picture together.” It was most definitely the both of you in that photo, smiling behind a wasteland behind you.

“I also have this.” He pulled out a silver chain and handed it to you, it was your bracelet. “It’s one of a kind right? You’re grandad made it for you.” He was right, there was only ever one of these bracelets but he had the exact same one.

“So we were the last ones standing?” He nodded. “Cool.” It was not cool at all, it was terrifying.

“I’m going to stop the apocalypse, y/n, but I can’t do it without you. I can’t lose you again.”

You stare at the items in your hand before locking eyes with him. “Okay, me and you, we’re gonna stop this. I promise.”

#number 5 #number 5 x reader #number 5 imagine #number 5 fluff #number five #number five headcanon #number five fluff #number five imagine #number five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff

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beomglocks · 4 years

Text

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: two ,,,, next chapter / previous chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you’re forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 4.2K (was in a writing mood)

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"we're alive, you're alive, it's gonna be ok."

usually, when people say those words, everything ends up going completely wrong. the phrase gets jinked and turned over on its head making the situation worse. in your case, that didn't happen. if anything the situation got better somehow.

"after we met in the hall i headed to the gym to get the bat you suggested," beomgyu explains softly. you and him were seated on one of the benches in the locker room.

after what happened earlier with the zombie, you distanced yourself from yeonjun and taehyun who were currently exploring the locker room for other resources. luckily, none of the other zombies outside knew you all were in here so it was safe to say you were in the clear for now.

"actually if it wasn't for you, i'd probably be dead," he laughs looking down at his hands. you noticed there was a lot of blood on them but didn't bother to ask where it came from. after all, you all seemed to be in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. "i could say the same," you chuckle. you honestly don't have to energy to talk but you figure a new face to converse with who isn't someone you despise is nice.

"no but really," he suddenly turns serious. "if it wasn't for you, i would've never gone to the gym in the first place. i probably would've been turned into one of those monsters while in the hallway, unsuspecting." you don't argue with him. if he thinks you saved his life then so be it. "i'm grateful seriously," he mentions softly. you look up at him bewildered, "you're grateful? if anything i'm the one who should be grateful," you laugh a genuine laugh this time hoping to lift the gloomy mood. "if it wasn't for you i would be the living dead right now," you smile bitterly.

you can feel him staring at you but you don't look at him. you don't want this conversation to turn into a battle of who saved who and thankfully he doesn't continue it.

"uh i-i think just last week we were working on a lab together," he scratches the back of his head nervously. you lean back on the bench, "oh yeah, i remember. wow it's crazy how things can change so drastically in a matter of days." you look around the locker room in thought, "i wonder what happened to everyone else, i mean how can something like this happen?" you continue.

he sighs, "i really don't know...like i said, i headed to the gym after we saw each other. everything seemed normal. i was in the batting room looking for a metal bat then i hear the locker room door burst open. i figured the baseball team was about to start practice so i walked out while trying to hide the bat under my shirt." he looks at you sheepishly as you laugh at his attempt at stealing. "well one of the members of the team was in the corner of the locker room just scratching his arm like crazy! i'm talking deep wounds with blood dri-" you cut him off, grimacing. "r-right well, i asked him what happened and all he told me was not to go out there. i was confused so i look into the gym and see people eating each other than coming back to life and doing the same to others."

he closes his eyes but winces as if remembering a bad memory, "it was crazy, i was so starstruck that i didn't even realize the guy from before had already turned. it's a good thing i heard him making those weird noises or else i would've turned too. unfortunately, i had to kill him using the bat." your eyes fall on the bruised and bloody bat by his side. it must've taken beomgyu a lot of hits to figure out where exactly to aim to kill. "how did that other one that attacked me get in?" you ask.

"well apparently the one that attacked me wasn't the only one to come in earlier. he must've been hiding or something," beomgyu sighs, looking at you again. "look y/n, im really glad yo-"

"we didn't find anything useful other than the bats and some paddings," yeonjun strolls into the main locker room with taehyun looking dejected behind him. you glance at them then look back at the ground. you're not sure why you're angry at them, it's not like they could've done anything at the moment. suddenly the sad realization hits you: yeonjun is a self-centered asshole who doesn't care about anyone and taehyun barely knows you so why would he risk his life.

beomgyu mutters something silently to himself but you don't hear it. "so what are we gonna do now? we can't just stay here forever," yeonjun sits on the bench opposite of yours with his arms perched on his knees. you stay silent, not really wanting to talk anymore. beomgyu ruffles his hair, "let's see... we have bats and the baseball teams protective gear somewhere around here but I don't think going around killing all the zombies in that gym is a good idea. we will definitely not make it out alive."

taehyun sighs angrily, "damn it, we can't just stay here. we're bound to get hungry or worse; wanna use the bathroom. we need to find a way out to find more people. i still believe we're better in numbers." he notices you haven't pitched any ideas yet so he looks at you expectingly.

when you don't answer, yeonjun groans, "cmon y/n how long are you gonna keep acting like this?" you look up and see he's looking at you with a bored expression. "look sorry we couldn't help or whatever but honestly what did you expect us to do? no offense but you're acting like a child." you don't wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing that what he said got to you so you bite your lip and glance at the ground.

"yeonjun when you put 'no offense' in front of an offensive statement it doesn't make it any less offensive,” beomgyu rolls his eyes. "plus, they almost died. do you really not have any empathy oh wait i forgot you're a selfish jackass who probably wouldn't think twice about throwing us to the wolves." in all the time you've known choi beomgyu, which is a couple of months roughly, you don't think he's ever stood up for himself or others for that matter.

"beomgyu," you warn silently. you guys already have enough problems as it is, you don't need a fight breaking out. "oh look who's getting bold," yeonjun chides. "you save one person and suddenly you're the hero of the story," he rolls his eyes. "news flash, y/n doesn't like you."

beomgyu's eyes widen and you see his ears turn red. "shut up yeonjun," he says through gritted teeth. "oh yeah y/n by the way beomgyu has an embarrassingly massive cru-" before yeonjun can finish his sentence he's on the floor with beomgyu on top of him.

"guys!" taehyun shouts. he wanted to break up the fight before the zombies outside were alerted. none of the boys on the floor were listening though and you had a huge wave of deja vu hit you.

unfortunately, this wasn't like the last fight you witnessed because yeonjun was far stronger than his opponent this time. although beomgyu had the advantage of throwing the first punch, yeonjun had the advantage of actually being able to fight. "y/n doesn't like you! they'll never like you no matter what you do!" yeonjun shouts in between punches. "fuck you!" beomgyu retorts, trying to shield himself. you see taehyun conflicted on whether or not he should break up the fight since his wrist is still damaged.

"guys stop!" at this point, both boys are in a blind rage. both shouting at each other and throwing wild punches. you all hadn't heard the banging on the locker room door. until it was too much to handle. the lock was busted open in a flash causing all of you to whip your heads towards the door.

the force of all the zombie's dog piling on the door after hearing the commotion of the living on the other side must've been too much for the door to handle. "run run RUN!" taehyun grabs you and bolts towards the second doors of the locker room leading towards the girl's side. you didn't even have time to look back and see if yeonjun and beomgyu had time to get off the floor and run because before you know it you're in the hallway again.

"we have to get to the first room we see," taehyun pants. you both run past all the strangler zombies in the hallway and you're glad taehyun takes the brunt of the force. since he's the one that picked up some of the equipment his arms are paddled so it's fairly easy to take some force from the zombies jumping at a chance to bite him. you run close behind him grasping his hand tighter than you'd ever held anything.

you suddenly remember all the times you'd scream at a character in a horror movie when they trip and fall. sympathy rushes through you because it definitely wasn't easy.

"in here!" taehyun rushes towards the nearest room and barges through it. it took a bit of force since there seemed to be stuff blocking it from the inside but you both managed to get through it before the horde caught you. as soon as you get in the room you heave for air, you'd seriously never run that fast in your life. you turn around towards the now-closed door and to your dismay, beomgyu and yeonjun are not there.

"damn it we got split up," you mumble through deep breaths. you sincerely hope they're both ok. you turn back around but before you could get a chance to discuss with taehyun you see he has his hands up in surrender. "wha-" that's when you hear a gun click.

your eyes widen when you see soobin appear from the shadows of the room with a gun in his hands. that's when you realize where you are, the principal's office.

"soobin!" you're confused as to why he has a gun pointed towards you guys but you're glad he's alive. "get any closer and you'll end up like the principal," soobin spits. you finally look towards the floor where the principal's desk is located and see what looks like a body but it's unmoving.

"oh my god," you mumble. "dude what the hell," taehyun steps forward and soobin turns the gun towards him. "get away from me! i don't know if you're infected or not!" you're very worried because soobin looks like he's not mentally capable of wielding a gun at this moment.

you finally survey him and the room. his hair is an absolute mess and he has more blood on his face and body then you remember. his clothes look pretty normal except for the scratches and blood on them. they didn't seem to go that deep just enough to rip his clothes. the room on the other hand was a total mess. the bookshelf was on the floor and the chair in front of the principal's desk was flipped over, there were books all over the floor and the couch that was used for lounging was turned upside down. that's probably what was blocking the door.

"soobin," you warn. he points the gun at you. "we're not infected." you hope you sound calm. you don't want to give him a reason to think you're a zombie. "there's no way," he mumbles. "everyone's dead! there's no way you guys made it out alive."

"it's true!" taehyun encourages. "yeonjun, beomgyu, y/n and i are alive from what we know." soobin eyes you both, "where are they then?" you sigh dejectedly, "we got split up."

"look, we promise we're not infected! we haven't gotten bit or scratched or anything, please put the gun down," you step closer to him and when he doesn't wave it at you you grab it from him and throw it on the floor.

soobin steps back towards the wall and sinks down to the floor holding his head in his hands. "damn it! i hate this!" he mumbles. "what the hell happened in here?" taehyun asks. he walks towards the principal's body and cringes.

soobin sighs, "he was already one of those monsters when i got here, it was a struggle trying not to get eaten but i found a gun hidden under the desk. i guess it's a gun meant for self defense so that's what i used it for." you look down, processing his words. he was in here alone with a zombie. you're amazed at his ability to stay alive in such a tight situation.

"do you have any wounds, we have a first aid kit," you motion towards the bag on taehyun's back. he gives you a grateful smile, "thanks." you take the bag from taehyun while he watches you closely. he feels weird but he can't explain it. he doesn't want to watch you patch soobin up but he doesn't say it out loud. he decides to busy himself with looking around mindlessly instead of thinking about that.

in the meantime, you kneel down to help soobin. he watches you take out everything from the first aid kit. "sorry," he bites his lip. you chuckle dryly. this is one of those times when soobin looks and acts soft. you've only interacted with him a couple of times before with the extracurricular activities and fundraisers your school held. you knew he could be nice when he wanted to, he just got into fights a lot.

seeing him up close made you realize why so many people in your school fawned over him. he had looks that could rival yeonjun's. the only thing differentiating them was that soobin was actually kind of nice. "it's fine, you were scared," you say softly. instead of responding he opts for watching you silently. he's seen you around school and during the fundraisers and whatnot but never thought much about it. were you always this cute? sure, you had remnants of blood on your face but it didn't seem to take away from your looks.

he shakes his head at the thought. he shouldn't be thinking that about you, he barely knows anything about you other than your name and that you were seemingly willing to go out your way to help people. you give him a confused face and he just looks down at the ground. you cant tell what he's thinking and don't really dwell on it. you wet the cotton ball in your hand with alcohol, "this might sting." he doesn't say anything seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"god, why are these boys so weird towards you," you think to yourself. you gently dab the cotton ball on the cut on his face and he flinches violently. his hand flies up to grab your wrist and he looks at you with wide eyes. "i told you it was gonna sting," you shake his hand from you and sit back waiting for him to regain himself. "sorry i didn't hear you. i wasn't ready for that," he groans, cracking his neck. "ok now."

after you finish patching soobin up, which including him flinching a lot and you telling him to calm down, you let him rest on the floor. taehyun has been seated on top of the principal's desk this whole time just spaced out, looking out of the window. you join him but wince when you see someone on the floor getting eaten. you turn back to him but he's still looking outside.

"i don't think calling for help is gonna work," he says emotionlessly. you sit on the desk beside him. "hey don't say that, there could be people alive out there." you sound like you're trying to reassure yourself more than him. "what if there's no one?" he turns to look at you. "this is so messed up y/n." you see the unshed tears hidden in his eyes and you wanna comfort him but also don't wanna make it awkward. you opt for taking his damaged hand in yours and rubbing it with care.

"i know the situation is really messed up and everything but so far we've managed to save like three people including ourselves. if we keep going maybe we'll be safe and find anyone out there that can help us," he watches you trace his bandaged wrist like you're in a trance. a sudden realization hits him out of nowhere: you're cute... and super caring. he bites his lip, changing the subject, "sorry for not doing anything, back then."

you look up at him and give him a tight lip smile, "it's fine. i guess i might've been expecting too much from you guys, i mean we didn't even have anything on us. beomgyu was the only one with a weapon." you're not mad anymore since he did manage to get you both to safety afterward. you sigh, letting go of his hand. you don't notice him visibly deflate. "i hope yeonjun and beomgyu are ok. i didn't get to see what happened after the door busted open."

taehyun lays back on the desk and covers his face with his arm, "i'm sure they're fine." you hear a groan from somewhere in the room and you flinch, instinctively shuffling closer to taehyun. he bites back a smile from under his arm. you look around and sigh when it's just soobin trying to stand up again. "what are you guys doing?" he goes to sit next to you but there isn't any more space on the desk since you're sitting and taehyun's laying down. he frowns and goes for the principal's seat instead.

"just looking outside, feeling hopeful...others hopeless," you smile at him, hoping to lift the mood. soobin hums, spinning around in the swivel chair, "i'm pretty hopeless." you frown and suddenly soobin feels guilty that he made you upset. "i mean i'm just saying that since i saw a bunch of innocent people in the hall get eaten alive, that's all. there might be some hope outside of the school."

there's a silence that falls upon you three and you're not sure what to say. thankfully soobin speaks up and he hopes it doesn't sound awkward when he says it, "how long have you two been...together?" this causes taehyun to sit up, "what do you mean by that?" soobin raises his hands in surrender. "i was just wondering when is it that you two met up."

"yeonjun and i found him in the nurse's office. that's when everything went to shit," you mumble. "yeonjun? that prick is still alive?" soobin scoffs. "hey, he may be an asshole but his plan got us out of that office," you chide. taehyun stares at you, "you're standing up for him when he called you childish and started that fight?" he says quietly.

"what's wrong with standing up for yeonjun? i know he's a dick but i think he might actually be helpful. he could've left us back at the nurse's office but he decided to stick around. that's commendable, i think," you don't even know why you're suddenly sticking up for him when he hasn't really given you a reason too. maybe it's because you feel bad that he's not actually here to defend himself.

"great another one," you hear soobin mumble under his breath. "another what?" you narrow your eyes at him. "another person that only exists to suck up to yeonjun. here i was thinking i might actually like you," he chuckles flatly. "excuse me?" you can feel embarrassment and anger bubbling up in you.

soobin and taehyun look at you with wide eyes. "let me get one thing straight, i don't live to suck up to anyone, especially with the way things are. if you have a problem with me sticking up for people who aren't here to defend themselves then i'll leave. i don't care if you like me or not," with that you walk up to the door. the hallways seem pretty clear so you go to open the door.

"y/n," taehyun whisper shouts at you. "don't go out there alone, i'll go with you." he frantically moves to pack up his bag once again. you see soobin move to stand up and walk over to you too but you remember what he said. "i don't want anyone of you around me, i'll find other people on my own. wouldn't want you to think i'm sucking up to everyone who tries to help me."

"that wasn't what i meant, i just- fuck y/n- wait," he reaches out towards you but you close the door quickly. you start walking down the hallway, not really knowing where to go. "this was a very bad idea," you think to yourself. so far there's no zombies in the hall you're currently on but you can't shake the fear that's lingering behind you.

you figure taehyun and soobin didn't follow after you or just didn't get a chance to see where you went. you kind of hope they stay put at the principal's office for when you come back with more people. you're pulled from your thoughts quite literally when you're yanked into the janitor's closet.

you go to scream but a hand covers your mouth. you blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust to the dimness of the tiny space. this is a tiny closet only meant for brooms and mops so your body is very pressed up against whoever is in here with you.

you look up and see yeonjun smiling down at you. he has blood all over his face from the fight that kind of looks like he tried to wipe it off but failed. "oh my god yeonjun," you whisper. you're not sure why your being quiet but you don't want any potential zombies passing by to hear you two.

"hey y/n," he whispers. "how the hell are you alive?" you ask him. "well considering the fact that taehyun is a baseball player which makes him a fast runner, beomgyu and i couldn't keep up so we went into hiding in the girls locker room since it was dark. the zombies followed you guys so once we heard no more commotion we left. beomgyu didn't wanna hang around me so he went around tryna find you." yeonjun rolls his eyes at this.

"you should've stuck with him asshole. im worried about his wellbeing," you bite your lip in worry. you really don't want anything to happen to anyone you've met so far. yeonjun keeps looking down at you, "y/n."

you look back up at him and see his face riddled with worry, "am i really that unbearable, that people would rather die than be around me?" you shake your head viciously. "what? don't say that! i mean sure you're a dick but anyone can change."

you both don't break eye contact for a moment and it kind of starts to feel stuffy in the closet. yeonjun suddenly speaks up, "do you like beomgyu?" your eyes widen and you start to feel heat rise up your neck and cheeks. "n-no, well i don't know...yet. i-i really don't know. i guess he and i are friends and maybe if we talked mor-" in that moment of you stuttering over your words, yeonjun leans down, as best as he can in such a tight space, to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

your eyes widen and you realize you aren't really doing anything so you decide to kiss back. you're so confused right now but decide to let the moment flow. he nibbles on your bottom lip and you let your mouth drop open for him to use his tongue. he somehow manages to push his body closer to yours and wraps his arms around your waist. the kiss isn't rough or needy and is nice but it feels wrong and weird, especially given the circumstances.

you pull away and lick your lips. yeonjun tries to chase your lips but you push him back gently. "why are you kissing me," you ask him shyly. "do you even like me?" this is the part where he hurts you. you wouldn't say you had strong feelings for yeonjun but you did think he was good looking. even though he was mostly mean to everyone you hoped he would change and be a good link to the tiny group you all formed.

"i think so, i don't really know yet to be honest," he answers you. you nod and sigh, satisfied with his answer towards you for now. "sorry for what i said earlier. you weren't being childish, i'm sorry i couldn't help you back then, and im sorry for starting that fight."

you reassure him that its fine but you still feel a weird pit in your stomach worrying about beomgyu. you hope he's ok.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

taglist: @fxd-skz , @jinniehyunjin , @foreignswagger17 , @ bluemoonnightmare , @srcasticking-main , @shuichi-sama (send ask to be added!)

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

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Deja Vu

I spent some time thinking about Remus having the superpower to see the future and this happened, whoops. Might write more if I get some free time.

Summary: Remus sees the future and it often involves Roman’s death.

Words: 2284

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @lunasfriendgabby @never-end1ng-suffering @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

TW: Death, attempted murder, not being believed/listened to, unhealthy sibling relationships,

Read on Ao3 || My general Writing Masterlist

Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman the first time he sees his brother get run over by a car.

He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman and its the middle of the day in summer and Roman has on bright red sneakers that match his favorite jacket. They’re on their front lawn because Mom said they were being too loud and they can’t decide on a game to play because Roman wants to play Wizards and Knights and Remus wants to play Escape from Monkey Island. Roman calls him a name, a mean one, a childish, dumb, cruel one that would mean nothing in a year, a month, a week, a minute. Remus picks up the ball by his knees and throws it as far as he can, because he doesn’t want to be the wizard who fights the knights again.

The ball hits the ground, bounces twice and drops off the curb right into the street.

And the teenager driving the silver sedan is going twenty over the speed limit because they still believe nothing bad can ever happen to them.

Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman.

Roman is on the ground and not moving and not breathing.

The silver sedan screeches to a stop ten feet past, ten feet too late, ten feet. And everyone is screaming: The teenager who just ran over Roman, the neighbor who had been mowing their lawn, Mom who came sprinting from the house.

And then Remus is eight and only ten minutes younger than Roman because Roman is dead in the middle of the road.

That’s the first time.

When he blinks, the vision is gone and Roman is in front of him calling him a mean, childish name and Remus has the ball in his hand ready to throw and a grey sedan is turning down their street going far too fast--

And Remus stumbles back and falls off his feet. His butt hits the ground hard and before he even knows what he's doing he's sobbing.

Roman twiddles over him with a bunch dumb, stupid apologies because he thinks that Remus is crying over name calling.

Not because he saw himself throw a ball towards the road and Roman died, or he threw it softer and Roman was quick enough that he survived to hear the ambulance arrive but not to make it to the hospital, or he threw it towards the house and it broke a window and Remus got grounded, or he threw it at Roman and it left a bright red mark that Remus got sent to his room for, or he dropped it and it fell in the gutter and Roman didn't talk to him for a week--

And Remus doesn't know how to explain it to anyone. He doesn't stop sobbing until Roman is grounded for making him cry and he's bundled under a mountain of blankets with Mom right next to him holding him tightly and whispering softly in his hair. When Dad comes home and joins the hug, he asks Mom what happened and she can’t answer any better than Remus can.

They talk about keeping an eye on him, about doctors, and therapy and the words quite literally go over his head. Every time that Remus closes his eyes sees the bumper of the grey sedan, and his head echoes with the sound of his brother’s body hitting the ground again and again and again.

He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman when he first sees his brother die.

There’s no explanation for it. No reason why. But it happens again and again and again: Roman goes running around the pool and slips on the concrete turning the water red, Remus gives him a playful shove off the play set and he hits the ground just wrong enough that he never gets back up, they leave their shoes on the stairs one time too many and Remus finally knows why Mom is always so insistent that they not do that.

Mom and Dad take him to the nice doctor, who tells him these pills will help him get better.

They don’t.

Even though he wishes they would so badly. He clings to the hope that every time they change the number of pills or the amount of them or the type of them that he’ll stop seeing his brother die or get hurt or cry.

(Its not just his brother: Dad falls off the ladder while putting up Christmas lights, Mom gets scared by a spider and hits her head on the cabinets, the next door neighbor and his wife get into a fist fight, his teacher chokes on a sandwich,---)

By the time he’s ten he knows the truth: He isn’t going to get better. There are no magic pills that will save him, no amount screaming or crying or begging that will make the visions stop coming, nothing.

“Remus!” Mom cries frustrated, when he won’t let her leave for work on time because there’s ice on the deck and she’s going to fall. “You’re too old to be doing this!”

Too old to be crying about every time his family gets hurt, too old to be worried about things that can happen, might happen, won’t happen. He’s too old for anyone to believe him when he says he knows whats going to happen.

In the middle of the night, he wonders what will happen if he runs away.

And that’s when it starts: the vision of Remus in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and sneaking down the stairs only to be caught by Dad who was up for a midnight snack; the vision of him in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and struggling to get his window open, which wakes up Roman who starts crying loudly and Dad comes running; the vision of Remus packing nothing and running down the stairs to hug Dad; the vision of Remus rolling over and going back to sleep--

That’s when it starts to make sense.

Remus is ten and eleven minutes younger than Roman when he realizes he can pick and choose what vision he wants to happen of the millions of ones he can see all in his head in that instant.

When Remus pulls Roman back before he gets scratched by the neighborhood wild cat he smiles and tells Roman, “I’ve seen it before!”

“Oh! Like Dejavu,” Roman says and Remus doesn’t correct him.

He stays closer though, watching and wondering what happens if “x”, and preventing bad things from coming to them. When the seventh grade bullies coming looking for them, Remus convinces Roman to follow him to the theater room to hang out; when there’s the pop quiz that no one studied for he memorizes the answers from the version of reality where he steals steals the smartest kids paper; when it snows Remus doesn’t shove a snowball down Roman’s back because he knows that it will cause him to get sick.

“Hey Roman!” Some kid in eighth grade says during lunch, “Wanna hang out?”

And Roman who is fourteen and only eleven minutes older than Remus grins brightly, “We’d love to!”

And Remus sees every version of how the conversation goes: Every version where that nameless senseless kid shrinks back and awkwardly admits the invitation doesn’t extend to Roman’s crazy weird brother, where Roman gets angry and mad and destroys his own reputation, where Roman falls to peer pressure and admits Remus is pretty weird---

“Nah!” Remus says before anything can actually happen, “I don’t wanna hang out! Ro, you go ahead.” (Because he’s seen ahead and knows that Roman comes back bursting with excitement and happiness and really thats all Remus has ever wanted for him, isn’t it?)

Even if the whispers through the highschool begin because of it. Remus can take a few rumors, a few snide remarks, a few isolations, to make his brother happy.

“He’s on drugs you know,” One girl says once Roman is out of earshot. Always out of earshot. “Totally crazy.”

“The way he looks at everyone is creepy.”

“Sometimes he acts like he already knows what people are gonna say and its annoying.”

Remus never felt the need to experiment with his power that much.

“Just leave me alone, Remus!” Roman yells when they are seventeen years old and only eleven minutes apart.

“I’m not gonna let you go to that party!” Remus yells back.

“You don’t control me!”

“You’re going to do something stupid!” Remus snaps back, “You’re going to get drunk, and then drugged and then--”

“I’m not gonna get drunk! I’m not even gonna drink!” Roman throws back.

“Yes you are!” Remus snarls because he’s seen it time and time again, the way that Roman loves attention the way that he becomes pliable the second an older boy looks at him and compliments his hair and the second he’s convinced to have just one drink. Remus has seen the way his own knuckles look bruised and broken against the skin of those college kids that had looked so cool, the way that metal handcuffs feel as he’s loaded into the back of a police car with the sounds of two ambulance sirens wailing over the music.

He’s seen this, seen the way it ends if Roman goes to the party with or without Remus.

He’s always been able to see the way it goes.

“Shut up!” Roman yells.

And that--- that is not what he’s supposed to say.

“Shut up, Remus!” Roman yells, again. “You’re just mad because I got invited and you didn’t! I’m sorry I have friends, Remus! I’m sorry they like me more than you! Maybe if you weren’t such a freak you would have been invited too!”

Remus doesn’t know what to say. It feels a lot like he was shoved on stage without being told what show they’re preforming.

Roman shoves by him, which is not something that Remus saw him do in any of the visions. Why hadn’t he seen this version of the future? Why wasn’t this going as expected?

“Roman--”

Roman whips around to face him, and his red in the face, bursting with angry and emotions and Remus feels himself get angry too.

“I don’t need you!” Roman spits like hellfire is in his veins.

“Yes you do!” Remus shouts back, because he can’t even count the number of times that Roman almost got hurt this week. There’s a terrible taste in the back of his throat, like fresh squeezed limes and hot sauce that makes his head pound. It makes him want to laugh, want to cry, want to pick something up and throw it, but his future visions are all messed up and nothing works--

“You can’t see the future, Remus!” Roman says and it sounds like he’s wanted to say it for a long time.

Remus is seventeen years old and only eleven minutes younger than Roman, when oh.

When he realizes that he’s far too old to cry over watching Roman die, far too weird to get any friends at school, far too much to keep having Roman believe him when he says anything.

It’s Deja Vu. Its Coincidence. Its a trick and a joke and nothing more than that.

Oh.

Roman doesn’t know a single thing about him, doesn’t know how much time Remus put into making sure everything great happens for him, doesn’t know how much of himself Remus gave up for Roman to be happy. He doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know.

And Remus, with his blood boiling because Roman was his brother and clearly he didn’t feel as strongly about Remus as Remus felt about him, wonders what would happen if he punched Roman in the jaw--

They end up fighting on the floor in the hall between their rooms, Mom and Dad come running and Remus gets grounded while Roman gets to go out to the party with a black eye.

--if he shoved Roman down the stairs--

Roman screams as his arm breaks and he spends the night in the ER, Remus is grounded and Roman stops talking to him for a very long time.

--if he grabbed the snowglobe on Roman’s desk and slammed it into Roman’s head--

He topples to the ground, screaming glass and silver sparkles shatter all around them like pretty little snowflakes, Mom and Dad come running and the screaming doesn’t stop.

--if he fit his hands around Roman’s neck and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed--

Roman claws at Roman’s hands, but he’s too off balance, too surprised, too unprepared. He gasps for air and it takes longer in the real life than it does in the movies for Roman’s pretty brown eyes to roll back in his head and his pulse to flutter to a stop and Remus keeps hold him for three minutes more before he lets go and Roman is… Roman was… suddenly there’s only ten minutes between them, nine, eight.

Remus digs his nails into the doorframe of Roman’s room. He laughs.

“Fine,” Remus chokes on his laughter, his mouth tasting like his own stomach acid. “Fine, go to the party, Ro. I’m done caring.”

“Good!” Roman yells.

The door slams in Remus’s face and he can’t stop laughing about it. He drags his fingers through his hair and laughs all the way to his room, gasping for breath as he empties his backpack of school work and notebooks and everything.

Remus is seventeen.

And he runs away from home.

(Part two)

#sanders sides #Remus Sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic remus #superpowers #deja vu au #attempted murder #talk of deaths #but really this is remus #I thought far too long about remus being able to see the future okay #I have a whole plot figured out for this

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evqnbuckley · 4 years

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Chapter 1: Hopeless

Okay so i wrote my thoughts on what I wanted the finale to be and this got out of hand...this is like almost if not 6k and i’m not even finished. If this is popular enough I’ll continue to post on here but I’m gonna continue to update on ao3! @princesscas

Sam awakens from his nightmare, disoriented. The visions of seeing himself grow old, having a family and dying feel all too real. The beginning of his nightmare is fading and somewhat fuzzy but he remembers Dean making an appearance. He remembers seeing himself fight alongside his brother, killing some vampires, a normal hunt. Then his memory clears and the image of his brother impaled against a wooden pole catches his breath.

He wipes a hand across his face, trying to erase the images of Dean saying goodbye, of Dean's hand dropping as he took his last breath, and the image of lighting his own brother's pyre.

Sam pulls the covers off and walks toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The bunker is quiet, peaceful even. He still hasn't gotten used to calling it home, not really. The thing about a home is, four walls don't constitute it. Family is similar. It's not based on who you're related to but who loves you and has your back. Family, a home, whatever they are things you build around you. He had learned that long ago.

The wooden floors creak as he walks through the library. The silence is deafening yet comforting. It's a reminder that, for once, the world isn't ending. The linoleum sends shivers down his spine as he enters the kitchen. Sam replays the nightmare in his head while he downs a glass of water from the sink. The images slowly become distorted and misplaced in his memory. He eventually cannot picture it in his mind.

Sighing, Sam places the glass in the sink and walks back to his room. His feet make a pit-pat noise, approaching the hallway. Dean's door is cracked open slightly with faint light seeping through. Sam turns toward the door and peers in. His face softens, taking in the scene. Dean is cuddling a pillow adorned with a worn, rough, blue pillow case. The light emits from a lone lamp on his desk. Some type of paper for a mechanic position sits atop a few books from the library. Sam eyes the paperwork, puzzled. Dean never told me he got a job. Underneath, one of the books has a bookmark in three different places. There are a few crumpled up papers on and around the floor. Sam picks one up and unravels it.

Cas I know you're in the empty and you probably can't hear me….why did you do it? Why didn't you tell me about the deal before? I know I messed up and Billie was about to kill us both but….we could have died together found another way.

Why didn't you tell me?

Sam picks up another one. This time it's the one closest to the trash can. The markings are a bit sharper than the paper before. Almost more angry. It appears some words are smudged but still legible.

I try to move on and put on a brave face for Sammy. He needs to know now that Chuck is gone we can move on. We have to. I have tried to find a way to bring you back Cas. None of the books are fucking useful. I can't read Enochian. I don't even know if Enochian text is the key to saving you. I've tried contacting Rowena but i think she's busy. I'm at my wits end. I haven't gotten much sleep to be honest. As I'm writing this I have looked through 28 books all based on portals to other dimensions, hell, sacrificial rituals and reverse rituals. Even Astral projecting. I don't know what to do….

Sam swallows past the dry lump caught in his throat. He glances at Dean, making sure he's still asleep. Dean briefly shifts, pulling the pillow closer. Sam relaxes and picks up one more crumpled up paper. This one appears fresh, as if Dean wrote it tonight.

I tried praying to the angels. They didn't listen. No one is listening. Jack isn't even listening. He took himself out of the story, I know but this is you I'm talking about. How can he just sit by while you're suffering. I guess I'm on my own.

Why did you say that now?

The last sentence confuses Sam. He burrows his eyebrows as he studies the three entries. Dean is searching for a way to save Cas. To bring him back. And he didn't tell me? Sam quietly crunches the papers back up and places them back where he found them. Dean doesn't move. As Sam switches the lamp off, he feels the heaviness of the dark engulf him. I have to talk to Dean tomorrow.

Dean rolls over as the aroma of burnt bacon fills his room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. Realizing that Sam is about to burn the bunker down, he slips on his robe and jogs to the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Well good morning to you too," Sam replies a bit offended. He's flipping bacon as Dean yanks the tongs out of his grip. "What- I am making breakfast. Can I not make breakfast?"

"I don't know what you think you're making but it definitely, definitely ain't breakfast," Dean smarts. He trashes the burnt bacon and starts a new batch. "Sit. No, why don't you make some coffee."

"Already did. Here ya go," Sam slides Dean's mug across the island, "your highness," Sam says under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, me too," Sam perks up. "I think I found something that screams our kinda thing. We should head there after we eat breakfast. It's not too long of a drive." Dean finishes as he places the cooked bacon on some paper towels and grins from ear to ear. Sam just watches as his brother starts on some scrambled eggs. This might be more challenging than I had hoped.

"So when you said our sorta thing you meant pie?"

"I meant pie," Dean confirms with a satisfied smirk. "Now, I'm gonna go eat me some of that pie."

"Didn't we-Dean we just had breakfa- nevermind," Sam gives in and follows Dean through the crowd.

Several families are participating in the pie fest. Some are gearing up to find out who can eat the most pie, who makes the best pumpkin pie, and some are just making whip cream pies and pieing each other. Sam observes those around him with a small smile. A life he desperately wants someday but knows he can't have. Or can I?

Dean approaches Sam with a big box and almost runs into some bystander. "Hey, watch it."

"What is that?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"I couldn't pick just one! Come on, Sammy we're at a pie fest. What do you take me for?"

"An idiot."

Dean ponders his answer and let's it slide. He picks up one of the pies and offers it to his brother. Sam declines. "Dude, you gotta at least try it."

"No, really I'm good."

"Alright, what is it? What's got you so down today?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Sam replies.

"No, see I know my baby brother. So I know that is your sad Sam face. Fess up, what's wrong?"

"I'm not-" Sam begins, but Dean gives him a look.

"I don't know. I'm just thinking about Cas, about Jack."

Dean's expression falls. He looks down and places the pie back in its spot. "Yea me too. I think about them too. Every day. But we have to move on, Sam. Live our lives. Or else that sacrifice, it will all be for nothing," Dean looks at Sam. "So help me finish this pie."

Dean reaches down for the same pie again but his face is met with a cold surface. Sam smothers the pumpkin pie in Dean's face, laughing. "You know what, I do feel better!"

Sam shakes his hand to free the whip cream, watching Dean rake the remainder of the pie off his chin with his fork. Suddenly, Sam's temples begin pulsing painfully and he has an immense sense of deja vu. His smile falters and he feels out of place. Almost, as if he's reliving this moment. It's similar to the feeling he had this morning.

"Hey, Sam. You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." He's not honestly sure if everything is okay.

Sam texts Eileen and tells her he wants to make up for the date they missed months ago. She agrees it has been too long and tonight would work for her. Sam doesn't want to make promises, as the day is still young, but they plan for their date tonight at 7. Dean teases Sam about it even though the two are already a couple. Saying things like, "don't do anything I wouldn't do" or "make sure you use protection." Sam just sighs and shakes his head.

It's 6:35 pm and nothing has come across the wire. Social media is quiet, so Sam texts Eileen that the date is a go. She replies five minutes later, ready to go and excited to see Sam. Dean offers to let Sam take the Impala out to pick Eileen up. For once in a long time, Sam is excited. When he reaches the garage door, Sam glances back at his brother and sees him nursing a brand new whiskey bottle. Sam frowns at the sight. Dean deserves to feel excited, to be happy. Sam will go on this date with Eileen, tell her about Cas, and they will come back to help Dean. Help Dean get his best friend back. Our best friend back .

Dean waves his brother off and slumps into the chair in the library. It's not very comfortable. In fact, the wooden back is digging into his thoracic spine and causing some pain. But it's better than the alternative. The alternative of thinking about what he's lost, who he's lost, and how he lost them. That pain will never go away. Right now I can focus on this acute pain and center my thoughts on it. Keep myself from sinking into the dark hole of nothing I've been trying to climb out of since I lost - since I lost

Dean finishes the whiskey bottle before Sam gets home and he's still not drunk enough. He rises from the chair and walks to the liquor cart. All the bottles are half empty or nothing but drops of whiskey, gathering at the bottom of the glass. He picks up one empty glass bottle and stares at it for several moments. His vision becomes distorted from the small glass textures, his left ear begins to ring from the silence as he falls into a trance like state. Then, a glint of sapphire reflects in the textured glass. It catches his eye; Dean swallows. Suddenly, he's thinking of Castiel. Cas. He's thinking of "I love you's" and "Goodbye, Dean" and black goo. He's thinking of how the image of his best friend disappearing into a black mass of nothing is seared in his memory forever. He's thinking of how he didn't get to say goodbye, or anything really, and now he never will.

He grimaces at the bottle, squeezes the neck so hard his knuckles blanche, and throws it across the room, into the kitchen. It lands by the island, shattering to pieces, with a deafening crash. Dean feels his eyes burning and hot tears gathering at the corners. Before he realizes, Dean is grabbing all the glass bottles and throwing them into the kitchen. In his fit of rage, Dean throws one bottle too high and it shatters against the side of the kitchen table. Glass spreads across the floor. He doesn't even register the intensity of the mess until one bottle knocks off another, shattering it at his feet. He stops throwing the bottles, breaking from his trance.

"I tried everything! I can't save you! There's nothing left! How could you do this to me, you son of a bitch," Dean cries. He places his hands on either side of his head, thinking. "Jack! How can you just leave us? We need you. Cas needs you! Fuck this all powerful, all knowing God bullshit. We're family!" Dean tosses the cart over. "Isn't that enough?" He pauses and glances around for a moment. Nothing. "Dammit, Jack. Why won't you answer my prayers? I need some help!" He cries out and slowly sits down. "I can't do this on my own," he whispers between his sniffles. He begs over and over again please please please in his head for a few moments. But he's met with silence like every other time. Dean accepts this and wipes his tears away, picks the cart up, grabs the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and picks up his mess. He can't have Sam see what a hypocrite he truly has become.

Dean cuts himself on a few lone pieces of glass, but it's nothing he can't handle. In fact, for a brief moment, the pain gives him something to focus on. He mindlessly watches the crimson slowly drain down the sink as he holds his palm under the running water. He wonders what it feels like to float down the water, through the pipes, through the darkness, into nothing. What is wrong with me? But that's where Cas is right now. A bunch of nothing. Dean grabs a hand towel and wraps it around his left hand before returning to the broom. The kitchen is just about clean. Within about 5 minutes, all the glass and spilled whiskey is gone. Almost as if it never happened. Dean places the broom and dustpan back in the corner and trudges through the hallways.

There is a secret stash of whiskey in his man cave that Dean hid for emergencies. And this constitutes an emergency. He walks to the wall, removes a Star Wars poster from the fifth movie, and pulls out a few bricks, revealing the beautiful brown bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not his favorite but Dean was in a rush when he bought it a couple of weeks ago before they defeated Chuck just in case anything went sideways. Also, in case Sam found his stash at least it wouldn't be his good whiskey. Popping the cap off, Dean takes a long swig as he stumbles toward the couch. Sam should be home soon. I'll be done with this bottle by then and be able to forget anything blue for a while. Except all he dreams of is blue.

Bright blue swirls fill his dreams as he drifts off. He feels immense warmth as the blue wraps around him like a large ribbon and he floats above the grass. The ribbon caresses Dean like a soft, silk cloud, holding him in place. A slight breeze causes the ribbon to ripple in harmony and alternate between hues of blue. The colors circulate between indigo to azure to cobalt to cerulean to teal and finally midnight blue effortlessly. Dean sees dark angels wings above and feels safe. He flies higher as the ribbon ascends toward the wings. Flashes of cerulean eyes skip by, sad and yearning, before Dean is pulled down into dark azure ocean water by the wings. The ribbon of blue dissolves into nothing. Dean feels alone. In dreams, people don't usually have their sense of smell, but Dean swears he smells hints of sandalwood, a campfire, and honey. Then, he sees Castiel materialize before him with his wings extended, long and wide. Beautiful. They're untouched with no sign of rebellion or impurities. Just as Dean had first seen them. Before he met me. Before he rebelled and lost everything for me. I cursed you, Cas. Green eyes lock with blue and Castiel smiles at Dean. Then suddenly, Castiel's wings begin to dissipate and burn away. He appears to scream in pain. Dean reaches out just as soon as the water darkens and swarms around Castiel. He thrashes against the thick water but cannot break free. Dean is frozen in the water and at once cannot breathe. He screams out to Castiel but no sound comes out. He, instead, inhales the water. Castiel disappears within the black, thick water just as soon as he appears. He's gone.

Dean's eyes slowly open. This is a recurring nightmare he's had since Castiel sacrificed himself. Since he left. Dean had hoped the alcohol would impair his subconscious enough to avoid the nightmare. Beer hasn't been strong enough, nor tequila, or vodka. Whiskey is his last resort and apparently it does jack-shit. I need something stronger, if I am to get any sleep. Although the whiskey does not keep the nightmares at bay it does keep him numb. That is enough to continue drinking. He reaches for the bottle and misses. I may be seeing double. After a few tries, Dean successfully retrieves the bottle and downs the remaining third of the whiskey. His head feels heavy and his chest feels hot. Dean can feel his fingers tingling and toes numbing against his socks. This is the sweet spot of feeling drunk, he thinks.

Sam returns from his date, unnoticed, and walks into the room, seeing Dean spread out on the couch. He eyes the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table and sighs. Sam remembers the other whiskey bottle left on the library table. The same one Dean had been nursing before Sam left. Dean is on a bender again. Eileen shuffles up next to Sam and glances at the couch. She looks at Sam with a sad look. At dinner, he filled her in with everything he knows about Castiel and his sacrifice for Dean. But Eileen didn't realize it would affect Dean this badly. She walks over to Dean and pulls the blanket from on top of the couch and covers Dean. He's passed out again and is slightly twitching. His eyes are racing back and forth.

"We will regroup tomorrow and discuss Plan SOC," Sam whispers while signing.

"I'm still not sure about the code word," Eileen signs with a grimace.

"We'll work on it," he signs with a shrug.

The next morning Dean wakes to his Jack Daniel's replaced with three ibuprofen pills and a glass of water. Grateful, he slowly takes them one at a time due to the agonizing headache. Usually he doesn't have headaches or hangovers but the nightmares don't give him much rest. He really isn't able to sleep off the alcohol. Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes to push back the headache, Dean sighs with exhaustion. He doesn't even know what time it is. His watch reads 4:32 but Dean is unsure if it's AM or PM.

Suddenly, he feels his stomach growl and Dean realizes he hasn't eaten since about noon today. Yesterday? He sloppily rises up and makes his wake toward the kitchen. Nothing really sounds appetizing except for some string cheese. Only, they don't have string cheese. Of course. So, Dean settles for the two day old pepperoni pizza in the fridge. Not too bad, and he will never say no to pizza. Dean isn't sure how long he was passed out but the effects of the whiskey have certainly worn down a bit. He can't walk a straight line, but his vision is more clear. He clumsily carries the pizza box over to the library table next to his laptop and sits it down. Quietly, he pulls the chair out and takes a seat. The hunter in him wants to make sure everything is quiet out in the world. The clock on his laptop confirms its 4:38 AM.

A few clicks and searches show there's a local mysterious killing. Our kinda thing. Dean smiles, knowing that this case will help keep his mind busy. And he will be able to save someone. At least this way he will feel like his life was worth saving. Ironic. I feel like I've said that before. Why do people feel the need to jump at any chance to save me? I don't deserve saving. Dad sold his soul for me and now Cas. I don't deserve it. He shakes his head and munches down on cold pizza in silence.

Dean finishes the last three slices of pizza, underestimating how hungry he had been. He watches a few dumb YouTube videos for a while, to keep his mind off things, waiting for Sam to wake up. Dean is tempted to grab a beer from the fridge but decides against it. He needs to be as sober as possible for the hunt, for Sam. If Dean were to go alone, he would not care. Not at this moment anyway.

Dean has realized his mood swings are ridiculous lately. At one moment, he's super depressed and doesn't care about anything. He honestly doesn't care if he lives or dies. The next moment he can't wait to see what life has to offer. It's as if his brain doesn't know how to comprehend what Castiel's sacrifice means to him. His thoughts can become so tangled and incoherent Dean doesn't know how to act - what to say. That's why he started writing down some of his thoughts, and then thought how much of girl that made him and crumpled the papers up. Right now, he can really use a moment to write down his thoughts.

He grabs the notepad and pen on the table and scribbles away. I hate this feeling. What am I supposed to feel? Anger? Sadness? Relief? Emptiness? Frustration? All of the above? Others? You left me with so many unanswered questions and I left you with nothing in return. How am I supposed to go on knowing this? Cas, how can I go minute to minute, hour to hour, knowing what I know now? I fucked up. I had a chance to say what I've been wanting to say for a while and I couldn't. I didn't. Did you even know? I mean do I even fucking know? I can't even hate you to make myself feel better. I can't bring myself to say I hate you for doing this to me. Because I could never hate you. The paper becomes wet with a few tear drops. I will find you, Cas. Just wait for me.

Dean places the pen next to the notepad after a moment. He wipes his nose with his flannel sleeve. Not many tears fell but his nose is running pretty good. Out of all of his thought entries, this one felt the most cathartic. He sometimes pretends that Castiel can hear him read the words to himself or even hear him as Dean writes the words. Just as Castiel heard his prayer in Purgatory. But he doesn't. He won't. The empty is a dark and torturous place. My prayer and words will be the last things he'd focus on.

Dean lays his head on the table from exhaustion, but doesn't shut his eyes. He won't risk falling asleep. Instead, he focuses on counting the books on each shelf to his right. Then, once he's done with those he counts the ones on his left. Dean notices some of these books, he nor Sam even use. He doesn't know half of the content in these books. Unfortunately, Dean underestimated how counting can cause drowsiness no matter the subject at play. His eyes begin to drift when Sam walks in with loud footsteps.

Yawning, Sam says, "What are you doing in here? You should be in bed."

Dean jerks up, shaking his head from thoughts of sleep. "I found us a case," he replies.

"Mhm. Is that all you were looking for during the early morning?" Sam asks, eyeing the covered notepad. Dean notices and quickly turns it over.

"Sam," he warns. "mind your business."

"Good morning," Eileen joins the boys in the library.

Dean isn't too surprised to see her here but is happy for Sam nonetheless. "Morning, Eileen. I hope sasquatch here didn't take up the whole bed."

Eileen blushes and laughs at Dean. "I don't kiss and tell," she winks at Sam as she kisses him on the cheek. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Yes, please!" Sam signs.

Sam joins Dean at the table and a long beat passes between them. Sounds in the kitchen of water running, the clinking of plates, and banging of pans fill the silence instead. Dean repositions himself in the chair, still not making eye contact with Sam. Sam, however, is studying Dean. He appears disheveled, bags under his eyes, day old stubble and crust around his lips from dried whiskey. He's a wreck.

"So this case-" "We need to talk-" They start simultaneously.

Dean glances up for the first time. "You first."

"I know about Cas." Dean's eyes widen slightly. "At least I know there's more to the story. You didn't tell me everything and I know whatever happened is eating away at you." Dean gestures to dismiss Sam. "Dean, I know you. I can see it. I know when you get like this it's because of something close to you." Sam pauses. "I also read some of your crumpled up papers." A dark look crosses Dean's face. Almost like he wants to punch Sam.

"You did what?" Dean says.

Sam continues, ignoring Dean's comment. "I know you're trying to bring Cas back. I want to help," Sam offers.

Dean sighs, looking to the side. He knows the many dead ends and how disappointing it is trying to save Cas. He doesn't want to subject his brother to the very same thing. "It's no use, Sam. Everything is a dead end. I've tried everything I can think of. Cas is gone," Dean resigns, defeated. "All we can do now is save people, hunt things, and live our lives. It's what Cas would want. It's what everyone, who we have lost, would want."

"Dean," Sam starts. "You're giving up way too easily. There is always another way. Don't you always say that?" Dean doesn't respond. "I know how it may seem hopeless but we have options. We have the resources to continue the search to save him. You can't give up now, Dean. This is Cas."

"I've tried everything I can think of, Sam. Everything! Praying, research, calling Rowena. She doesn't answer. Jack is off grid. I've tried! There's nothing. He's gone!" Dean's voice cracks. He swallows down the pain. "We have to accept that. And however I deal with it is my business. So don't give me those judgy eyes like you are now." Dean says pointedly.

"But, Dean-"

"I said no Sam."

Dean gets up, signaling he's done with this conversation and takes the notepad with him. He doesn't even acknowledge Eileen as she brings breakfast to the library. "The case is pulled up on my laptop. I'm going to get ready." Dean turns the corner and is gone before Sam can reply.

Eileen's face falls as she holds a plate of french toast, bacon, sausage, and lots of syrup. Then one plate of regular scrambled eggs with toast for Sam. She sits the plates on the table and watches Dean leave. "Is he not hungry? I made his favorite." She says.

"It's not that, he's dealing with some, he's just-" Sam doesn't seem to know how to finish his sentence, or fully explain his brother's behavior.

"Cas?" Eileen offers. Sam nods.

Sam reads the case on Dean's laptop and begins to feel nauseated. He has a bad feeling. He, again, has a sense of deja vu. Two days in a row, it can't be a coincidence. It's like there is an itch at the back of his brain, crawling to the surface, wanting to show him something. He feels a headache come on and the pain is similar to when he used to get visions as a young adult. The pain grows stronger as the itch continues, pulling toward his frontal lobe.

Then, a flash of images of Sam and Dean dressed in their normal FBI threads quickly blink by. Another image of them at an abandoned barn fighting some strange, masked creatures. Sam recognizes the mask from Dad's journal. And then a burst of images, showing Sam and Dean fighting these creatures appear. They're vampires! The brothers are winning, slicing the vamp's heads off one after another. The last image shows Dean pushed against something sharp and… Oh no, Dean Sam thinks.

He grabs his head and shakes the images away. Groaning in pain, he sees he's on the floor. He must have fallen while the vision took over. Eileen is at his side, freaked out. She's signing, "Are you okay?" over and over again.

Slowly, Sam regains his thoughts and tells Eileen he's okay. Dean rushes by Sam's side by this point after hearing the loud thud from his fall. Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder, in concern.

"Dude, what the hell happened? Say something. You alright?" Dean glances over Sam, and around the bunker, checking for any intruders.

"Yea, yea. I'm fine. I feel like I just got hit by a freight train. Like how my visions used to feel." He pauses. "I actually think I just had a vision." Sam looks at Dean with bewilderment and Dean returns the look.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say you had a vision?"

"Yea." Sam breathes.

"You haven't had one of those since you were like in your twenties and yellow eyes was after you. Why the fuck now?"

"I-I don't know. I thought it was a nightmare, but last night the same images played in my mind. I went all day yesterday feeling a sense of deja vu. The pie fest, reading the case, even eating breakfast."

All three are silent for quite a while. Their breakfast grows cold but no one pays it any mind. "What if it's a sign?" Eileen questions.

"Like from God, uh, Jack?" Sam offers.

Dean huffs in response. He knows damn good and well Jack is staying out of everyone's business. There isn't any possibility Jack is interfering. "I doubt it."

"It's possible," says Sam. "Maybe he has taken himself out of the narrative, but what if he's helping us still by guiding us through this vision?"

"He hasn't answered any of my damn prayers since two months ago. Why would he start now?"

"I don't know, change of heart?" Sam offers, half-heartedly.

Dean stands and laughs with a bitter shake of his head. "You honestly believe that? Come on, Sam. The kid has a new sense of almighty. We, you, me and Cas, we are now left in the dust. He said so himself. You're just having some freak migraine."

Sam stands, with Eileen in tow. She helps him up by the arm. "You're wrong. I know he's not like Chuck, and stays away, but he still cares. I know he sent me this vision to help us. All of us," Sam stares at Dean's glare of hopelessness. "I have faith, Dean."

"How can you be so sure? How can you be so positive that this is from Jack and he's trying to help us? Doesn't make a lot of sense that out of all the times I've asked for his help, to save Cas, or help me bring him back, he's now warning you of an ordinary hunt?" Dean says frustrated.

"Because in this hunt you die, Dean," Sam blurts out. Dean stays quiet. "You die and I have to go on without you. You leave me and I have to live a life without my brother."

Dean's gaze falls to the floor. He's quiet for a moment, processing this information. "You live a happy life?" He barely says.

"What?"

"After I die, do you go on having the whole white picket fence, apple pie life with the 2.5 kids?" Dean clarifies, calmly.

Sam searches Dean's face for any kind of sign of self actualization or will to live. "Why does it matter? I can still strive for that with you alive. We both can," he adds.

Dean smiles, that tired, sad smile. "No, Sammy. You and I both know as long as I'm alive you will always be in this life." He looks at Eileen. "You two will never have a chance at a happy, normal life with me around. Besides, hunting is what I do. There is nothing else for me. Not anymore.”

"That's not true," Eileen says, with tears in her eyes. She reaches out and places her hand on Dean's cheek, pleading for him to understand how wrong he is.

"It is. I'm the one that dragged you back into this life, Sam. I'm the only one keeping you here. Let me give you an out."

"Stop. Okay just stop. We are not going on this hunt. If you want to be suicidal, fine, but I'm keeping you out of danger. You are always so quick to jump in front of a gun or blade. Do you still care that little about yourself, Dean?" Sam searches his brother's eyes. "What about that job paperwork on your desk? You must have cared at some point. Wanted to live!" Dean is quiet. Sam sighs. "Cas wouldn't want you to die. He died to save you, remember? So, what I am going to do is bring Cas back. Are you going to help me?"

Dean ponders Sam's offer for a moment. "What about the people that will die, if we don't save them?"

"I'll call some hunters and give them a heads up on what to look out for when they go there. It'll be taken care of," Sam reassures.

Dean glances between Eileen and Sam. Fiddling with a loose string on the end of his flannel sleeve, he sighs. On one hand, he'd love to see Castiel again. He'd do anything- to hug him and tell him all the things he didn't get to say. But on the other hand, he's so tired. So very tired. There are no leads. And he's lost all faith in his search to save Castiel.

"Dean?" Sam starts.

"Okay. Let's bring Cas home."

#man i dont even know what to put in the tags #who do i tag #my writing #destiel #this is gonna be a journey

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow....This one is long, but I was in such a big writing mood for these two that I had to do it. We learn some of Xaviera’s memories, we see some sparks flying and we see how two souls bond into one.

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova @the-slasher-files

Warnings: 18+ because there are sexual scenes and straight up SMUT

Words: 5.8k

After that incident, Xaviera stayed the rest of the night preparing for the hunt; cleaning her sniper rifle, a weapon that took the life of so many poachers across the globe, from Asia to Africa and even Europe, annihilating greedy humans that wanted to take lives of animals for their own egoistical gains.

Then there were the small arrows. She smirked, remembering how some mocked the small weapons, insignificant at first glance, but only if they knew what they packed, they would have thought twice.

Xaviera learned that size sometimes doesn't help you when faced with a creature that has enough venom to put down an elephant. Her favorites were the snake neurotoxins, like the one of the black African mamba, it's venom could kill a human in 20 minutes if you don't have the anti-venom. It was like a ticking bomb.

Then the venom of the King Cobra; its bite delivers a tremendous amount of paralysis-inducing neurotoxins. The snake’s venom is so strong and so voluminous that it can kill an elephant in just a few hours. Death also results in at least 50 to 60 percent of untreated human cases.

Oxyuranus microlepidotus, also called, appropriately, the fierce snake; Xaviera remembers encountering this deadly snake. She witnessed it during one of the expeditions and one of the researchers got bitten. The venom consists of taipoxin, a complex mix of neurotoxins, procoagulants, and myotoxins that paralyze muscles, inhibit breathing, cause hemorraging in blood vessels and tissues, and damage muscles. The researcher didn't survive; a single drop of venom from the reptile can supposedly kill 100 men.

It left many experts dumbfounded, but Xaviera learned to respect that snake.

'Respect what can kill you.' That's what her father used to tell her when she was little.

'Never underestimate the size of some creatures.' he also would say.

Sitting down at the table, injecting the hallow arrows with the specific venoms, her mind drifted to the memories of when her father would take her to his travels, teaching her all the basic surviving tactics, how to approach certain animals.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' he would instruct her, especially when they encountered very majestic animals, like the banded krait. It was a beautiful snake, it's scaling in obsidian black and strong yellow, but when her father told her that the neurotoxin it sported can induce paralysis, she quickly nodded.

Xaviera missed him so much, and her mother too. She would always patch Xaviera up when she got hurt, also teaching her medical tactics, how to stop hemorrhage, how to properly disinfect a wound and stitch it up.

The white-haired woman closed her eyes; she was getting emotional and that was a dangerous thing to do, considering the predicament she was into. She needed to remember that there was also a predator with her in the cottage.

For now, he seemed unharmful. If he so badly had wanted, he could have killed her by now.

'Never let your guard down when you are surrounded by wild creatures.' her father's words echoed in her head.

She swallowed hard, remembering one time when she was careless, her young age and immaturity showed back then.

She went with her father on a small trip close to their homes in North America, in dense forests to observe the wilderness, only for this expedition to almost take Xaviera's life. They encountered three small bear cubs.

That meant only one thing; there was also a mother bear near and she was furious. Xaviera couldn't blame the adult bear. She was protecting her cubs and if it wasn't for her father that tranquilized the feral, giant of an animal, Xaviera wouldn't have been here now.

Although, the Grizzly Bear gave the white-haired woman a souvenir to remember her by. She remembers how the bear charged towards her, flashing jaws that could probably crush her skull and claws that were five-inch long.

It left five long deep enough scratch marks from her hip down her outer thigh, almost to her knee. Her father saved her; always carrying a tranquilizer-gun in case they encounter wild and untamed beasts.

Xaviera sighed, finished with the venomous arrows, putting them in a special bag, made of thick leather. Carrying around weapons like this was deadly. You never know if you accidentally pierce yourself with one.

Her light blue eyes moved to the window, seeing it was already morning, lightly snowing. Maybe tomorrow she will go out if the weather calmed down, itching to finish the leeches that she knew very well had captured a snow leopard.

'The fucking parasites.' she thought, her brows pulled into a frown.

Her gruesome fantasy disappeared when the need for food made itself known, stomach signaling her that. She moved towards the kitchen, starting to make some soup, cutting the vegetables, calculating the number of ingredients she needed for two people.

She groaned; why did she care for that man's well being? He was obscene, cocky, and infuriating. Still, the way he shushed and cooed her after her nightmare made something in her chest light up, like a small fire that started to heat up her insides.

She huffed in annoyance at this. He was infuriating. Period.....and he made her want to castrate him.

But none deserves to die by starvation, so pushing the strong emotions aside she continues to prepare the dish, putting all the ingredients cauldron and letting it boil, waiting next to it, absorbing in the warmness it provided and the delicious aromas, while she was reading one of her zoology books, enjoying the silence, while it lasts because she knows once the soup is done she will have to go back upstairs with that infuriating specimen of a male.

Xaviera was so into reading, stopping at a paragraph about ranks in the packs of animals when the soup started to boil. She set the book down on the table, then filled two bowls with the hot food, letting it cool down a little, preparing herself to go upstairs and hope she won't be forced to scratch his face off.

Taking the bowls and setting them on a tray, she slowly marched upstairs, feeling her heartbeat pick up a little.

Headstrong man plays with her head.

She pushed the door open with her foot, seeing Andrei gaze out the window, his knives next to him on the bed. She walked towards the nightstand to set the tray down, the small clang of it pulling the man from his thoughts.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and confused face, still suspicious probably for why she was still taking care of him. To be honest, Xaviera didn't know the answer either. Curse him for being more animal than human.

"Thank you, myshka." he spoke, taking the bowl of soup and sitting it on his lap.

She nodded his way, taking her own bowl of soup and sitting in the armchair like she did yesterday. It felt like such a deja vu.

"None deserves to die by starvation." she simply told him, starting to eat in silence, savoring the first spoons of the warm dish.

"So...Are you going to tell me what you are doing here in Himalaya?" she asked, looking at him with curious blue eyes.

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was debating if he should answer.

"My job...it's um, well I'm a...I kill people for money." he answered, then continued.

"The poachers are from Ukraine, and the job took me here." he finished, watching her carefully as he took a sip off the spoon.

Normal people would probably be frightened by such a statement, but Xaviera was no normal woman. She killed humans herself and she lost count of how many died; sometimes by having their heads shot or a deadly venomous arrow piercing them, but that's the easy case.

Most of the time she just started the kill, then watched as the animals killed the poachers. Being ripped to shreds by a lion wasn't an easy dead.

Xaviera tilted her head to the side curiously like a cat.

"I see. Well, they are dead so I am more than content with that, although there are more leeches that need to be crushed." she replied, almost finished with her soup.

"Once the snowing stops I am out to balance the ecosystem." she told him, the corners of her lips twitching up in a faint dark smile.

His gaze was directly on her.

"So much fight, so much promise within you, little mouse..." he spoke, taking another spoonful of soup.

"The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you." he finished, getting up, making Xaviera tense a little.

He looked like he would stroke her cheek or share an intimate moment, which made Xaviera nervous, only for the Russian to hand her the half-empty bowl of soup and ruffling her white hair, giving her a smirk, then disappearing downstairs.

She was surprised he healed so fast; probably was used to it, but that's not what clouded the woman's mind. His words, much like the Grizzly scars that she was sporting and hiding, were now printed deep in her mind, giving her a feeling of pride, feeling like her ears were on fire, probably from blushing.

It was so long since someone told her such words, the last time someone praised her in such a deep way was her father. She shook her head, clearing her mist-filled mind, taking the tray with the two almost empty bowls, and walking downstairs.

The first thing she saw Andrei look through his weapons; she was tense at first, probably waiting for him to use them on her, but after she realized he was only checking them, she walked towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

"Y'know the kife, this one here, it is my favorite weapon...." he begins to speak, but she didn't look his way, but she did listen to his words.

"Only certain soldiers are skilled with these...." he continues and Xaviera hears his footsteps.

"It is very intimate game of life, death and the blade in hand...almost like a dance." his voice sounds very close and she knows that he is behind her, making her stop, her hands holding the bowl while she tries not to let him get to her; she needs to control her emotions.

She felt like ice was dripping down her back when one of Andrei's hands wee gently placed on her hip, where her scars started down, but luckily the clothes were hiding them.

He moved his other hand that held the knife in front of her, her jaw tense, prepared in case he decided to do something and test his theory that followed.

"This knife has saved me more than hundred times." she could feel his hot breath down the nape of her neck; cursing herself for pulling her hair into a messy bun, but the long white locks always got in the way when she washed the dishes.

His lips grazed her soft skin, making her eyes widen.

"And my favorite part...seeing the knife slip quietly between the bones, slicing skin like butter, dripping in hot blood as you pull it back...." then he kissed her neck, her shoulders so tense, like a feline ready to pounce.

"It's a beautiful sight." he finished, pulling the knife from her view.

She would have probably used her sarcasm on him, telling him how oh-so poetic he can be, but she couldn['t, because the Russian was in her personal space, way too close for her comfort and not in the usual 'I wanna choke you to death until your eyes are dull and lifeless'.

No. There was too much sexual ineduo dripping from his words and you could taste the atmosphere, which by seconds it turned electric.

Her breathing was the first giveaway of her feelings, a new form of vulnerability enveloping her.

She never had someone so intimately close to her, in such a way that made her feel like she was walking on thin ice.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so weak, so fragile.

Andrei just huffed in laughter, amused at her discomfort.

"Well, little mouse, we are probably going to be stuck here for a few days, and there is no TV or entertainment...." he replied, the hand that was holding the knife, grazed the outside of her thigh, moving upward, only to make her more anxious.

"I am not a big fan of reading, so I thought you could be my entertainment." he finished by kissing her neck, sensitive to his touch and making her breath hitch in her throat.

The sexual ineduo was too obvious now, the grip on the bowl so tight she almost broke it. Her eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do, never being in such a combusting situation.

"I-I...." she tried to form words, but it's like they were stuck in her throat, knees starting to shake.

She was a nervous mess.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sarcastically asked, playing with the hem of her shirt, while his other hand held her hip tight, making sure she was planted against him.

"Or should I say wolf?" he laughed, his canines grazing along her naked shoulder, nipping and kissing, all thanks to her over-sized shirt that slipped of her shoulder.

The white-haired woman felt her cheeks go on fire at the way his voice sounded and how he touched her.

What was she supposed to say? That she never indulged in the more carnal and primal activities? That she never was touched? That she was a virgin!?

She had a few boyfriends in college, but there was nothing more than kissing and a little bit of touching here and there; of course, nothing could compare to what the Russian in front of her was doing to her.

When his canines nipped more at her skin she dropped the bowl into the sink.

"N-No...It's just..." again she couldn't find it in her to properly speak.

In a flash, Andrei roughly whipped her around and hauled her on the counter with ease in a display of raw strength, making her squeak, his form settling himself between her legs, towering over her small form. His ice-blue eyes staring her down, his large and rough hands on her thigh, admiring the way she shook.

He was allowing her to speak, to continue her phrase.

Her eyes widened at the position they were in, too intimate, not to mention the way he looked at her, like a very dangerous animal ready to go in for the kill. She gulped down, trying to find her words.

"I-I....I've never..." she began, breaking eye contact with the intimidating Russian, hoping he will get the drift because it was so embarrassing to say the words herself.

Slowly, he pulled away, maintaining the predatory look, only to broke in a burst of full-on loud laughter, showing off his teeth and squinting his eyes, holding his chest and walking backward.

His laugh was deep and almost shook the cottage.

"Y-You....you what???...."

She felt her face heat up more at his reaction, laughing at her like she was a joke.

"S-Stop laughing..." she huffed, but he still didn't stop.

"I said, stop laughing, jackass!" she screamed, getting off the kitchen counter.

His laughing continued, watching her with amused eyes.

"Ba-Baby girl...oh my God." he was almost to the point of tears in his laughter and that's when Xaviera snapped.

Her icy blue eyes turning into a glare, feeling completely insulted at his laughter.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hands grasped his shirt and pushed him against the closest wall with all her strength she could muster, taking advantage of him being distracted.

"Stop laughing, asshole!" she snarled up at him; looking like a kitten that hissed at the big bad wolf.

The laughter instantly stopped, his smile dropping and turning into a snarl, his eyes darkening by her actions.

Swiftly, Andrei grabbed her throat and whipped her against the wall he was just against. She was ready to tell him to fuck off, but his large and muscular thigh was placed between her legs, right in the center, a mewl leaving her lips.

A new type of fire formed in the pit of her stomach, one that made her weak in the knees.

"W-What?" she choked out, her fingernails digging into the wrist of his hand that was wrapped around her neck, not tight enough to stop air to fill her lungs, but enough to assert his dominance over her.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his wolfish ones.

His breath hissed through gritted teeth like he was trying to control himself. He swallowed harshly, removing his hand from her neck, cupping her jaw, and stroking his thumb on her cheek.

The size difference between them was nerve breaking and she knew if he so saw fit he could rip her jaw off.

The dark scenario in her head vanished when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Xaviera." the first time he used her name and his words made her feel like she was made of jelly.

That glimpse of softness disappeared when the Russian grabbed her ass, making her wrap her legs around his waist, a growl leaving from deep within his chest when she accidentally grind on him a little.

She had no time to say anything because his lips crashed on hers.

Everything made her feel so dizzy and she knew if it weren't for his hands supporting her, she would have fallen down. The words he spoke echoed in her head, making her feel like her ribcage was gonna combust from how fast her heart was beating.

The adrenaline.

When she had grinded down on him, she felt something to say so....intimidating.....just like him.

"A-Andrei...." she squeaked against his mouth, her hands fisting into his shirt.

His mouth devoured hers and she found herself so weak by the many flavors he was sporting; the taste of tobacco, earl grey tea, and the faintness of the spicy soup.

He nipped at her bottom lip before he broke the kiss.

"I have you, little mouse." he whispered lowly, walking over to the couch, sitting himself down with her on his lap, his eyes trained on her like he was lost in his own mysterious mind.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her again, but this time it was much slower, but passionate, his finger laced into her soft, white hair. Her much smaller hands were gripping his shirt tight, afraid that if she let go she would fall from the rock and hit the bottom hard.

She tried to mimic the kiss, still wondering why she didn't push him away, smashing his balls and making him impotent for all his remaining life.

Maybe it was because she had never met a man like him, someone so dangerous and so at ease with his more primal instincts.

Again, he pulled away, his hand grasping her chin, resting his forehead on hers.

"But how myshka?....you're so beautiful." he asked.

How? Perhaps, she hadn't met someone that could match her, someone who wasn't afraid to indulge in the wilder side, someone who could actually keep up with her....Someone who can protect her.

She remembers in one expedition, there was a guy who tried to flirt with her, only to scream and run when one Boa fell down from a tree in front of her, and before that he was acting like he was all man and that masculinity.

"I-I've never found someone....Well...Compatible to say so...." she answered his question, looking up at him innocently from under her eyelashes.

Something sparked in his eyes, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"I will take care of you....ssh." he murmured, running his thumb along her soft lips.

Her mouth opened instinctually, his thumb moving gently inside her mouth, her tongue running over his digit and lips wrapped around it. His pupils dilatated at her innocent gesture, lips pulled into a small snarl. He was trying to control himself.

He pulled his hand away, only for his mouth to start leaving opened mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, his big hands running under her shirt. Everywhere he touched her, he left a hot trail of fire, making her slowly moan, still shy about everything.

Xaviera tilted her head in the opposite direction, allowing him more access, just like a female animal does for the strongest male; a sign of submission. Her hands moved from his shirt to run her fingers through his hair; so soft, so fluffy, reminding her of the fur coat of a wolf.

She never felt like this before, the intensity of all her nerve-endings was stretching, absorbing every touch he gave her. She was so caught up in this newfound pleasure, just mewling in appreciation of all the attention he was basking her in, that th sound of material being ripped pulled her from the induced hormonal state.

Ice blue eyes opening to see he had ripped her shirt like it was made of paper, exposing her upper body, chest covered by a simple white bra, nothing fancy. When you were always on the run like a wild free-spirited animal just like her, you didn't have time to worry about expensive lingerie with all kinds of designs.

His hands quickly moved behind her to undo her bra, breaking the hook in the process, but that was her last of her worry because when the white material was tossed behind him, she wanted to cover herself, but he was much quicker than her, grasping her wrists from doing so. Not enough to break, but enough to tell her not to cover.

The way he was looking at her made her nervous; were they too small, not his desired shape? His tongue peeked out from his mouth, running along one of his canines.

A loud gasp tore from her throat when his mouth laced to one of her nipples, sucking and biting on it greedily. The other breast wasn't ignored, his calloused hand grabbing the globe of flesh, his fingers twisting the nipple.

Her hands tugged on his light brown faux hawk, her head tossed back, and looking at the ceiling. She never knew that such actions could make her feel like this; it made her feel weak, but in such a delicious way, wetness forming between her legs, giving her an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to adjust herself, she ground on him, feeling the bulge in his cargo pants, only for a primal growl to erupt from Andrei, biting her nipple rather roughly, making her scream, whimpering as he started to lap at the rosy red bud.

It was such a weird mix of pain and pleasure.

His mouth, moved up along her chest, continuing to nip and bite, leaving trails of hickeys in his path; just like a wolf marking his territory. Blue and purples adored her pale skin in intricate patterns.

"Myshka." he growled against her neck, canines grazing her pulse, making the white-haired woman whimper; not in fear, but in sinful submission, something she never thought she would do.

Before she knew it, he moved off the couch with his hands supporting her body again, hands groping her small tight ass as he marched upstairs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The door to the bedroom was kicked open rather roughly and surprisingly, her form gently laid on the bed and he pulled her lips into a sloppy kiss, showing how eager he was to devour her, to make her feel things she never even had in her life.

He loved to bite, that's for sure, Xaviera noticed that and his sharp canines only made him more of a beast than a man, but God if it didn't send her into a turned-on mess. She could feel how soaked she was and she knew he would be all smug about it.

His lips moved to her ear, licking it, then nipping on the cartilage. Xaviera squeaked, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

"Sensitive there, baby girl?" he whispered in her ear, blowing hot air, stealing more lewd noises from the woman underneath him.

She was ready to throw him some colorful words, but that thought flew off the window when he sucked harshly on her earlobe, his hands, tugging her pants down in such an uncivil way, leaving her with only a pair of white cotton panties.

His eyes drifted to something that caught his interest; her Grizzly scars. She was afraid he might be pulled off by them, but she was surprised to feel him gently trace the marks, silently telling her it was alright, nothing to be ashamed of.

His eyes then moved to her panties.

Andrei smirked at the choice of her colors, so simple yet so innocent, running two thick fingers up and down her covered pussy, making her legs twitch.

"So cute, little mouse." he commented, making her face heat up.

He always managed to turn her into a flustering mess. She looked at him with confusion when he crawled off her, only for her legs to be thrown on his broad shoulders, his fingers pulling her panties aside, taking a glimpse at her most private parts, so untouched. His big thumb caressed her folds, spreading her wetness more.

"You're so wet for me, baby girl....I wanna have a taste of this juicy pussy of yours." he whispered, voice rough and growling at the end.

Her eyes widened when he felt his mouth on her, tongue lapping at what her heat had to offer him, his canines grazing her outer labia. Her hands fisted the bedsheets, as a series of lustful moans and mewls escaped her mouth; the way he was working her, switching from suckling to biting, the heels of her feet digging into his broad back, instinctually her legs closed around his head, pulling him in closer.

"A-Andrei!" she squeaked his name as his sharp teeth nibbled on her clit, making tears form at the corner of her eyes from how the pleasure was hitting her like a dagger.

It didn't help the growls that left his mouth, sending vibrations straight up her core and a weird feeling was forming into the pit of her stomach; she knew what was gonna happen.

"W-Wait....S-Stop....O-Or I am gonna-" she warned him, but he was just his stubborn self, not stopping his assault on her pussy, pushing one thick finger inside her and she was done, a long and loud whine.

She breathed heavily as he lapped up her juices, slowly raising up and looking at her with wide eyes, that feral look in them making her tremble.

"S-Sorry...." she apologized, seeing his mouth, jaw, and chin covered in wetness.

His wet lips pulled into his trademark wolfish grin, canines on full display, delighted by what she just did. He moved back over her, smashing his lips eagerly on hers, making Xaviera taste herself.

"See how good you taste, pussycat?" he asked against her lips, her eyes half-lidded as he looked into his own.

Her hands tugged on his shirt, a small whine leaving her, wanting to feel his skin. Getting up, he tugged his black shirt off, strong muscles on display, skin that was covered in scars, especially a big one down his chest, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants.

He kicked his combat boots off, then teasingly slipped the last piece of clothing off, along with his boxers. Innocent blue eyes widened as his length was freed, slapping against his abdomen. Her mouth hung open; he was big, everything about him was big, and screamed pure raw strength. Precum oozed from the rosy type, two obvious veins along the girthy length.

When her eyes looked up at his face, she could tell he was mighty proud of what he was packing; masculine pride.

"Close your mouth, myshka before I put something to occupy it." his obscene words made her quickly close it, hearing him chuckle at her flustered face.

The Russian moved back over her, his big hands pinning her tiny ones next to each side of her head as he gazed down directly into her glassy ones.

She gasped as he felt his length rub between her legs, the material of her panties adding to the friction.

"Feel what you're doing to me, darling? This is all your work." he growled, an inch away from her lips, her panties thoughtfully soaked.

In one swift move, one hand left her wrist to rip her panties off, coming back to grip her wrist back.

That was it, no more barries, nothing else between them, his cock rubbing directly on her soft skin, wet and eager for him to take it.

"P-Please..." she whispered, her legs opening more for him.

"W-What was that, myshka? You have to be more precise." he teased, making her whine.

She couldn't believe he was going to make her beg; he had managed to do something no man has ever done.

"P-Please...I-I need it." she choked out when his mouth laced on the skin behind her ear.

"What's that you want? My big cock, baby girl? That's what you want so badly?" he snarled into her ear, his canines running up and down the length of her neck and she threw her head back, the full length of her neck now on display, exactly like a female in heat that needs to be mounted by the most powerful male; the most intimate act of submission.

"Yes, please! Now, hurry up!" she screamed, exasperated with this anticipation.

That seemed to be the call because the follow action made her choke on her own breath, legs wrapping around his waist and her fingernails digging into his back, her mouth in an 'o' shape as she gazed with deer-like eyes into his feral ones, trying probably not to fuck her brains out since it's her first time.

She felt so full like she was going to be ripped in half, tears running down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, whipping her tears away.

"Shhh...Breath, myshka....Breath. I'm here." he cooed, letting her adjust and she was very grateful for that.

No way was he average. Fuck no.

She tried to control her body, her breathing, relaxing her tense muscles as much as she could and she gave him a slight nod, motioning for him to move a little, which he did, very slowly, but by the way, his jaw was so tense, muscles bulging under scarred skin, she knew it was hard to control himself.

First, just some experimental thrusts, adjusting to his size, closing her eyes, the foreign feeling of pain fading away little by little which each push and pull until there was only pleasure, her moans signaling him that he could move harder, which he happily did, but he still held back.

"Fuck....You're so tight." he growled in her neck, slipping in and out of her cunt.

Xaviera couldn't form words and she let the primal sounds speak. The slow, languid pace quickly turned into fast and experimental thrusts, their skin slapping together whenever Andrei hilted inside her.

"So dripping for me." he breathed, his hands moving to grasp her ass.

"Yesssss." the white-haired woman mewled, her hands running through his hair.

He used his grip on her behind to move her body up and down his length, her body so light and easy to manhandle.

Now she knew why the animals were so feral in mating; how could you not be when all this pleasure is exploding through your veins. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum again, not by how he was starting to pound her cunt.

"Are you close, little mouse?" he asked her, one of her hands fisting his hair.

"I can feel you squeezing around me so eagerly." he sounded so primal; like a true apex predator wanting to conquer his mate.

"Mhmm..." she answered, the delicious knot ready to snap.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled, canines dangerously close to her neck artery.

"W-What?" she asked in a breathless moan.

She guessed that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because he gave her such a harsh thrust that made her toes curl.

"I asked.....Who do you belong to?" his voice had a growling tint, clearly losing his patience.

All her ration vanished then.

"Y-You.....I'm yours. I'm all yours." Xaviera whined when he slipped his cock almost all the way out, only for the tip to rest inside her.

He was going to kill her like this.

He kept her like this, only to took her by surprise when he pushed all the way in, a series of quick and deep thrusts followed, the tip of his length hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over, and she came heavily, her fingernails so deep in his back, running down, leaving a trail of hot red marks.

His cock twitched inside her and she felt warmness in the pit of her belly, making her feel like she was flying on a cloud, but she also had the feeling that she was really fucking a wolf, by the sound that left Andrei's mouth. His lips pulled into a snarl, deadly k9's glinting and the most erotic growl she ever heard meet her ears.

They both tried to catch their breaths, a smirk tugging at the Russian's lips as he looked down at her face; rosy red cheeks, eyes showing deep satisfaction and her lips swollen from the kissing.

"Speechless, koshechka?" (koshechka=pussycat)

Xaviera just gulped down, nodding her head and making him chuckle at her adorable expression, his hand coming to her head, running his thick fingers through her long soft winter locks, his mouth moving to her head as he whispered in Russian.

She didn't know what he said, but by the way, he spoke, it feels soothing, like he was singing her a lullaby.

She felt his thumb graze her pulse, one of her hands running up and down his chest gently, especially over his big scar.

It was like the fire died down and the only thing that was left was a sense of tranquility, a smile tugging at Xaviera's lips.

"Moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars." he whispered against her neck, kissing one of the bigger bitemarks he left on her. (moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars= my beautiful snow leopard)

She sighed contently, enjoying this rare moment, her hand playing with his fluffy hair as he littered her neck in all the attention.

Neither of them were sleepy and probably their minds were clouded with tons of questions and wonders.

#Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei Kulokova #Andrei Kulokova x Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x xaviera #Slasher oc #Killer OCs #Original characters #story Time

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mammon-chan · 4 years

Text

Deja Vu (Mammon x F!MC)

TW: blood, death, violent thoughts

A scream echoed through the House of Lamentation. It was a common sound – sometimes Asmodeus would screech about someone stealing his hair products, or Leviathan would yell about missing out on a limited-edition figurine. However, this time, the scream was unfamiliar – higher pitched than the rest of the brothers’ and was silenced quickly.

Mammon, who had walked along the corridor to try and spy on your conversation of Lucifer, raced towards the source. You were lying there, on the ground, battered and bloodied. His own brother, who was supposed to be on exchange in the human world, laughed hysterically as he was pulled back by Lucifer and Beelzebub.

Mammon didn’t understand anything people were saying – there was a roaring in his ears he couldn’t silence. He knelt beside you. Carefully, Mammon pulled your semi-conscious body into his arms. “Elena! Hang in there! Elena!”

“Mammon, you look like such a fool!” Belphegor sneered. “A human’s about to kick the bucket, and yet here you are, panicking as if it’s the end of the world!” He could barely finish his sentence due to his laughter, a crazed look in his eyes that Mammon didn’t recognise.

Your eyes fluttered, shifting to meet his. Your face was tense as you tried to fake a smile, your voice quiet within the din as you spoke, “at least I kept that promise, huh?” His mind went blank as he tried to decipher what you mean.

He was sitting on your bed. His hands shook as he wrapped bandages around your arm, the shock of you nearly dying at Leviathan’s hand, whilst he’d tripped, unable to stop anything from happening was still evident. Lucifer had stepped in at the last minute, saving you from harm’s way. Leave it to Lucifer to clean up Mammon’s messes, he had thought bitterly.

“…Listen. The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.” He paused, swallowing as his hands slid away from yours. Seeming to hesitate before he continued, “…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

A short silence, and you nodded, giving him a small smile. “All right.” You answered. “I promise.” With your uninjured hand, you locked pinkies with him

Mammon shook his head. “No. No, you’re not gonna die, ya hear me? Don’t you dare die!” He yelled. Tears blurred his vision as they fell down his cheeks. His glasses were getting smeared and he could barely see. He didn’t care.

Raising a hand up to cup his face, your thumb grazed against his cheek. Your lips moved to form words he would never hear. He felt your hand drop and your eyes fluttered shut.

He doesn’t know how long he held you for. Curses spewed from his mouth as he screamed and cried. At some point he was pulled away from your body by Lucifer who had an odd look of concern on his face. He had tried to calm Mammon down. It doesn’t work. Mammon broke free from Lucifer’s grasp and bolted out of the house as fast as he could. Never stopping, never looking back.

When he finally arrived at the Demon Lord’s Castle, Barbatos was there, waiting for him. With the same polite smile as ever, he greeted Mammon. “So, you still haven’t managed it?” It feels like he’s being mocked. He ignored the comment and passed Barbatos.

“One more time. I’ll save her this time.” He swore on it.

--------

He awoke with a start. It all felt like a bad dream that would never end.

After getting changed into his uniform, he barged into your room as always, to find you, sat at your vanity mirror, seeming to have spaced out. It was normal to find you staring into space – he almost laughed with how regular the sight he saw was. You snapped out of your dream-world and your eyes met with his reflection. Due to the amount of times the brothers had barged into your room, you didn’t seem to be rattled by the fact he’d entered unannounced. “Good morning, mi amor!”

His eyes widened, and in just a few steps, he encases you within a rib-breaking hug that would rival Beelzebub’s.

You let out a small squeak of surprise and patted his arm in hopes he’d let you go so you could breathe. He loosened his grip but kept a firm hold on you. As he spoke, he rested his head on your shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Just– Lemme stay like this for a little longer.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Your fingers threaded through his hair, and he let out a sigh.

“I feel like I’ve failed you,” He whispered.

You stiffened under his grasp, and he cursed himself for letting his thoughts slip out. “What?”

“Agh, nothin’, nothin’!” He let go of you and waved his hands precariously in front of him and grinned, making an obvious show of ‘nothing’ being wrong. “Was just talkin’ to myself, don’t ya worry, Elena.” You stared at him for a long moment, before you nodded.

“If you say so, love.”

Mammon could tell you hadn’t believed a word he had said. However, you weren’t the type to pry too much, so you didn’t question him. And for now, just being here with you was enough.

You were alright. Everything would be okay.

--------

But he knows that it isn’t. He spent the last year repeating the same day over and over. Trying, trying to save you. Always failing.

Each time you died seemed more devastating than the last – how could you keep disappearing during your conversation with Lucifer, then suddenly show up with Belphegor? He didn’t understand.

He’d tried, time and time again to follow you, but each time, he’d get stuck at the stairs that led to the attic. And surely you weren’t up there, because nobody was allowed there, except Lucifer.

Sometimes his anger would bubble up too much, and he’d even contemplate on whether he should murder his own brother, Belphegor, after he’d killed you so many times. Or at least severely injuring him before his brothers got in the way. Perhaps he could force him to talk about how he killed you when he was supposed to be in the human world. The violent urges would pass within minutes, and he’d mentally beat himself up over the fact he’d even think about killing his own brother.

--------

You had died once again. He had found you, half conscious, being dragged out to the hallway by his brother, who’s chest puffed out with pride at killing a ‘measly’ human that he despised. At some point, during one of the many times he’d repeated the timeline, he’d stopped crying when you died. He’d grown numb to the sensation of grief stabbing away at his heart. Instead, he turned, his head lowered, fists swung tightly by his sides. He left the House of Lamentation as his brothers mourned after you, and headed, as always, to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

The first thing Mammon had saw was Barbatos, stood by the entrance. His lips were curled into a smirk, and Mammon walked forward. He swung his fist forwards towards the other demon’s face, and Barbatos caught the punch before it landed, twisting Mammon’s hand away from him before he released.

“There’s no point in getting upset at me for your own failures.” The butler turned and walked back inside, and Mammon followed him inside, just like clockwork.

“You’re right.” He mumbled and stretched out his hand, fingers running over the fingernail marks that had bit into his palm.

He had followed Barbatos into his room, watched as he opened the door once again for him. If he stepped through, everything would be reset once again. You wouldn’t be dead anymore. You would be alive, in the Devildom.

With the next step he took, his demon form took place. After all the repeats of the same timeline, in the same dimension, he had grown more powerful. He could feel this extra energy surging through his veins, urging him to finally make a move. Barbatos turned towards Mammon as he stepped forward again, and with one swift blow to the head, he was down. He kicked the door shut, moving towards another door before Barbatos could recover. He was just thankful that Barbatos had explained which door contained which power, or he would’ve been lost in the time-loop forever. He yanked the door open.

“There’s only one way for us to be happy.” He muttered to himself as he stepped into the void beyond the doorway.

If he couldn’t save you, then he would create a universe where you would never get hurt again.

And with that last thought, his vision turned black.

--------

some of y’all might’ve been wondering: damn, jo hasn’t written/posted anything in a bit. jokes legit nobody has thought that and that’s because i’ve been working on this commission for the lovely @eckya! it’s actually the longest fic i’ve wrote in Years at around 1.4k words (which isn’t that long but shh)

they requested a fic with their custom MC inspired by madoka magica rebellion and it was pretty fun to play around/write with wibbly wobbly timey wimey... stuff. god i make myself cringe, this isnt 2012 tumblr

i hope y’all enjoy this fic bc it took a While due to quarantine fkjbggkj

if y’all did enjoy, feel free to tip my work here! or even commission me!

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me fics #obey me headcanons #obey me fic #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me headcanon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #my writing

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essayofthoughts · 3 years

Note

i think a lot about "a blank slate" so for the fic scene: a blank slate, if you had any!

Send me one of my fic titles and I’ll tell which was THAT SCENE (the scene I most wanted to write) for that fic

So the thing about a blank slate is that I had ideas for it mulling around for a while. I'd written a oneshot kind of take on it a while before and we'd discussed the general concept in comments. So I had a lot of general ideas I wanted to work with for it, but not much by way of specific scenes. The vibe for a blank slate was much more an emotional one than set visuals or scenes - as you commented yourself on it, I wanted to capture a kind of eerie repetitiveness for it, especially in the early chapters and I really struggled with that until I listened to this song.

The music video is, I promise, also relevant.

Also, this gets long so I'm sticking it beneath a cut.

You see those moving lights in it? You hear how the music slowly layers up, adding elements? That struck me and that became the vibe I was aiming for for the fic. Hence the very first lines of it:

Lights swinging like pendulums, dizzying his mind. He needs to run, needs to move, but he’s strapped down. He has to move, has to get away, get to someone, but he doesn’t know who. Someone gone. The lights keep swinging, dizzying. He closes his eyes but with the darkness of the room he can still make out the swishes of light. His head hurts. “Sleep,” a voice tells him, and he does.

So in a way, That Scene for me, in this fic, was first of all, that first one. I needed to get it down and I needed for it to be what I wanted to build on to the rest of the story. I needed it to be the start of Ritual Spirit - moving lights in darkness and slowly building music, but always coming back to these same, familiar elements - so I could get the first half of the story exactly where I wanted it before the reveal. And, like with Ritual Spirit - the lyrics of that song aren't exactly easy to make out. For all I love precision in my writing, I did want intent to be somewhat muddy in the early part of this fic. See, for example:

He dreams of his sister. He can’t see her face, but he could never see faces in dreams. It’s his sister though, his Wanda. He knows that fact, and does not need to see her face to know it is her. He remembers her laughing, tugging on his hands, leading him down streets to a house with a red door. He remembers feeling happy. When he wakes, she is there. Her hands brush gently through his hair, but there’s no scarlet this time. His head is in her lap, he realises, and he can see her eyes, shining scarlet still, looking down at him.

Is the "she" who is there his sister? Or is it the Witch who he only thinks of with that pronoun? You're meant to wonder which it is he meant, because though to him those two are separate things, in truth they are the same.

That said, when it comes down to it, I think the closest scene to being That Scene for this fic, was actually in Chapter 5 - not that far in at all - when they start to really pick together all the deja vu, all the inconsistencies, and start to figure out what to do. I knew I needed it to be a repeat itself, to bring back that sense of deja vu, hence:

“What do you remember?” she asks him. “Of before?” They are sat on the roof now. She’s leaning against a part of it, picking at the loose thread on the knees of her scrubs. Sometimes the wind blows her hair into her face but she doesn’t mind. Its her hair after all. He’s lying down on the roof tiles, his feet pressing against the wall of a chimney so he doesn’t slip down. He’s mulling over the question, wondering how far before she’s asking about. He can’t see her, right now though, not from his angle, so there’s no point to shrugging. His answer is the same as before, though. “My sister,” he says. “She died.” “It’s why they like us,” she say. She can see the sun setting behind the mountains, all of the myriad rich colours - red and orange and magenta against the darkening blue. The thread on her knee is stubborn though, and she can’t seem to get it loose. “HYDRA. We have lost things, had things taken from us.” He’s looking up at her now, head tilted against the tiles to watch her, his mind pulsing blue-purple-red with the sense that something about this is familiar. “Things we want but can never have back.” “I know you,” he says, “But I don’t know how.” She sighs at that. “And I know you,” she says. “Something is wrong. Something has been done to us.”

It's on a roof again, there's an echo of that thought about her hair, there's echoes of many things they've said before. It's the point when all of those echoes get so cacophonously loud that you can't ignore them anymore - which is why the next chapter is their decision to leave, and when the plot itself finally kicks off.

So I suppose, it's kind of Chapter 5 and Chapter 6, with specific parts of that being the Goals, once I got the very first scene done.

#tobermoriansass #ask games #ask #fic things #my fic

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trollcafe · 4 years

Text

Keia

Length: 1812 words TW: None that I know of, ask to tag. Brief: Rom unearths some old memories. Credits: All trolls in this are mine Here’s the song I listened to while writing this!

There were a lot of boxes in Romune’s hive that he had never bothered to open. Some were in the hall closet, some in his sleeping block. Occasionally, when feeling sentimental, Romune would pick out a random box and open it up. He had discovered a lot of things that sparked various memories from life before the hospital. He found some pictures of what he used to look like once. It was bittersweet to look at the face he used to have. The troll in the picture didn’t even really seem like him. That Romune had a different look in his eyes. That Romune just seemed…..different. He wasn’t empty but there was a hollowness to his stare. But it was sweet to look in the mirror afterwards and see a light in his gaze that wasn’t in the original image. It also sucked because he had been growing a beard out and then, of course, lost his jaw. How typical.

One of the pictures Romune had found even had a few of his old co-workers. They all wore similar Fleet-issued work uniforms. Specifically jumpsuits. One picture was Romune and a goldblood in workout gear; it looked like a selfie taken at a gym. For as long as he stared at their face….he couldn’t remember their name. Honestly, looking at their smile, their sweet face, their blue and green eyes, their curved horns, and the little scar that ran over their nose… it made his head hurt. It made his heart hurt, too.

Romune had spent many sleepless days thinking about the incident that led to him losing his limbs. He could never quite shake the unease that the situation gave him. He remembered walking down a specific road. Occasionally he would remember a landmark….a boulder on the side of the road, the boba shop next to the florist that smelled like honeysuckle no matter the time of year. He always wondered if he could find those shops again.

It wasn’t a particularly sentimental night. To be honest, the phantom pains were killing him. His arm hurt the worst. It was a horrible burning sensation in his arm; it couldn’t be helped with pain killers or going on walks or bundling up under blankets. What he could do, however, was try to ignore it. And Romune chose to ignore it by opening a box from the closet in his block. The box was one he had put off for a long while for one reason or another, he just never felt it to be the right time to open that specific box. Upon opening, the box held….clothes?

More specifically, there was one of Romune’s old sweatshirts folded neatly on top. Underneath it was a gift wrapped box complete with a crumpled little yellow ribbon. Romune sat back, criss crossing his legs to get more comfortable. His lusus lifted her head slightly as the sound of tearing paper filled the air. Of course the box was taped with duct tape, nothing could ever be EASY. It was no problem, though, the tape had aged enough to peel off without too much of a struggle. It took part of the box with it but this wasn’t exactly a gift-opening contest, was it? Rom hesitated to open the now unwrapped gift. It was as if something inside him knew to wait. Something in him said this wasn’t a good idea. Normally he was one to listen to his gut. It felt almost wrong to open this gift. Had there been a name on it? He gently set the box beside him and dug through the wrapping paper shreds to see if there had been a name other than his own written. But there was no name, no tag.

Reluctantly, Romune picked the gift back up. He set it in his lap and stared down at it with furrowed brows. It took a serious pep talk to finally pull back the top of the box.

The first thing that Romune noticed was a surprisingly strong smell of cologne. For as old as the gift was, the smell was potent, both in smell and in emotion. It forced a wave of overwhelming nostalgia upon him. Romune sat there, holding the open gift, too stunned from the intense longing to move. He didn’t even know what he was longing for. The cologne started to make his head hurt. He considered setting the gift aside and laying down instead but this whole ordeal had made his phantom pain lessen. So he continued.

He pulled out a shirt from the box. As he pulled the shirt out, an envelope flopped onto the floor in front of him. Romune nudged the box to the side for a moment and stared at the shirt. It was too big to be his own, and the color of the symbol was too purple. The more he stared at the symbol, the more his head ached. But there was something there. A memory. A troll. Someone stored in the back of his brain, waiting to come forward.

Romune didn’t know what he was doing. He brought the shirt up to his nose, closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent. The feeling of deja vu came forth, but it didn’t feel wrong. This was genuinely familiar. He just didn’t know why. Romune held the shirt close, willing it to bring forth the memory of the owner. And yet…..nothing. The longing was replaced with a deep-rooted sadness. As if his own heart was upset that he couldn’t remember.

Romune folded the shirt back up into a neat square, and set it to his side. He let his gaze linger on it for another second, as if that sole second could conjure up the proper memories. When nothing happened, he turned to the letter. His name was hand written on the front of the envelope. It looked hastily done, and punctuated with a little exclamation mark. Romune! That was him alright! Romune. Someone had written a letter for Romune.

But not this Romune, the Romune with the hollowness in his eyes and the scruffy face; the Romune with the goldblood friend. The Romune who died on the operating table. Not this Romune.

It almost felt wrong to open the letter. The tear was jagged and uneven, messy at best. He wasn’t sure if it was his hand shaking from nerves or the slight ache that remained. The letter inside was folded haphazardly. It was handwritten as well. But it looked like whoever wrote it had spent actual time on it, unlike the name on the front of the letter. He took his time to read every word, take in everything.

To say reading the letter was an emotional rollercoaster was an understatement.

The name at the end of the letter is what caused Romune the greatest amount of grief. He stared at it, begging for something. It was at the tip of his tongue. There was SOMETHING there. He had to work for it, but he could feel the gears turning in his head as he grasped for the straws of a memory.

Magnus. Who was Magnus-?

It hit Romune hard. The more he stared at the name, the more he could picture a face, until it suddenly became clear as day. Messy hair pulled back in a bun, square jaw, long ears. He had a goatee. There were strands of hair falling down into his face. His eyes weren’t really blue, but they weren’t really purple, either. His horns were curved with spikes. Specifically, Romune remembered him with a hair tie between his teeth. Magnus was grinning, brow cocked, walking backwards. Where was he going? Mentally, Romune reached for him, desperate to pull him close and ask. But as quick as he came, Magnus was gone.

When Romune returned to Alternia, he realized his cheeks were wet with tears. One of them had splashed down onto the paper and smeared the ink by Magnus’ name. Romune sniffled slightly and brushed away the rest of the teardrop before folding the letter back up. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

HyenaMom realized something was wrong, and stood up from her bed in the corner. She gave a big long stretch before making her way to her charge, and laid behind him. She curled up behind Romune’s back and whimpered. He leaned back just slightly, then decided to lay down on the floor instead. He used his lusus as a pillow and stared up at the boring ceiling while his emotions swirled in his chest. And the phantom pain resurfaced.

He carefully rested his organic hand on his robotic shoulder. The shirt laid, now slightly tousled, within reach of his robotic hand. Romune slowly grabbed it and brought it back to his face. He begged for the smell to bring him the same sense of nostalgia and security. He wanted to feel warm again. He wanted to feel like Magnus was there again. But nothing happened. The smell was so faint, it was practically a memory.

But what the shirt did bring back, was the faintest memory of a voice.

“You said no, right?”

Romune had the feeling he had said yes. What did he say yes to? To working. He agreed to work. To cover someone’s shift at the ship repair sight. It was a different site, not his usual place of business. Who was he covering for? He strained to think of a name. No name popped up, but the smiling goldblood with the blue and green eyes came to mind. Them. He was covering for them.

Romune had agreed to cover the goldblood’s shift at the ship repair sight. It was starting to come back to him, slowly but surely. Magnus had stopped by unexpectedly. Romune didn’t really remember from where, what Magnus had been doing. What Romune did remember, was opening the door to leave and seeing Magnus standing there. And in his hand was the box. The box that Romune had just opened.

The box meant for the Romune with the hollow eyes and the scruffy face, who covered a shift for a goldblood and got blown up. Not the Romune with the metal limbs and metal jaw, who doesn’t cover shifts because he’s the only intern.

If Magnus was alive, Romune was certain he had moved on. Or maybe he died in the explosion. Wherever he was, he was obviously happy. No Magnus had ever stopped by his hive, at least not that Romune could remember.

Romune found himself hoping Magnus had died. He hid his face in the shirt, silently begging it to bring him anything. Any sense of comfort. Or more memories of Magnus. He wanted so badly to remember more about this mysterious purpleblooded man with the long hair and curved horns.

( Do you wish to read the contents of the letter? )

#ghost.art #drabbles #romune #magnus #romune iscatu

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years

Text

Deja Vu

I have Asperger Syndrome, so I understand what it feels like to have everyone mad at you for saying the “wrong” thing.

Why does it happen? In my case, it usually comes down to this. Aspie cracks some stupid, wicked inappropriate joke. The neurotypicals in the room laugh uncomfortably, sort of as a discreet way of saying "knock it off". Aspie misses the nonverbal message completely, and cracks more inappropriate jokes. The neurotypical, wanting to keep the social order, smiles and nods.

The minute you leave, they go behind everyone's back and gossip about you. They badmouth you. Next thing you know, everyone's mad at you. Everyone waits for you to screw up so they can pounce on you. Sometimes, they even set you up to fail just so they can lay it on you the minute you screw up.

The best you can do is just try and watch yourself so you don't say or do anything stupid, which is actually a lot harder than it looks. You don't know what'll set people off. And believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way when I snuck out of the house in sophomore year.

The night I snuck out of the house, I met up with my friends Siobhan and Christian. As we waited in a slow moving line at the McDonald’s, Siobhan commented, “This line stretches all the way to Morocco.”

I nodded and chuckled. “Yeah,” I replied, “you ain't seen a line like this.” As I said this, I momentarily forgot that she was blind. It didn’t matter. She and I laughed it off like it was nothing.

Or, at least I thought it was nothing. The person standing behind us didn’t agree. “That’s not funny” she snipped.

I turned around and looked at her. “What?” I said.

“I heard everything you said”

I shrugged. “I was making a joke, it’s nothing,” I replied politely.

The woman shook her head and rolled her eyes. “ It's the 21st century,” she barked at me in a moralizing tone. “Nowadays, even nothing is something.”

As she scolded me, I couldn’t help but notice what she was wearing. She wore a suit that looked like a green, stripy pool table and a pink shirt with black polka dots underneath. It made her look like a watermelon. It didn't help that she was fat. I couldn't stop thinking, watermelon. Watermelon. That woman looks like a watermelon. Watermelon.

It was our turn to order. We got our food, and we headed back to Christian’s car. On our way out, the woman in the watermelon suit gave me the bird. I meant to say “whatever”, but I accidentally blurted out, “Watermelon”

And that was the end. We did what we set out to do, I got home, and my parents were none the wiser. And my sneaking out would have just become another adolescent memory had it not been for this.

Roughly three weeks after the whole incident took place, I had to attend a emergency disciplinary hearing. When I got to the guidance counsellor’s office, she didn’t greet me with “Hi” or “Hello”. Instead, she said, “Judith, I heard about what I said to Siobhan at McDonald's.”

I sat there, confused. “How?”

The guidance counsellor exhaled sharply out her nose. “What you said was considered extremely ableist.”

I shrugged. “So, you know the fat woman from McDonald’s? Did she rat me out?”

“Judith,” she continued, “the person behind you in line at McDonald's that night was Vivienne McCandless, a close friend of mine.” She then raised her eyebrows menacingly. “Speaking of which, you also call her a watermelon”

“By mistake”

“Doesn’t matter.” Her eyes felt like they’d piece my skin. “In fact, I would recommend that to fully understand the scope of your actions, you must write a five-page apology letter to all marginalized individuals.”

And then it came. The ultimatum. I got suspended.

Getting suspended felt weird, like when you're in a different city and Seinfeld comes on at a different time than it does at home. I was in shock. In fact; I felt a bit sick to my stomach. And it wasn't just because I got suspended.

Here's where things started to freak me out. I was writing my apology letter and my computer began to hang. One minute, I was typing, and the next; it stopped working. After a few seconds, it just shut off with no warning. For a second, I thought it was broken. I tried jiggling the switch, and to my surprise, it came back on. There was only one problem. It decided to update its operating system, and all my files were wiped. Worse, the auto install for the new operating system got to 85%, then it crashed. "Holy shit" I said under my breath, "this thing is worse than having cancer!"

No sooner than two minutes after I said that, the phone rang. I didn’t answer, so it went to voicemail. But the message scared the ever loving crap out of me:

Hi Judith, it's Vivienne. Who the FUCK do you think you are?! How can you live with yourself?! How fucking DARE you compare a computer failure to cancer! You don't know what I've been through! I've ACTUALLY HAD CANCER, you fucking ignoramus! I hope you fuck off and die, you bitch!

I started shaking. I felt sick to my stomach. At that moment, I got the feeling that Vivienne found a way to follow me around, waiting for me to drop my guard.

Could she have been stalking me? How'd she know my name and phone number? How did she know what I'd said? I was in my own house, and nobody else was home. Did that mean she had enough information to bug every room of my house? I hoped to God that she hadn’t. If so, then that would mean that she was always watching me.

It's hard for anyone (much less a person with Asperger's) to watch what they say so that they don't hit anyone's murder buttons. You don't know what'll set people off. You also don't know who will overhear, nor will you know where they'll be. And just because you’re home doesn’t mean people aren’t watching you, listening to every word you say, and looking for something to take offense to.

I’m not going to take it. This is too far. I’m not going to stand for someone waiting for me to screw up so she can relentlessly berate me for having a social skills disability.

I called back. I hauled off and said to her, "OK, Vivienne, you don't know me, and I don't know you, this has got to stop. You cannot stalk and harass someone just because they said something that made you feel uncomfortable. Alright? I get it, I made a mistake, and I apologize. We all make mistakes, but relentlessly stalking people and badgering them when they make a mistake is inexcusable. Just fuck off and move on like a sensible adult."

What she said next surprised me. "Come and find me,” she said just before texting me an address.

Usually when I'm confronted with an address I don't know, I check the address on Google first to see if it’s legit. Since my computer crashed, Google Earth was no longer an option. I had to actually go there.

I was shocked to discover that the address Vivienne gave me wasn't for an apartment. The street and house number went to a cemetery, while the apartment number was for a gravestone. I was really spooked when I saw the name on the gravestone:

Vivienne Jane McCandless

At first, I thought that somehow between now and my first incident with her, she'd died. Nope. Wrong again. My jaw dropped when I saw the date of death on the gravestone: Vivienne had died six days before I was born.

#writing #writers on tumblr #writers #creative writing #short fiction #short story #creepy #nosleep

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