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lesnodziadyzm · 2 years

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Completed Naruto fanfiction recommendations, part 1

List with summaries under the cut.

Hoshigaki by writer168

When Sakura was three, her father told her he was a criminal. When she was seven, the last thing she saw of him was the sword on his back. When she was eight, she had a friend named Kiba. When they were twelve, they met Shino. And when they were genin, they began to fight for the truth because they could no longer fight for the sake of Konoha.

***

Eight (sequel to Hoshigaki) by writer168

The Third Hokage was dead. It wasn't enough. Team Eight knew loss like the seals on the backs of their tongues. They'd been silenced, branded, abandoned, ambushed, left on the enemy's doorstop like a gift--unlucky was their nickname, but they would make it their trade. The Third Hokage was dead. It was Danzo's turn.

***

Pulling My Weight by itsthechocopuff

During their mission to Wave, Sakura realises how behind she is in her training and decides to do something about it. She vows to become a shinobi her Village and her teammates can respect and depend on. But Sakura has always been a paper-ninja, so her first stop for inspiration is the library where she finds unexpected help in the form of one very bored tokujo who quickly goes on to become an integral part of her life. Soon, despite the neglect of her sensei and all odds seemingly against her, Sakura's destiny begins to change.

***

Dirt and Ashes, or: The One-and-a-Half Body Problem by Tozette

The invasion of Konoha during the chuunin exam didn't fail. Team seven is broken, people are dead, and Sakura is hurt and frightened and a very long way from home. Alternative summary: In which Sakura carries half of Hidan across two countries, leaving a trail of blood, bodies, and other people's legs.

***

Bloodstained Hands in a World of White by dogloser

Kakashi had never entirely understood the Kamui Sharingan. It was supposed to have killed him in his fight against Pein, and yet he somehow wakes up - within his thirteen-year-old body and without Obito's Sharingan, no less. Stranded in a new but old second life, Hatake Kakashi determines that he will fix what he had broken, so many years ago, all while he fears that a broken man will only do what he knows best, and continue to break everything he touches.

(Or: Team Minato worries about their loneliest team member, especially when he starts acting nice to Obito and looks at Rin and Minato like they're ghosts. Kakashi tries to shut them out and pull them closer at the same time, and he swears he will keep his promise this time around.)

***

Time Flows Like Ink by GwendolynStacy

After a fuinjutsu experiment gone wrong, Minato is yanked into a future where his family is dead, his team fell apart and the Uchiha were slaughtered. With the defective seal burning in his palm, Minato struggles to stay afloat in a Konoha that isn’t his.

***

Sing as their bones go marching in again by felinedetached

Instead, it goes like this: Haruno Sakura is the daughter of two civilians, from civilian families. She is nothing and no one—smart, yes, top kunoichi, yes, but she will never be on par with clan kids. She is teammates to an orphan powerhouse from a dead clan and the last remaining Uchiha.

Haruno Sakura is nothing and nobody, but she breathes and grows and thrives and the forest thrives with her.

(She opens her eyes to wood, grown from nothing, and Hatake Kakashi stares in disbelief at the tree where his student used to be.)

***

survival of the fittest by cywscross

Sakura is thirteen, still a Genin, lost in the middle of Earth Country, lugging an unconscious Chuunin around, and so far beyond scared that she’s moved right on to pissed off.

***

The Infinitely Curious Woman by chararii

Sakura is thirteen when she first finds the journals. Sakura is fourteen when she has studied enough to understand them. Sakura is eighteen when she finally accepts what she has become.

The air around her tastes like victory and she thrives in it.

***

Satori (Between the Lines) by jaylene

While attending the Academy, Sakura's field experience assignment with the Konohagakure Intelligence Division ends up being more valuable than she'd ever guess.

***

Trials of Change by Espoiretreves

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life.

Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War.

Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

***

Waves by IncompleteSentanc

Sakura dies on October 10th with green eyes that slowly lose their shine and bright pink hair that turns dark with blood. Then Sakura is born on January 12th with dark blue eyes that get lighter and lighter and red hair so dark it looks black more often than not.

She doesn't know it immediately, but she's a child reborn and time is reborn with her. It's time for a change, and Sakura will do all she can to bring it - for one reason or another. She's a woman reborn, and she's already died once before. What more does she have to fear?

***

tired to his very bones by cheshire_carroll

“You killed Izuna!” Madara snarls, as if Izuna’s death is a heinous, unspeakable crime, instead of just another one of the countless casualties of war.

Usually, Tobirama would remain icily silent on this matter– he may be an “ice-cold bastard” at the best of times, but he does possess enough heart to be kind, even to his once-enemies.

Usually, he is functioning on more sleep.

***

sabotage by stirringwinds

“Itachi,” His mentor and commanding officer says grimly, his single visible eye angry, the line of his jaw tense under the black of his mask. “You forget that I was the Yondaime’s student. I may not be as politically influential as those old codgers sitting on the council, but there is plenty I can do to try and stop this shitshow.”

The horrible, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach hasn't vanished. But, staring at the firm, unflinching expression on his captain’s face, he feels the tiniest flicker of…hope.

Or: In another universe, Itachi breaks down and ends up spilling the beans to Hatake Kakashi.

***

Shinra Tensei by multifandom_fanfic_writer

The world of shinobi is a harsh one, full of shades of grey. In the aftermath of Sasuke's death, Sakura changes. Konoha does not notice.

Slowly but surely, Sakura's loyalty to Konoha wavers, and starts to reach its breaking point...

(A story about Sakura finding her strength; her identity; her new family. A story about how there is no good and bad in a world full of trained killers. A story about how to deal with that.)

***

before you by theformerone

When she is somersaulted back in time to Uzushio before it was Uzushio, with Kurama's yin chakra folded into the seal on her forehead, heart bursting with loss and the weight of her burden, she tells them her name is Tsubaki.

Uzumaki Mito looks at her like she is an enemy.

***

Masks by madstoryteller999

Sakura's Inner is far more diabolical than anyone ever expected, crows demonstrate themselves to be cruel mentors, the complications of selfdom in ANBU are realized, and Sakura comes to learn exactly how much she hates Kakashi (and how alike they are in the most terrible of ways).

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfiction recommendation #naruto recs

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ashfordlabs · 9 months

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🪼🪓💀

thank you for the ask!! these were really fun questions to answer.

🪼: what would your character do if they were stranded at sea or trapped underwater with monsters? (it could be sea gods, merpeople, sirens, etc.) or maybe they’re stuck in a coastal town where they’re sacrificing people to the sea. what do they do? / i'm going to try my best with this one, because none of them would be able to handle anything coastal (maybe theo and eli, definitely not the twins). eli would probably be the only one capable of surviving against anything that isn't sirens (because he would fucking die to them), very much final girl status with him. dorothea and henry would survive purely because they wouldn't be caught dead in the water, they would be there at the beginning, realise shit is happening, and fucking leave like smart people. mayumi would either be the first to die or be the creature killing people because that's just fitting. theo,,, i have no idea? he would either die to save eli or get seriously injured that he somehow lives and gets carried off into ambulance before the credits roll. 🪓: does your character have an axe to grind? a need for bloody vengeance against someone who wronged them? why? / ah, this question fits mayumi perfectly. woman gets murdered by nathaniel ashford and stuck in the living world as a ghost because she's unable to move on. why? she doesn't know, she just wants justice/revenge and it's theo who theorises that she won't pass on until she gets just that (i will not be confirming or denying if that is). so she drags theo into it all, when all theo wants to do is just anything but that (yes, he feels guilty but he's used to just ignoring the shit his brother does), and with it, she eventually gets eli, henry and dorothea involved, mainly because she knows they'll do a better job than theo on his own. admittedly, mayumi barely does anything outside of watching on thanks to the limitations of being dead, she can interact with objects, but not harm people, something she learned the hard way after she spent over an hour trying to kill nathaniel in various ways before going to theo. but everything that does happen, whether good or bad, happens for her. 💀: is your character afraid of dying? if so, how far would they go to cheat death? / mayumi is terrified when she's dying that she focuses on the fact that theo is there basically holding her for most of it, especially because it begins slow before nathaniel steps in, and i think in a different universe, someone would take pity on her and let her live once again, but in cursed bodies, she's just a ghost. henry's interesting because i could never imagine him dying brutally like anyone else. i can't explain it, but he would most certainly die in a way that allows him to accept that it's happening therefore, he wouldn't fear death nor go to cheat it. this is kind of the same with dorothea. while both do things that would get them killed to keep them silent, somehow they would live until they're old and just die in their sleep or something like that. no need to fear death or cheat. eli, he would hands down be the kind of character who would cheat death in any way that he would. he kinda has a death wish in the way that he's just annoying that someone would be bound to just shoot him in the head and somehow he would walk away from it. it would be a klaus hargreeves situation from umbrella academy where he dodges death to the point where death would hate him for it and try to kill him themself.

horror themed ask (pt 2)

#( b ) speaks.#i would have answered that last one with theo #but there maybe some little plot implications with his answer #that i won't delve into #( cb / character ) mayumi sakamoto.#( cb / character ) henry bohen.#( cb / character ) dorothea bohen.#( cb / character ) eli clarke.#( cb / character ) theodore ashford.#( wip ) cursed bodies.

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thedorklegacy · 1 year

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The Dork Legacy 3.1 part 7

I remade the "Romance Sim Bedroom."

Willoughby: zzzzz...totally make out with myself....zzzz...

Uh...Miyazaki? I don't think that's gonna happen.

Ghosts!

Bao-Dur: Man! Why'd I hafta die? I was so ultra-groovy!

The Dead Milkmen Heirs wall.

Complete with angry grave possession!

Oh, I was wrong. It was just Tara diving into Caedmon's grave so they could WooHoo Beyond The Grave. :D

Trying even harder to secure the biggest place in my heart, Shelby rolls the MOST ADORABLE WANT EVER. <333

She's very in touch with her inner child.

sim_rants members may recall some default replacements that gave horrible tubewaist to all the female work uniforms...well, they're fixed now. Definitely a little top-heavy, but I really wanted those flared pants. :P

Willoughby: Fuck default replacements! I look good as I am!

Yes you do.

The kittens grew up! This is Lillend!

And Filcher. Notice anything unusual?

He's GOT A PINK TAIL! I have NO idea where that came from, but he is kitty!heir because of it!

...You won't make me change my mind. Man, that's some colourful dust!

I love how sim pets will come to YOU to be scolded. I know mine don't do that.

Look! It's like my two favourite sims!

Bilbo: lol i'm neo.

Algren: *is awesome*

But we...really don't need any more money. You guys have like 150k and two vacation homes. >.>

The end! :D

I realise I didn't get much of a chance to put much actual dorkiness in this update, so I made up for it by being a huge dork at captioning. That's the same, right? :P

Next update: The kids and final kitten grow up! Some people will probably get old! And who knows what else will happen?! (I don't, I stopped playing after that last picture. :P)

Originally posted at katu_sims.

#the dork legacy #gen3

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raitrolling · 2 years

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All of the background questions for whoever you have the most muse for atm :)

glas brainrot time

1. Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

They were hatched in the caverns like every other troll. They'd consider their childhood to be pretty normal! Y'know, aside from inheriting their ancestor's mansion that was Incredibly Haunted by the victims of The Countess' murders. They weren't aware that ghosts were real at the time, however, so they always chalked it up as them having an overactive imagination. Otherwise, they were a quiet kid with no friends thanks to growing up in an isolated forest, so they just had books to keep them company.

2. What’s their family like?

Glas' lusus is a cute little hedgehog, who did pretty well with raising them. They treat hedgehogmum more like a pet nowadays, but she doesn't seem to mind, after all those sweeps of raising her charge she probably deserves to be looked after. She also likes to hang out in Glas' coat pockets so they often end up taking her to work with them.

They also know of their ancestor considering that they live in her hive, but obviously never met her in person because The Countess was long dead by then. They don't really have any interest in learning more about her, but they appreciate the free place to live so they didn't have to deal with carpenter drones way back when.

3. What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

Glas is the Head Records Manager of Gaia's Investigations team, which as the title indicates they're in charge of managing all of Investigations' case files and documents. They're aiming to be promoted to Head Archivist of the entire organisation, but given recent developments that's definitely a long ways off rifp

4. How do they fit into their “story”?

tbh idk how to answer this since I don't have an overarching plot for my characters, so they just kinda. Exist lmao

A lot of their story at the moment is just them going out and meeting new people since they spent most of their life not having any friends and then lost p much an entire sweep to a possession, and having other people to talk to seems to distract them from that trauma. Oh and attempting to woo their boss palewise but also not realising their feelings are mutual and also also not really wanting to Confront That because oh god the mortifying ordeal of being Known LMAO

5. Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

They still live in their ancestor's mansion, known as Nightfall Manor. It's a big old gothic thing full of ghosts and a torture basement, but Glas has been in the process of fixing it up. Gothic mansions are kinda boring to live in! So they've been getting new modern furniture, painting the walls some brighter creams, getting a bunch of plants, and they installed a fish tank in the torture basement to liven things up down there. Historians weep at them gentrifying the building.

6. How do they eventually die?

i dont plot character deaths so idfk lmao

If they don't end up getting killed by their own stupidity, they'll probs just live a very long, chill life before old age finally gets them. But let's be real here they will end up getting killed by their own stupidity.

#asks #cadavertrolls #headcanon #glasya elliss #ty!

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astorytotellyourfriends · 3 years

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(💜 me again, if these are bothering you or taking up too much of your time or anything feel free to tell me to stop! I won’t be offended, I don’t want to be annoying!) Ok, but you sparked a funny little idea for me, and it’s sunset curve sleepover, Bobby thinks they’re weird edition, where they’re playing stupid stuff like truth or dare and telling ghost stories lol! (Oh! And btw! I had NO idea people in California didn’t have basements! Where I live basements basically don’t exist, and I literally thought every American house had a basement 💀 lol!!) Ok anyway, so Luke’s parents go to bed and Luke is like “ok, how the real fun can start” and Bobby is like, ok, here we go this is where they’re gonna finally pull out the vodka and weed, they were just acting like kids until his mom went to bed i get it… and Luke is just…. Shining a flashlight onto his face like “once upon a time there was an old mansion…” and Bobby is literally like…. Ok I am officially deceased lol, these guys are seriously telling ghost stories right now 💀💀💀 and then they’re playing truth or dare and Bobby thinks it’s probably going to be some scandalous stuff like asking about hook ups or whatever and Reggie picks truth and Luke is like “ok…. Did you take my blue eraser in third period history, be honest because I want it back” and Bobby is just like 💀💀💀 this is insane……. I literally find it the funniest thing ever that Luke, Reggie and Alex are secretly lil dorks who are actual angels who have never done a thing in their lives but think they’re super cool and dangerous because their band plays in clubs and Bobby actually IS super cool and not used to that stuff AT ALL but comes to find it SO ENDEARING! Bobby learning to have fun is my thing???? Like… Bobby doesn’t think he’s laughed as much in years as he did when Luke and Alex are were trying to get Reggie to eat a spoon of hot sauce on a dare but he kept screaming and Luke kept covering his mouth and saying his mom was going go crazy! Oooh and Bobby finding out more about them! Like maybe he asks Alex as a truth if he has a crush on any girls and is really confused when he gets a bunch of weird looks back and Luke is having a long conversation with Alex in just a look and Reggie is saying “so we should tell him?” After watching their look Bobby has no idea how they managed to have a conversation with no words but whatever. Reggie tells him Alex is gay, Alex does look a little nervous but Bobby realises with surprise he doesn’t even care, Alex was a nice guy so it didn’t matter, but he must have some kind of look on his face because Luke is asking “do you have a problem with that?” And Bobby says no right away, because even if he did Luke looked ready to commit a crime if he said yes and he didn’t want to be strangled by Luke right here in the Patterson’s living room. It was weird though, because Reggie and Luke were all set up to sleep either side of Alex, and Bobby doesn’t know any other guy at school who would do that. (Okay sorry this is gotten long enough so I’m gonna go haha!)

ok today has been another crazy day and i only have like ten minutes until my nieces are coming over BUT i've been thinking about this all day so i wanted to try and get some feelings out!!

i am also obsessed with Bobby constantly being like "are you fucking kidding me" when it comes to how the others choose to spend their time during their sleepovers pleeeeease omg it's so good! he's just so used to having to act tough and go along with what his other friends say and do that now that he's around the sweet baby angels of Sunset Curve he's like ... what have i gotten myself into??

and like, i can't help but think at first he's like am i in the fucking twilight zone like you guys cannOT be serious!! but like none of them see anything wrong with how they choose to spend their time and like, they're all having fun so why wouldn't they keep doing these fun things???

but maybe like after the ghost stories (which i'm DEAD thinking about luke and that fucking flashlight oh my god he totally would do that) they start on truth or dare and you're right Bobby would totally expect the juicy stuff to finally happen and then when it's still TOTALLY PG he probably can't stop himself from blurting something out like "are you fucking serious" and the other three just like. freeze.

because they're all like what are you talking about because this is totally normal for them and maybe they haven't really picked up on the fact that Bobby keeps staring at them in complete disbelief, so finally Alex is like "did we do something wrong" because he thinks maybe Bobby is uncomfortable or something

and so Bobby maybe starts to explain what his other friends normally do and omg i could totally see Reggie's eyes getting super wide because oh my god you do those things???? and like he's even more in awe of Bobby than before and poor Alex gets all anxious because he's like well... we don't have things like that... and... we don't know how to get them anyway... and maybe Luke even tries to play it off like he's totally done some of those things meanwhile Alex and Reggie are like bro no you haven't wtf

and so then Luke tries to recover his credibility in front of Bobby and then maybe Bobby's like dude i'm not saying we have to do those things i'm just saying like this is different, is all! and then sweet baby Reggie is like "...do you think we're lame? because i never thought we were lame before but now i think we sound kinda lame" 🥺🥺 and Bobby is just like no Reg you're not lame you're just different and that's okay!

i also totally love your idea of Alex trying to come out to Bobby and Luke being so ready to throw hands if Bobby says anything bad about him or like doesn't immediately accept Alex i just 😭😭 THEY'RE SO SUPPORTIVE OF EACH OTHER AND BOBBY WILL FIT IN WITH THEIR LITTLE TRIO HE JUST NEEDS A BIT MORE TIME!!!

ugh i'm soft. how do you keep doing this to me!!!!!

#answered #Anonymous #bobby x luke #fic ideas #also i 100% got your other ask and i will respond to it but my ten minutes are up #purple heart anon

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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Hullo! I was wondering if you knew any johnlock fics where Sherlock thinks that they're in a relationship but they're not? Thanks!

AMBIGUOUS RELATIONSHIPS

Hey Lovely!

Sorry for the title above, I use them now to quickly ID a post when I draft them, LOL LOL!!

I only know of a few fics that is almost exactly this criteria:

A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (G, 934 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance) – As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn’t Know He’s Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine’s Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He’s also pretty sure that John doesn’t know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Winter’s Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter’s Delights

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, 23,584 w., 9 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Drama, Fluff & Angst, Humour, Romance) – Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And “Anthea”, too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse

The Soul Remembers by i_ship_an_armada (E, 43,636 w., 10 Ch. || Oblivion AU || Post-Apocalypse, Movie Fusion, Science Fiction, Action/Adventure, Angst, Dreams, Bittersweet Ending) – John Watson is the lone security repairman stationed on a desolate, nearly-ruined future Earth. His dreams are plagued by a tall, dark-haired man, and when his dreams meet reality, he will be forced to question everything he believes is the truth about his life.

——

And here are several others that are close-but-not-quite:

So, this is normal for us now? by TooManyChoices (M, 1,445 w., 1 Ch. || Bed Sharing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Est. Rel., Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have been sharing a flat, and a life for some time. This is a story of how the glacially slow movement of their relationship makes another agonising crawl forward another inch.

The Case of the Made-Up Case by DoubleNegative (T, 2,394, 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Clubbing, First Kiss, For Science) - Sherlock takes John to a club. For a “case.” Yes, John, a case. Part 1 of The (Secret) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Get It All in Writing by aceofhearts61 (T, 2,423 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock / Straight John, Love Letters, Romantic Friendship, Asexuality, Schmoop) – Sherlock and John write each other love notes. Part 8 of A Love with No Name

Surety by hudders (G, 2,477 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Drunk John, Drunk Lestrade, Drinking, Alcohol) – Sherlock is pissed because it seems that four pints of larger, two shots of tequila and a glass of wine has resulted in Lestrade becoming a little bit too friendly with everyone. And by everyone, Sherlock really means John.

Where You Are by Mazarin221b (E, 2,478 w., 1 Ch. || Beach Sex, First Time, Fluff, Smut, Holidays, Pining) – He can admit he’s secretly a little glad Sherlock didn’t come with him. He needs a break. Sherlock is a handful at the best of times, and the near-constant apologizing, fixing, dealing-with, and following up on is exhausting. The near-constant unrequited attraction is a bit exhausting, too, to be honest, and John could really use a tiny bit of rest from the relentless hammering on his brain and heart.

Rooftop Confession by Random_Nexus (T, 2,514 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Friendship / Love, Angsty Fluff) – Sherlock asks John to join him for a slightly unexpected discussion.

Bagged & Tagged by Regency (T, 3,339 w., 1 Ch. || Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Crack, Marriage Proposal) – A very inebriated John devises a clever means of proposing marriage to Sherlock. Unfortunately he’s forgotten all about it by the next morning.

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR, 3,364 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pride Parade, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance.

Christmas at Holmes Cottage by johnlockedstarkid (G, 4,295 w., 7 Ch. || Christmas, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Holmes Family, Pining, Kisses, Fluff, Allusions to Mystrade) – Sherlock doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother’s wishes for him to find a partner when he goes to visit them for Christmas, so asks John to pose as his boyfriend. Little does he know he’s not the only one who wishes that the relationship could be real.

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 5 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in “The Abominable Bride” universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock’s quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

Five Times John Noticed But Didn’t Really by ScandalousMinds (T, 6,383 w., 5 Ch. || Domestics, Fluff/Angst, Bratty Sherlock, Idiots, Pre-Slash, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions) – 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock’s relationship but really missed the obvious.

that thing you like by misspamela (E, 7,165 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers) – “Happy Christmas, etc. etc.” Sherlock and John go to the Holmes’ for Christmas, and everyone thinks they’re together.

Unkissed by 221b_hound (E, 7,506 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, John Thinks Sherlock is Ace, Dream-Merman-John, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Hugs, Sherlock Doesn’t Realize They’re in a Relationship) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change. Part 1 of the Unkissed series

What Meets the Eye by worldaccordingtofangirls (M, 8,251 w., 1 Ch. || Amnesia, Fluff, Hospital) – Amnesia is just another case to solve. Piece together unfamiliar faces, reconstruct the old identity, the lost reality. A challenge that Sherlock could even enjoy. He can read people like books. The man with the silver hair is his boss. The tottering old woman, his landlady. The girl with the worried look in her eyes… infatuated. And as for John Watson? His husband. Obviously.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

The River Variations by withoutawish (T, 11,619 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Three Garridebs, Romance, Light Case Fic, Near Death Experience, Angst and Fluff, Dark Humour) – John Watson never knew that he wanted a ‘no toast in the mornings’ normal until he realized what an honor it is to be destroyed by Sherlock Holmes.

John Watson doesn’t have a Boyfriend by naughtyspirit (E, 18,932 w., 7 Ch. || UST / URT, Fluff & Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – John’s date has gone very well. Sherlock requires tea. John wishes he hadn’t resolved that their relationship was strictly hands off and isn’t about to address it. Unless he has to. Smut, fluff and shower time for a naked John Watson.

Just a Kiss by emmagrant01 (E, 19,695 w., 7 Ch. || 5+1, Case Fic) – Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slowburn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn’t where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

5 Times John Got the Girl (and lost her) and 1 Time John Got the Guy (and kept him) by LiviKate (M, 21,695 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Kissing, Oblivious / Awkward Sherlock, BAMF / Sexy / Stud John, Embarassed John, John’s Scar, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock) – John has always had good luck with the ladies. He’s charming, friendly and funny, not to mention great in bed. However, his usual skill with the opposite sex is constantly being thwarted by Sherlock and his outbursts. How will John ever get a leg over when Sherlock is always cockblocking him?

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Among the Secret Things by Kate_Lear for coloredink (E, 26,073 w., 14 Ch. || Angst, Drama, Amnesia) – Sherlock would be the last person to describe himself as given to flights of fancy, but at the look on Lestrade’s face he could swear that something inside him curls up and dies. Part 1 of Among the Secret Things

Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w., 6 Ch. || 5+1, Slow Burn, Fluff / Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers) – A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

An Experiment in Empathy Series by belovedmuerto (T, 62,397 w. across 13 stories || Empath AU || Psychic John, Psychic-by-Proxy Sherlock, Empathy, Psychic Bond, Romance / Bromance) – In which John is an empath, Sherlock is Sherlock, and an epic bromance happens. In the aftermath of The Great Game, John creates an unexpected bond between himself and Sherlock. Now they have to learn how to deal with it. John is better at this than Sherlock is.

——-

BUT I have done a list in the past called “Do They Know They’re in a Relationship?” so I think you will enjoy that one too :)

If any of my Lovelies have any fics that meet the criteria, please let us know!!! Otherwise in the meantime, I think you’ll also enjoy these lists :)

#chaotic-porcupine #fake relationship #relationships #are they together #ambiguous relationship

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torikyles55 · 4 years

Text

Belphegor X Reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Word count: 4900

Warnings: language, violence, end of main story gets a bit spicy

|||||

You can't come into my life,

Make me completely fall in love,

And then just leave.

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Prologue

A chill in the air is what disturbs your slumber. Your eyes slowly open a vaguely familliar voice echoing in your head from your dream.

"Welcome to the end."

Shaking your head to try and wake up a bit, you turn onto your side to check the clock on your bedstand table, seeing that it reads twelve (12) PM.

"How the hell am I only waking up now?" You mutter mostly to yourself, before groaning and leaning back against your pillows. The chill is still in the air, and you sigh again before reaching over blindly to fumble with the lamp on your nightstand table.

Clicking it on, you wait until your eyes adjust, before swinging your legs off the bed.

With all of this running through your head, paired with the fact that you can now see your breath, you can only assume the worst.

A slight flicker of light from the lamp makes you freeze, and you look over to it. You were always very careful with your lighting, changing the bulbs in every room at least once every three months, and you had just changed this bulb last week. The power never malfunctions in this town either.

Ghost.

Flinging yourself off the bed, you hear a shriek of laughter from the other side of your bed as you reach under it and pull out your hoola hoop. That's right. you're going to stop a ghost with a hoola hoop. stepping into the rather large ring, you shuffle around the room, making sure to keep your feet inside the hoola hoop as you grab your iron, salt infused knuckles from the drawer of your nightstand and your rocksalt gun from behind it.

The blood spattered clown howls with laughter at it tries to approach you with it's knife, but it quickly finds itself unable to get past your hoola hoop.

"Haha salt circle triumps ghost even if it's inside a hoola hoop. Bitch you've been defeatetd by a freaking hoola hoop." You let out your own mocking laugh, but don't take the time to gloat before heading towards the stairs.

"Now lets deal with you after I figure out how you got past my other defenses... stay here you ugly bastard."

Main story

"Woah easy! Don't shoot damnit!" The shorter man drops down into a crouch beside the taller one, his eyes trained on his ally as you wince and reload your shotgun.

"It's just rock salt. Hurts like a bitch but it won't kill him. Who are you?" Your tone is clipped as the taller man groans, bringing one hand up to his chest as he drops his head back against the floor.

Another bang echoes throughout the house as you shoot the ghost through the head, and it disappears. Your eyes are hard as you keep yourself alert, and the second you hear the slightest whoosh of air, you're swiveling on the balls of your feet to face the ghost again, shooting it in the chest this time. Only this time it's not a ghost, and the person flies back as the rock salt hits them.

"I'm fine Dean." His voice sounds pained, and for a moment, you pity him. But then your walls are back up and you're rolling back your shoulders and starting to scan the room once again.

The taller man grunts out a yes as he rises to his feet, rubbing the sore spot on his chest.

"You a hunter?" 'Dean' speaks curiously as he finally looks around the room, seeing the weapons on the walls and the extensive amount of bookshelves full of old books on even older creatures. You sweep the empty shotgun shells into a corner with your foot, and give a swift nod.

"Yeah. You?"

"Sam? Dean?" A low voice calls out from upstairs, and you narrow your eyes, readying your shotgun once again, but as the sound of footsteps echo down the steps, you lower it. A ghost wouldn't approach with so much noise. They're smarter then that.

"Who are they?" Jerking your chin towards the two newcomers, you turn to finish the spell you had started on the table. Knowing that the two men were hunters gave you a sense of reassurance, as it's hunter rules to always watch eachothers backs.

"Right yeah. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean. Then the guy in a trenchcoat is Castiel and glasses is Belphegor." Their first names seem slightly familliar, but you keep your focus on the spell.

"You the Winchester brothers by any chance?" Sprinkling the final amount of salt over the fresh human heart, you murmur out the words to complete the spell, and a satisfied smirk spreads your lips as an orangy red wave washes over the room. Assuming that the spell worked, you turn back to face them, but see only hostillity.

"What? You don't like it when people know who you are?"

"That spell needed a fresh human heart." Castiels voice is dark as his eyees sear into yours, and you feel a shiver run down your spine att the intensity of the glares you're receiving. Although the Belphegor guy doesn't seem to care.

"Okay first off, rude. Are you assuming I killed someone? Come on. I'm a hunter, I hunt monsters not people. This was my neighbor. He was killed by the same ghost I was shooting at before you arrived." Wrinkling your nose, you start loading weapons into a duffle bag, throwing in a couple of your most important spellbooks while you're at it. Ignoring the looks on the faces of the men, you saunter towards the stairs, preparing to leave the house.

"You're leaving?" Belphegor speaks first, his voice pleasant to your ears as he follows you a few steps behind. Your eyes lock on to where his eyes should be behind those sunglasses of his, and you shrug.

"You're staying? I need to figure out how to get these things back to hell. Feel free to stay in my basement if you really want to though. No hard feelings if you're too chicken to fight the good fight."

A steady grin widens Belphegor's mouth, and he turns back to the other three men. "I like her. She's already more fun then you are." With that being said, Belphegor heads over to your side, and for a moment, you could swear you saw a bit of back on his skin around the edges of his glasses around his eyes. But then he's walking past you, and the other three men are following. Leaving you to scowl as you're somehow the last one out.

It takes only a few minutes to get to the barrier, having only stopped once after adding a woman and her daughter to the group. As you're a few feet away from the border, having hung back a few steps to make sure no one was left behind, you feel it. The slight drop in temperature makes you tense, and your eyes dart around, one hand shooting out to grab Sam's shoulder, who is walking a few feet ahead of you.

"Sam I think-" You don't manage to finish your sentance, as a pair of hands grab your arms, and rip you away from the more experienced hunter.

"Y/n!" He takes aim with his own shotgun, but as you feel the cold starting to seep into you, you realise what's happening. Eyes wide, you thrash in its grip, managing to beat it back with a punch from your iron, salt infused knuckles.

"Screw you Casper!"

Sam shoots the ghost the second you're in the clear, but your head still feels a bit foggy. Shaking away the sensation, you stumble forwards, and Sam supports your trembling body.

"I'm so happy I'm wearing iron right now." You choke out a laugh, still a bit shaken, and Sam guides you the final few feet to the barrier where the others are waiting.

"So am I." He breathes out his own short laugh, more of a huff if anything, but you take it as relief. Reaching a tree just outside of the school, you take a moment. Leaning against it to gathet your wits about you. In the process of doing so, you realise an important piece of information.

"My bag!" Looking back over to the town, you slump into a crouch, burying your head in your hands. "This day literally cannot get any worse." Narrowing your eyes, you quickly reach behind yourself to knock three times on the bark of the tree behind you. Just in case.

"I think you dropped this back there." The smooth voice of Belphegor, paired with a light thunk of something hitting the ground makes you look up, and you breath out a sigh of relief as you see your duffle bag. Belphegor moves around to sit against the tree beside you, and you lean your head against the rough bark.

"You didn't have to do that. Something could have happened to you." Holding back a worried glare, you peek over at him. But his head is down as he snaps a stick in his hands. Peeling off a patch of thinner bark from the stick, he shrugs and looks back up to you with a lopsided grin.

"Nah I'm fine. S'not like I can be possessed anyways." He reaches up to take off his sunglasses, and you jerk back in horror as you see that his eyes have been burnt out.

"What the hell are you?" Stumbling to your feet, you can only watch as he groans and slides the glasses back on, hiding his charred flesh from you once again, and you shudder as the image replays in your head. Something about eye injuries always make you uneasy.

"Oh I'm a demon. This was just the best looking dead body I could find at the time when I got out of hell."He rises to his feet, stretching out his arms and smirking suggestively.

"Dont'cha think it's cute? Personally, I was a bit taller when I-"

"Belphegor! Quit flirting and get your ass over here damnit, we're supposed to be making a plan." Dean calls out in annoyance from beside a sleek, black chevy impala, and you noticeably relax as Belphegor sighs, trudging over to where the rest of the hunters stand.

The next few days go by suprisingly easily. You yourself, mostly patrol the town. Occasionally with other hunters you haven't learned the names of yet, but mostly with Belphegor and Castiel. After getting over the fact that you're now working with a demon and an angel, you settled in quickly to everything else. You spend most nights now with Belphegor, Asking him about the world when he was human, and teaching him some stuff about the world as it is now.

It's another one of those nights as it seems. Around three (3) AM, and you just got back to your assigned room from your patrol. You're just stripping off your dusty shirt when you hear the door open, and footsteps sound against the wooden floor.

You lay there for the next minute in shock and a bit of arousal as Belphegor gets dressed, and leaves the room with a wink. "See you at breakfast Y/n~"

"Do you ever knock Belphegor?" You throw the dusty shirt towards a corner, and turn to face the demon, who's now leaning against the doorway and letting his eyes trail up and down your body.

"Nah. Not when I get a view like this. I mean wow, you're gorgeous." He smirks, licking his lips with a chuckle, and you feel yourself growing warm.

Narrowing your eyes, you snatch a watergun from a shelf, and spray it at his legs.

"What the hell?! Come on!" He leaps away from the stinging holy water, and you turn back. Satisfaction practically dripping off of you as you pull on an oversized sweater that falls down to mid thigh. Tugging out of your leggings, you throw them over with your shirt in the corner, and slide on a pair of shorts.

You flop down onto your makeshift bed, pulling aside the covers as Belphegor strips of his shirt and jeans, leaving himself in only his boxers as he drops down the pile of blankets a few feet away from yours. Rolling over under your thin blanket to face him, you watch as he pulls up a blanket to cover only up to his navel.

"Do you even need to sleep? Or is it just an instinctual thing?" The question slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and your mouth quickly snaps shut right after that. Not knowing why you asked such a question.

Belphegor looks over to you from where he's laying on his back, and thinks for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah. I guess it kinda just feels right to sleep you know? I don't actually know if I need to sleep because I've never tried not sleeping." He closes his eyes, and leans his head back to face the ceiling. Removing his sunglasses and reaching up to place them on a chair.

You however, are starting to get cold. Most of the people here either had someone else to stay close to for warmth, or was buried under extra blankets in a more crowded room. With only you and Belphegor in the room, you can feel the chill seeping through the blankets on the floor, and settle into you. A shiver wracks your form as you pull the blankets closer, and curl up into a ball. Cloing your own eyes, you manage to slip into sleep after a few minutes, but from there, things only got worse.

Only an hour later, through your nightmare you manage to hear someone calling your name, and you inwardly scream out again. Hoping that someone would wake you up already. You had already tried praing to Castiel, but seeing as you still weren't awake, you assumed he couldn't hear you.

The ghost from a few days ago had managed to do something to you, and now it plagues your nighmares. The first two nights you had thought it was just any regular nightmare, but after waking up with unexplanable bruises, you realised that something wasn't right.

Now you're running again. Trying to escape the ghost of a man as he cackles and follows behind you.

"Belphegor! Castiel! Someone please! Wake me up!" Your throat feels raw, and you eventually just curl into a corner, having no where else to run. Screwing your eyes shut, you wait with shaky breaths as the laughter draws near, and clench your fists.

"-N! Y/N Damnit why won't you wake up!?" Hearing a voice outside your dream, you prepare yourself to yell out to Belphegor again, but before you can, you feel an odd tingling sensation run through your body, stemming from your mouth. Suddenly, Belphegor appears in front of you, eyes scanning your nighmare to find the ghost standing a few feet away with a sharp, bloody knife.

"Stay away." He steps towards the ghost, noticing your form huddled in the corner. "From my girl." He lunges forwards, colliding with a ghost much more solid then he had expected, and he pushes it back. Seeing a fireplace in the room adjacent to the one he's currently in, he punches the ghost square it it's annoyingly solid face, before flashing over to grab an iron poker. But the demon drops it with a hiss, realising that it's salt infused.

"Smart..." He mutters under his breath before grabbing a blanet from the couch, ripping off a piece of fabric and using that to cover his hand as he grabs the poker. Darting back over to you and the ghost, he swings the poker with almost all of his strength, sending the spirit flying back into a wall wailing in pain. Belphegor drops the poker, lunging to your sides and grabbing your hands.

"Y/n! Come on you have to wake up." He moves to cup your face in his hands as you look at him in a daze, and you close your eyes, finally feeling safe. The moment that feeling of safety washes over you, the ghost disappears, and Belphegor feels your body waking up.

The demon exits in seconds, not wanting you to be mad at him for possessing you, and you awaken with a cough as your eyes shoot open, just in time to see the last of the black smoke entering his former vessel. Your through tingles, prompting you to cough a few more times as Belphegor jumps to attention. He's by your side in a heartbeat, opening his mouth to speak, but you shush him, pulling him down onto the blanket and wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection. The demon stiffens. Not quite used to gentle touches. Neverless, he leans back and slides under the covers beside you. He knows he's pressing his luck, but right now he just wants to sure you're alright.

"Thank you." Your voice is muffled as you speak into his bare chest, and Belphegor pulls your blankets back up over the two of you, rolling onto his back and pulling you with his so that you rest on top of him. One of his hands tangles in your hair, the other rubbing circles on your back.

"No problem. I've gotta take care of my partner don't I?" Something in his chest churns at his own words, and he closes his eyes tightly as if to repel the thought. "Go back to sleep. It's still dark out and I'm here now. I'll keep you safe." He relaxes against the blankets on the floor, feeling the comforting weight of you on his chest as you snuggle closer, and he grits his teeth. "That bastard will die by my hands I swear."

The next morning you're awoken by soft breathing and the faint scent of sulfur. The blankets under you are deliciously warm, and you smile as you cuddle closer against them. Only to shriek in suprise when you hear a sleepy mumble of your name as feel two arms around your waist tighten. You stiffen as your eyes snap open, to see bare skin against your cheek, and beel the body under you rise with a shuttering breath.

Lifting your head, your eyes are met with the face of Belphegor, and the events of last night play through your mind.

"Everything okay in there? We hear a scream." Sam's voice from outside the door makes you heave a sigh of relief. Knowing that he won't just barge in, you take a hot minute to assess the situation before replying.

"Yeah sorry. I think a mosquito landed on my neck or something it just suprised me!" Sam leaves the hallway from the other side of the door, and you feel the deep vibrating chuckle rumble from Belphegor's upper stomach to your chest as you realise he's awake. Of course the fact that he doesn't have functional eyes doesn't exactly help with figuring that out.

"Let go of me damnit we need to go." You squirm in his grasp, but he only smirks, pulling you up a little to bury his nose in your hair.

"Just five more minutes. I've finally got you where I want you and I don't want this to end." He mumbles softly against your hair as you feel yourself growing red, and you try to twist around your head to face him.

"Belphegor come on... What are you, human? You're not acting very demon like" Struggling more in his grasp, he growls, the sound making you freeze as he flips the two of you over. Suddenly, with him hovering over you, you don't feel like moving anymore, and as his head draws closer to yours, you find yourself clenching your eyes shut and moving your hands to press against his chest.

"I said. Five more minutes." He lowers himself onto you. Remarkably careful not to hurt you as he settles comfortably between your legs. His chin rests against your shoulder, his softs breathing tickling the skin of your neck and making goosebumps arise.

The demon smirks as he feels you shiver, letting his forearms hold him up as he hovers over you, and he slowly, ever so gently brushes his lips over the exposed skin of your shoulder as your hoodie is pushed to the side by one of his hands.

"Would you rather I act differently? The things I could do to you right here, right now would certainly convince you that I am plenty demon like." His voice is low as he breathes on your shoulder, his head moving slowly so that his lips are just barely brushing against your neck, and a whimper catches in your throat as his lips meet the warm skin of your neck. He doesn't go easy on you when he starts. His mouth bruising against your skin as he lets one hand roam up your side to twine his fingers in your hair and pull your head to the side, giving himself better access to your supple skin.

"I could take you right here, right now babygirl." With each word spoken, he grinds his hips against yours, making you gasp and arch your back as you feel him press against you. "But like you said," Belphegor pulls away from your neck, his lips just almost touching yours as he leans back over you. "We have things to do, and my five minutes are up." With that said, he flashes you a lazy grin, before rolling off of you, and standing up.

Belphegor hums against your skin as you twist your fingers into his hair and give a light tug, his lips leaving a trail of hickies in their wake as he works his way up your neck.

Epilogue

Raindrops streak against the windows as you sit silently in the livingroom. Your eyes are unfocused, the television playing on mute across from the couch as you sit in silence. Jack and Castiel are in your guest rooms, either resting or planning, you're not quite sure yet. Hearing soft footsteps, you assume Jack has come downstairs, and you pull your knees up to your chest as you keep your head turned to the window.

"Hey." Your voice is soft, and you avoid looking over. Knowing that seeing the nephilim would only mack your heart ache even more. You get only a soft hum from him as he sinks into the plush cushion of the couch next to you. Feeling his eyes on you, you finally gance over, keeping your gaze locked on his hands instead of looking at his face as he opens his mouth to speak.

"Castiel said I should ask you to sleep with me tonight." Your breath hitches in your throat as you hear his uncertain voice, and you slowly look up to his face as he continues. "I've been having trouble staying asleep, and he said that you might be able to help with that."

The thought of being so close to Jack makes your heart ache, especially knowing that he won't ever be Belphegor again. You slowly nod your head yes. Praying that it'll get easier.

That night as you lie down on the soft sheets next to Jack, and he pulls the covers over you, you can't help but try to imagine him as Belphagor.

His arms hesitantly circle your waist, and as he pulls you against his chest, you close your eyes, picturing Belphegor's cocky smirk and confident hands. As Jack rests his chin against the top of your head, you find yourself unknowingly relaxing, pretending that he's Belphegor is making this much easier then you had thought. That or you were just more lonely then you had thought.

As you drift into sleep, you hear a quiet 'thank you', and then you're out like a light. The feeling of Jack's arms around you make you slip into a pleasant memory of the first time you and Belphegor had shared the bed.

Something disturbs your sleep halfway through the night. A chill in the air making goosebumps rise on your arms as you scrunch up your face and press closer to Jack for warmth.

"Y/n?"

"S'nothing Jack. M' just cold." Your reply is almost instant, and for a moment you don't even realise that the voice didn't come from behind you. But once it sinks in, your eyes snap open.

There. Right in front of you on your side of the bed, stands Belphegor. His eyes are trained on you, his gaze sharp as his mouth curves up into that oh so familiar grin.

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears as you see the flickering form of Belphegor standing by your bedside. He's still using Jack's body even when dead, and he offers you a soft smile.

"Hey gorgeous."

You find yourself pulling out of Jack's arms, who frowns at the loss of contact and reaches out in his sleep to try and pull you back. Eyes darting between the two, you slide off the bed, and slowly approach Belphegor's fading body.

"How are you here? This doesn't feel like a dream." Reaching out, you brush your fingertips over his cheek, and flinch as you feel him. Solid, but cold.

His hand comes up, his own fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest."I don't know. But I'm not wasting this time." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, and although you know that Jack could wake up at any moment, you find yourself leaning into his touch. Your eyes close as Belphegor's cool fingers glide over your skin, feeling his grip on your wrist loosen as the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile. "Fuck, I missed you babygirl."

Belphegor wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he leans down to connect his mouth with yours. Hands moving by themselves, you quickly find your fingers tangling in his hair as you feel a single tear escape your right eye. His mouth is soft yet demanding on yours, his lips slightly warmer then his fingertips, which are grazing gently over the exposed skin of your waist.

Your mouths part, and he wipes the tear from your cheek. Shaking your head, you press closer to the demon, leaning the side of your face on his chest and wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. "I missed you too. So, so much." His fingers stroke your hair, and he presses his lips to the top of your head.

"I know." His body flickers again before resolidifying, and you hesitantly pull away.

"If this is a dream, I really want to wake up now. I don't-" You pause, reconsidering your words, and looking up to meet his eyes. "- I can't, lose you again." Stiffling a sob, you watch as he frowns, one hand moving back towards your face.

"I didn't want to leave you Y/n. You know that right?" Belphegor cups your cheek in his hand once again, wiping away another tear as it trickles down your cheek, and looking over your shoulder to see Jack still asleep.

He considers his options. If he were to try and leave with you, the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack would definately find you both and kill him. But he could be with you again. He can't repossess Jack, as the boy is alive again and would be able to overpower him, and he doesn't particularly want to find a different vessel. His gaze falls to Jack, who is stil asleep on the bed, and something within him solidifies.

"Are you two..." Belphegor makes a vague gesture, and you quickly shake your head.

"He chases away the nightmares, and I help him fall asleep." You reach forwards once again, connecting your hands with his as you lean your forehead back onto his chest.

"That was supposed to be my job." He reminds you with a grin, and you suddenly wish he had escaped hell sooner to find you.

With a small smile of your own you look up to his eyes, now in death having been restored so that he can properly see. Jack's face stares back down at you, wearing an expression that the nephilim never would. Reaching up, you pull him down to press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow night. Now get back into that bed before the nephilim wakes up and sees me." With that said, Belphegor turns your face to kiss your lips properly, and as he finally fades from view, you get to see his eyes staring back into yours before fluttering shut, to be opened the next night in your dreams.

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

ok this one is really really sad, one where the war in the whole universe is done and loki and reader has to part ways just because loki has to come back to asgard and live 5000 more years and like they're saying their goodbyes while reader is crying so bad she can't say i love you to loki and loki's like "see that shiny thing in the sky? that's asgard, I'll watch you all the time" but then on their last goodbye kiss loki just did a trick and cleared out reader's memories with him??? imsosorry

okayyyy i apologise in advance for this. and for doing this when i have like 20 other requests that came before this one.

i edited the plot a lil for clarification, so it takes place right before The Snap™️ but Loki was on earth with you so no stupid stabby boi. ohhh you wanted elliot in this too??? enjoy heh

also why is your url give-me-fluff when you’re putting ideas like this in my mind you sly dog

if you wanna cry, listen to this song on repeat while you read. trust me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Something is wrong. Extremely, horribly wrong.

It brings Loki from a restless sleep before it hits you, shooting straight up from the pillows in a cold sweat.

Darkness still encompasses the room hiding you from view, so he reaches out to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. His fingers slip under your shirt to spread against your stomach—you’re still breathing.

Relief floods his mind and he moves his hand up to find your heart, needing to feel it beating steadily under his hand before he can fall back to sleep.

It’s there. His heart is ready to pound out of his chest, but yours seems fine, calm and steady and thankfully reminding him that he’s fine, you’re fine, and Elliot is f—

Elliot.

The baby had been cradled in your arms when you fell asleep, only being a few days old, neither of you had wanted to leave him alone. Loki pulls himself from your warmth to flip on the bedside lamp, rousing you from your sleep as well.

“What’s going on?” You mumble, blinking groggily at him over your shoulder. He’s running a hand over his face, traces of slumber evident in his eyes, but his breathing is shallow and shaky. “Loki, babe, what’s wrong?”

“Is Elliot alright?”

He looks terrified, cheeks paler than usual and his eyes are frantic; it’s scaring you.

You nod and roll back over to check on your newborn son, but the little bundle of blankets you had fallen asleep next to is empty. You’re wide awake now, that’s for sure, and you fling the covers off the bed—babies are unpredictable, right? Maybe he slid further under or-or rolled off the bed??

“Loki,” you hiss, jumping off the bed and checking the floor. Nothing. “Loki, where’s our baby?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, ripping the covers off the bed completely. “What do you mean, ‘where’s our baby’?”

Your voice raises with the panic in your heart: Elliot is nowhere to be found. “Loki Laufeyson, this is not a fucking joke. I swear to god, if you are pulling some shit—”

His fist closes around your arm and he gives you a rough shake. “Why in the name of Valhalla would I joke about this?” He hisses, eyes flashing in anger. Anger.

It’s been ages since you’ve seen anger in his eyes, especially when he’s looking at you. But his grip on your arm is unyielding and only getting tighter, his fingers digging into your bicep until you meet his piercing gaze with fear-filled eyes.

He freezes at the look on your face, how you’re staring up at him as if he were straight out of a nightmare, and immediately the grip on your arms loosens. “Forgive me…” he whispers in horror, bringing a hand to the back of your head and pulling you flush against his chest. “Forgive me, my love, forgive me.”

You quickly wrap your arms around him in quiet comfort, reassuring him that you’ve already done so. “I’m sorry too. We’re both scared,” you explain, rubbing a soothing hand over his back. “We need to find Elliot.”

He nods and slowly lets you go, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and something on the bed catches his eye. The blankets the Elliot had been wrapped in are still piled on the mattress and he quickly picks them up, unfolding them and shaking them lightly.

There’s ashes? Some kind of dust, scarily similar to ashes, falling from the blankets, and you run a hand through the dark ashes, leaving black smears and stains on your white sheets.

“No, this couldn’t be…” your mind is running a thousand miles an hour, too many possible scenarios ricocheting around your head. Only one sticks out, keeps popping up to taunt you no matter how hard you push it away. “Loki, this isn’t…?”

Loki looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“He did it,” is all he breathes, setting a trembling hand on the bed and picking up a fistful of the ashes, turning his fist over to let the ashes pour through his fingers.

You can hear your heartbeat pounding and you try again: “Loki, answer me. Is this our son??”

His wide eyes meet yours, all colour drained from his face and the light in his emerald eyes promptly extinguished. You want him to just answer you, to tell you no, that’s not your son, that Elliot is in the room down the hall safe and sleeping soundly…but he just nods.

It doesn’t make any sense. But Loki grabs your hand, smearing the ashes—your son’s ashes—over your palm as well and he puts his other hand to your face, holding your cheek and he’s staring at you, absolutely terrified.

Waiting for you to turn to ashes with his son.

He should have known you were too good to be true.

To be his.

There are tears in Loki’s eyes, actual tears sneaking from the corners of his eyes as he watches you, waiting for you to be ripped from his hands.

The tears come to you before you have a chance to fully process what just happened.

There’s a flash of light from the window—the bifrost, you realise—and your door slams open. It’s Thor, who hasn’t been to visit you in months since he’d been on Asgard.

“Asgard has fallen.” Panic hides in his rumbling voice, but you can hear it loud and clear.

Loki is dressed in the blink of an eye, armour glinting from his chest. “To what end?” He asks, stepping slightly in front of you, quickly wiping the tears from his cheeks. His voice is steady, strong…fake. That’s not your husband.

“Half our people,” Thor hoarsely tells him. “Half our people are gone.”

Loki swallows thickly with a nod and you notice his hand shaking against his thigh. You step behind him and grab his hand, twining your fingers between his and squeezing tightly.

I’m here.

“Are there…are there ashes?” He croaks, pointing to your bed littered with the ashen remains of your son. Just hearing him brings another lump to your throat and you let your head fall against his back, holding onto his hand with a death grip and hiding the tears trickling down your cheeks.

Thor nods, his face ghostly pale. “I apologise to the both of you. This…this takes no prejudice in its victims. Brother, I trust you will do what is necessary.”

Loki finally squeezes your hand back, tighter than you can almost bear. “Leave us.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s pulled you back into his arms and he’s shaking, his face buried in your neck. Shaking with sobs, fear, rage, you don’t know, but this, whatever this is, has done something to him and he’s finally broken.

Right when you were starting to piece him back together.

“Loki—”

“Don’t speak.”

Your mouth snaps shut, shocked and confused at his command. It’s not like this isn’t affecting you too, Elliot was as much your son as his! You open your mouth to argue, eyes narrowing at your husband—mmph.

His lips are on yours before a single angered word leaves them.

Wet. It’s a wet kiss, in the worst way possible. It’s all tears and tongue and he’s desperate, clawing at your face and your back and staining your cheeks with his burning tears. By the time he rips himself away from you, your skin is streaked with black marks from the ashen remains on his hands.

“I have to leave,” he whispers against your lips, eyes tightly shut and chest heaving. “I have to leave and you cannot follow me.”

“Bullshit,” you answer firmly, grabbing his face and wiping away a tear with your thumb. “I’m coming with you.”

He shakes his head furiously, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and pulling you even closer to him. “You are not. You’re safer here. I won’t be able to care for you in the way you deserve.”

“You think I care about that?” You smack at his arm, undeniably getting angry with him; he’s not allowed to make these kinds of decisions for you. “That was my son too, Loki. My son. Your son…our son.”

Your words hit him like a brick and he lets go of your shirt, hand coming up to caress your cheek. “That’s why you can’t come, my love,” he mutters. “I’ve caused you enough pain already. I will not bring you any more.”

“That is so selfish,” you hiss, wrenching your head from his touch. “Selfish, Loki, selfish. Clearly the better way to ‘care for me’ is to stay with me, right?”

Not that you could’ve ever known, but those words would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure of how to answer such an accusation. “I…you know I love you,” he says, practically pleading with you. “I’m trying to protect you! Don’t make this harder than it has to be—”

“Take me with you, Loki!” You cradle his head in both hands and force him to look at your teary eyes. “Just take me with you, idiot, take me with you.”

He can’t. There’s no way. It would never work, with Asgard now compromised and destroyed, leaderless and on the run. He knows you wouldn’t be able to survive a single unavoidable battle, and he wouldn’t be able to be there to protect you.

“I can’t. I love you, and because of that, I can’t stay with you.” He pries your hands from his face to hold them tightly in his own, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You can hate me, blame me, wish I were dead. I don’t care. I refuse to put you through more pain than I’ve already caused.”

You back away from him, gaping and shaking your head in disbelief. He’s actually going to leave you. You want to hate him, to scream and yell at him until he wakes up and realises you can stay with him, but you don’t think there’s a bone left in your body with the strength to be upset with him.

“I can’t lose you too,” you say, your voice nothing more than a strangled whisper. “First Elliot. Not you too.”

He reaches for you and when you add a whispered “please,” his heart twists and breaks.

There’s only one way to rid you of this painful reality he’s created with you, but Loki wonders if he even has the strength to do it.

It would ruin him, the rest of his life, his spirits, and any hope for peace within him. But it would save you from a lifetime of pain, guilt, hatred…he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t do it.

If he’s ‘selfish’ in your eyes, the least he can do is let you go.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he stands there, silent, out of words to say to you, his silver tongue finally stopped. Doesn’t he have anything to say to you? Any consolations, any comfort?

No, he’s just silent.

Then he puts a hand out, palm open in offering to you and you immediately place your hand in his. His skin is burning ice to the touch, biting through your fingertips, but you don’t let go, trying to let your warmth seep into his skin.

He curls his fingers around yours, his other hand coming to rest on the small of your back and gently leading you to the one window in your tiny apartment. Pulling aside the curtains, he leans down to press a breath of a kiss on your shoulder.

“You can hate me,” he murmurs, his voice steady. He has no more tears to shed. “You can curse my name. But I will not hurt you.”

“Loki, that’s not—”

He cuts you off by tipping your head up and kissing you again, molding his lips into yours. When he pulls away he stays there for a moment, just letting your breath caress his empty lips and running his thumb along your jaw.

“I will not hurt you,” he repeats, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you…do you see that star, my love? The one with four points, two to the left of the moon.”

He nods in the direction of the night sky, and you reluctantly follow his gaze to the left of the moon. Sure enough, a four pointed star blinks faintly down at you.

His arm wraps across your chest, running his thumb over your shoulder. “Let’s say that is Asgard. I will always be able to see you from up there, and any time you wish to see me, just look to the sky.” He presses his lips up the side of your neck, relishing the fading feel of your skin. “You see? I’m not leaving you, my love. Never.”

You know it’s a lost cause. He’s leaving and you’ve given up trying to convince him otherwise, so you just stand there silently in his embrace, letting him run his lips along the curve of your neck, knowing this may be the last time you ever feel his lips on you.

There’s nothing left for you here. It, whatever it is, took your son before he could even see the world you brought him into, and now it is ripping his father—your husband—from you too.

He lingers in your empty silence a moment longer before turning you to face him, cradling your head in both hands and brushing away your tears. “No more tears, my queen.”

He leans forwards, his eyes drifting shut and you know this will be the last kiss. You don’t know how you know, but something about it just seems so…final.

“I love you,” you blurt out, finally finding your voice. “I could never hate you.”

He rests his forehead against yours and smiles, a sad, heartbreaking baring of his soul, and he nods. “I know,” he softly assures you, then closes the tiny gap between your lips.

And for the first time, his kiss is warm. Not burning with passion, not the biting cold of a possessive lover, but warm.

He’s not speaking, but you can hear his voice clear as day echoing through your mind.

And I could never forget you.

The warmth of his kiss wraps your body in a saving embrace, filling you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head until his lips are barely touching yours.

The warmth is fading from his ghosting lips. Fading away, and you reach out to grab his arm, keep him here…

You’re standing in front of the window.

Why on earth are you up at such an early hour? You’ve got work in the morning. You should’ve been in bed hours ago.

With a tired sigh you trudge back to your bed, your bed that is much too big for just the one of you. Oh well, more space to sprawl, right? You pull the covers back onto the mattress—you must have kicked them off in your sleep—but there’s a dark streak of something on your white sheets.

Huh. You try to brush it off with your hand, but the powdery mark has stained and just rubs off on your hand. It’s weird, it’s almost like…ashes.

Oh well. You’ll wash the sheets tomorrow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @sciluvcatz @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

Text

@its-whitetomorrow

I appreciate that you take the time out of your day to read my witterings, and respond to them in detail, but I'm somewhat intellectually limited and it takes a while to write an answer.

The final one is a bit of a problem. The original post is long, your bit is long, and my addition is probably twice both put together.

Did you know Tumblr has a limit: no more than two hundred and fifty text blocks per post? I discovered this from experience, unsurprisingly.

I think the only solution is to split it across several posts.

I wasn't going to say anything, but I suppose I should.

I started this blog last May, to relieve the boredom of my main embarrassment, whose only likes (all three of them) were from porn bots.

It wasn't even meant to be about Pokémon. I'd left the fandom years previously. It was odds and ends, but I happened to find a few silly screen shots so wrote a couple of joke remarks, not expecting a ripple of interest.

Within a couple of hours I got more notes than t'other's managed even to this day. I had the idea this was where I was more at home, so I started taking it seriously.

My pseudonym was just daft thing I'd made up previously, to reflect that, whilst still in love with old days, I'm not exactly pleased with how it's gone.

I thought it might stand out as memorable, plus I like acronyms, so it affords me the opportunity to call myself 'T.A.P.'

In the early days the focus was on the 'maniac' aspect. Anger as a description didn't fit at all. The farther back you go, the more stupid and clownish it gets. It's not been like this all the way through!

Seriously, it used to be an entertainment blog, designed to make people laugh. It's all ages: no swearing, no porn, nothing to put anyone off.

(This post under discussion contains the only profanity I've ever deployed. I thought saving it up might add some oomph.)

I mean it, it's was all light-hearted ridicule. Every so often, there would be a slightly cutting remark, but mild compared to now.

Then, last September, someone I spoke to regularly, who assured me we were friends, suddenly cut off all contact.

At first I wasn't aware of it, but by October it became too glaring a silence to ignore.

I thought rifts started because of massive disagreements, but as far as I remembered our last exchange ended normally.

I found out by accident that the reason for it was because I am repugnant and morally inferior and so swollen with my own ego that the existence of others doesn't register. Instead they are but soulless droids built to worship the great T.A.P. mollusc.

Well that was news to me. I had no idea I came across like that. As far as I knew, I was on my best behaviour when we interacted.

I was polite. I tried to be ingratiate myself. I kept talk to the fandom. I didn't pry. I attempted humour when the opportunity arose.

I thought I'd done all I could to be liked, but apparently I hadn't. It was a revolting experience for them, for all of saying they loved me and I was 'honey'.

It really, really, really got to me, and the feeling hasn't abated, if anything it's worse.

As I said, I don't know what I did wrong, and because I don't, I can't mend my ways. If I am this repellant waste of flesh I'd like to change, but if I'm not told my offence, what am I meant to do?

If what I thought was the best I could be wasn't good enough, and instead was so sickening I don't deserve their presence, then I have no idea how to interact with people.

Maybe every time I respond to someone, thinking I'm at worst, civil, is really grotesque conceit, because my arrogance is so extreme I'm not even aware it's there. In my head it sounds normal.

It'd be too easy to scoff that they were the one with the problem, but, given all the arguments that happen in life, it can't always be someone else's fault. It's got to be you at least once.

They obviously think they were justified, so who's to say they weren't?

You may say not to let it worry me, that I should just get over it, and you'd be totally right. Being bothered makes me feel pathetic and petty on top of the rest, but this is me you're talking to, not a sane person. Self-hatred is more instinctive to me than breathing.

I always dwell on the negative. If one hundred people were assembled, ninety-nine of whom declared me the most wonderful being ever to live, and one remarked I wasn't all that special, it's him I'd remember.

It's called ghosting because that's what happens. There comes a moment when you accept that, no, it's over, rejected again, and it's like realising I'd died, and had been gone for a while.

Except I hadn't noticed the process, so I was always dead in a way, and they spoke to the silvery silhouette left behind, until that too dispersed into untraceable nothingness. Again, the silence is my fault for dying, not theirs.

I feel there's no point in messaging anyone, because I'll only disgust them too. Some blogs encourage contact, and when I see it I always think:

Yeah, but they don't mean YOU.

If it's another person I already spoke to, I can't shut up. I bombard them with text in the hope they know I don't think they're a menial droid. Every one I immediately regret, and wish I could take back, because that will irritate them until I'm just a sad, nagging past.

The Ghost-Maker used to reblog 99% of my work. This dropped to nothing overnight, so not only am I worthless, but so is everything I do.

Posts G.M. didn't like got 0-5 notes. Ones they did had 20+. Many a time, it took their reblog for anyone else to notice.

It was like others used that blog as a filter to pull the fool's gold from the murk of this one. Once their favour evaporated, so did a lot of the goodwill from elsewhere, so it's was as if Tumblr agreed I was scum.

Saying that above just shows they were right, because it takes one smug bastard to believe their existence registers with anyone else.

Please don't think I'm demanding likes, that my stuff deserves them, although as I'm arrogant I am. It's just that 99% to 0% is a bit of a fall.

Up til then, I held back much of what I thought about the current state of the anime, as they liked it, but now I have no reason to stop.

If I'm to be accused of all these vices I might as well have them. I'm dead, so who cares what I say? No one listens to a ghost.

It's not that I'm unconcerned if I upset anyone, it's just the truth that I don't matter enough for what I write to be valued enough to offend.

As a ghost, I think of this blog as invisible. It's there, but not really, so how can anyone mind?

Incidentally, the first week I was here I got blocked by someone who hates all fans from the Nineties. I don't care about that, as they sound like a cretin, and I'd have to be defective to gain their approval.

I just want to say I find that moronic. I don't hate new fans at all. I wouldn't block someone because we disagreed.

Blocking denies people access to your blog, stating they don't deserve your ART. That's arrogant to me.

Blocker likes Ghost-Maker, but...

Ever since around October, I've progressively become angrier and angrier. Whenever I'm here or Pokémon enters my head, it just reminds that I'm pond slime, about the most crude, malformed half-life freak you can envision.

I don't like being here anymore. I keep intending to leave, the site and the fandom, and set fire to it all before I go, wipe away the slug trail to spare people's stomachs.

I kept quiet until now, but holding it in just made it more intense. If I may describe myself in ridiculously flattering terms, I feel like a shaken champagne bottle, but the cork is welded in, so the only option is for the glass to shatter.

If anyone's reading this, wondering where the fun went, well this is why I flipped. The red mist won't clear. I can't see beyond it.

I won't name Ghost-Maker, because I don't want to start anything, plus most will take their side. They may see this as they still rifle round these parts occasionally for posts that aren't mine.

Well done, Ghostie. You're the lucky one. We'll never meet and you haven't seen me. Pity the poor sods I've encountered. There must be vomit trails across the land provoked by my vile condition. I wasn't aware of this until you let me in on the secret.

There's an English television presenter called Caroline Flack. She killed herself yesterday and everyone loved her. I feel guilty that I'm alive and she's not.

#Pokémon #Tumblr

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marinsawakening · 5 years

Note

Fake dating? Then they realise they're way better as a qpr, and switch to that?

This is 2000+ words and got way out of hand, hence why it took so long. Also, I changed the prompt slightly to an already established qpr (not that that comes up until the last possible second), and there’s only one explicitly arospec character, but for the record, Ed is totally nebularomantic in this. Warnings are minimal, except for extensive swearing and some sexual references. Lastly: No editing we die like men.

Summary: AU where Ed, Winry, Al, and Paninay are master thiefs planning a heist for various large diamonds, and in order to succeed, Ed and Winry go undercover as a married couple.

This wasn’t going as planned. Or, more accurately: this was going exactly as planned, and he absolutely hated it.

As predicted, the crusty old nobles had bought the charade hook, line, and sinker, and now all that was left to do was scout the territory, grab the jewels, and vanish into the night. Problem was, neither Al nor Paninya had given the signal yet, and so he was stuck actually pretending to date Winry, exactly as they had planned.

“Your wife is lovely, Mr. Rockbell-Elric,” purred the old fuck they were planning to rob next to him, and Ed drained his wine in one swig. Winry was entertaining some socialites further up the buffet table, but she threw him a pointed glare. Keep off the wine, it warned, you have a job to do.

In response, Ed rolled his eyes.

“I see she’s not a fan of drink, though,” Old Fuck said, bemused. “Mine isn’t either. After we got married, she put me on a strict no-alcohol policy, as if I’m some child that can’t handle my liquor!”

“Must be tough,” Ed managed to spit out from behind gritted teeth. Thankfully, Old Fuck was too self-absorbed to notice a thing.

“Truly! Women, I swear, always nagging, and nagging, and nagging, as if we cannot think for ourselves! I wish my wife would shut up and think about me for once. But, well, I suppose it could be worse; after all, she does have a nice pair of -”

“Lord D’Argent!” Winry interrupted right before Ed would have been forced to smash the Fuck’s head in, with a smile that dialed up the ass-kissing to eleven. “May I express my gratitude for being invited to your party? Winry Rockbell-Elric, at your service. I see you’ve met my husband?”

“Oh yes!” Old Fuck - D’Argent, and yes he had actually known that, he just didn’t particularly care - swung an arm over Ed’s shoulder, and it took every ounce of self restraint he had not to slice if off right then and there, but he managed, and even conjured up a smile. “Lovely man, excellent taste in wine. You’ve got yourself quite a catch, Ms. Rockbell-Elric.”

“Please, call me Winry.” She held out a gloved hand for D’Argent to kiss, who eagerly complied. “After all, we’re all friends here, are we not?”

“Quite! I’ll be terribly sorry to see you go tonight.”

Us and your priced jewels, Ed thought, and the smile on his face became slightly more real.

“About that,” Winry began, voice smooth as a dagger. “I’m afraid I must ask you for a favor. See, I have been informed by one of your staff that, unfortunately, some saboteur seems to have slashed the tires of my automobile, and as I am not currently in the possession of a replacement, I will need to stay here until the garage can send men to help us repair it.”

And, just like that, Ed’s smile slipped off his face.

“I’m sorry?” Ed exclaimed. “Our car has been sabotaged?”

It was bullshit, obviously. There was no saboteur in the world who could out-sabotage Winry, and they definitely had some replacement tires hiding around the car. The car being supposedly so damaged that they’d need to wait for professional non-Winry help could only mean one thing: Al and Paninya had encountered more difficulties than expected, and now they were moving on to plan B.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Winry replied, honey dripping off her smile.

Ed fucking hated plan B even more than he hated plan A.

“That’s terrible!” Lord D’Argent said indignantly, wiggling his overly large mustache. “I cannot believe some scoundrel would have the nerve to do this on my grounds! You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. and Ms. Rockbell-Elric, and of course I welcome you to stay at my home for as long as you need.”

“Much obliged, Lord D’Argent.” Winry made a quick courtesy, and, after a beat too long, Ed followed her example and bowed. “Much obliged,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “You have our thanks.”

“Nonsense! It’s the least I could do for such lovely newly weds.”

On moments like these, Ed really wished there was a God above, just so he could have someone to strangle.

///

“What the fuck?” he hissed, as soon as they’d been left in their assigned rooms. Winry was unimpressed.

“The safe was tougher than we’d anticipated, and Paninya can’t crack it. Al slashed the tires and hid the replacements so that we’d have an excuse to stay longer. I’m going to join them at the safe tonight, so that me and Paninya can hopefully break through together.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then the brakes of our car and those of the D’Argents will ‘mysteriously’ be cut, making it impossible for us to move out just yet.”

“Fuck.” Ed fell back on the bed, burying his head in his arms. “Fuck. I’d agreed to one night of fake marriage, one night.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you can last for a day or so more.”

“Our backstory can’t!”

“Then we’ll just need to work on it more.” Winry gently sat on the other side of the bed, her face softening slightly as she looked at him. “Look, Ed, neither of us likes this very much, but we need to get those jewels. You know that.”

Ed didn’t answer, and finally, Winry just sighed.

“Fine, be like that. But we’ll still need to work on our cover.”

“We married last spring, you’re pregnant, we’re naming the baby Fuck You.”

“Maybe something a little less crude, but I like the pregnancy bit.”

“I don’t.”

“Tough. I vote we name the baby Urey if it’s a guy or Sarah if it’s a girl.”

“Really? Naming them after your dead parents?”

“It’s just the kind of drama the D’Argents will eat up.”

“And what if the kid is actually nonbinary, hm?”

“Ed, we all know that in high society, trans people don’t exist.”

“Are we having a gender reveal party too?”

“Obviously.”

That actually managed to get a laugh from Ed, who promptly tried to smother it. Winry smiled down at him, her whole being radiating smugness. “See? It won’t be that bad.”

“Okay, fine.” Ed tried to hide his grin as he sat up proper. “Let’s fuck with some rich people.”

///

After Ed had accepted his cruel fate, it was actually not as bad as he’d feared.

“We’re planning to name the child Urey or Sarah, after Winry’s parents,” he said, a small but proud (and very fake) smile on his face, and he glanced at Winry from the corner of his eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes in a way that was almost cartoonish, but she pecked him on the cheek and the D’Argents practically melted in front of his eyes.

“That’s so terribly sweet,” Lady D’Argent cooed, leaning forward with a hungry look in her face. “What made you settle on them? Me and my husband have been arguing for ages about baby names, and yet, we haven’t been able to reach any consensus.”

They probably thought that they were being subtle, but if looks could kill, the D’Argent couple would have committed murder several times over during this dinner. Not for the first time, Ed wished he could break cover to yell ‘Get a divorce!’. Sadly, he had to settle for: “She suggested it, and it was so absolutely perfect, I didn’t see a reason to argue. We don’t argue all that much, honestly!”

It was a blatant, horrid lie, and Winry quickly turned her laugh into a cough. “It’s true,” she added. “It’s as if we were made for each other.”

“When did you first fall in love?” Lady D’Argent said, pointedly not looking at Lord D’Argent.

“We’ve simply never not known,” Winry answered, hanging just a little closer to Ed to emphasize the point.

“Yes,” Ed added. “She’s always felt very different than all the other friends I had. Totally. Very distinct.”

“Oh, I completely understand what you mean,” Lady D’Argent said, and she grabbed Lord D’Argent’s hand, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. “When I first saw my dear Micheal, I immediately knew he was the one.”

“Love at first sight, yes, very romantic.”

“Ed, honey, haven’t you had enough wine for the day?”

“Why, Winry, my darling, don’t you want a glass as well?”

“Oh, I’d rather drink something else, if we may excuse ourselves to the bedroom?”

“Oh, yes, of course, we wouldn’t want to keep you,” Lady D’Argent replied, slightly green, although whether it was with disgust or envy, Ed couldn’t say.

“Thank you very much, my lady.” Winry inclined her head and, leaning on Ed a little heavier than necessary, with Ed’s arm wrapped around her a little tighter than normal, they left the banquet.

Back in the safety of their rooms, Ed burst out laughing.

“ ‘I’d rather drink something else’? Holy shit, Winry.”

“Got the job done, didn’t it?” She grinned smugly at him, before quickly switching demeanor to serious. “Alright, we need to get started.”

“Right.”

Quickly, they got to work. Ed opened the bag, pulling out a length of rope he handed to Winry, who had opened up the window and proceeded to tie the rope securely around the window sill, ready to be climbed on. They were on the ground without a sound, ran across the courtyard like shadows, and ducked into the western wing like ghosts, making their way to the safe perfectly unseen. Al and Paninya were waiting for them, just as planned.

“You lovebirds getting busy?” Paninya asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Apparently, Winry’s thirsty tonight,” Ed replied in deadpan.

“And Ed’s too drunk to stop me from ravaging him,” Winry agreed, also in complete seriousness.

“Guys, can we please make jokes about Ed and Winry fucking after we’ve stolen the priceless treasure?” Al said, desperately.

“Al, don’t you know that love is the greatest treasure of all?” Paninya placed a hand over her heart. “I cannot believe I’m in cahoots with such a heartless monster.”

“Next time, I’m vetoing the marriage cover. For my sanity. I do not want to think about my brother having sex ever again.”

“How about we just swap you and Ed, then? You get to fake date your childhood friend!”

Al stared at her, completely unimpressed. “Right,” he said. “Because of course, sending in the aromantic to pretend to be in love will go way better than last time.”

Last time, there had been an on-fire clown.

“Fair enough,” Paninya rescinded. “And anyway, you’re right. We’ve got work to do.”

“Finally!” Winry exclaimed, putting on the safety goggles with a gigantic grin on her face. “Stand back. This’ll get hot.”

Dutifully, Ed stood back, and watched the show.

///

The diamonds in the safe were as big as his fist, and well worth the stupid charade. They even managed to get out of the mansion without too much of a fight.

“I can’t believe you bust your arm up again,” Winry muttered, looking at the mess of wires hanging out of his elbow. “They only shot five times!”

“You were in the line of fire for that fifth shot! Be glad I saved your life!”

“I’ll be glad when you stop giving me more work!”

“Lovebirds, could you tone it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

“We’re not in love!” came Ed and Winry’s chorus. Paninya just snorted.

“Right. Shut up either way, please.”

///

Truth was, Ed didn’t hate romance covers on principle. They could be fun, if he was allowed to turn them up to eleven just to fuck with people; if he was allowed to exaggerate, they could be quite a bit of fun to act.

Mostly, he hated the doubt that came after.

In their little shack, Al and Paninya took the two beds to sleep, while Ed and Winry took the first watch. They were in the middle of nowhere, forest stretching out endlessly across all sides, the starts shining bright in an onyx sea.

“Winry?”

“Hm?”

“So, in the hypothetical scenario that we’d ever get kids, what’d we name them?”

“Nothing to do with our dead parents. That’s just creepy.”

“It’s -” Ed hesitated for a second, shifting awkwardly. “I’m serious.”

Winry stared at him for a second, and he looked away. “You actually want to get kids?”

“I mean, I don’t know? I probably wouldn’t be parent of the year, with one deadbeat dad and one normally dead mother, but you know, I think I’d kind of like to try?” He knew that he was rambling at this point, but didn’t stop. “And I mean, is it even possible? I mean, what we’ve got is already weird, but I definitely don’t want it to be romantic, but I don’t know if you can get kids together without it being romantic?”

“Ed,” Winry cut him off. “When have we ever followed the rules?”

Looking at Winry, whose eyes twinkled like diamonds in the moonlight, he slowly grinned.

#my writing #fma #edward elric #winry rockbell #my posts #aro stuff #this one is also known as 'count how many times i used italics'#ugh i'm so tired so sorry if this is sub par quality #alphonse elric #paninya #as minor characters #Anonymous

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ddaddsprompts · 7 years

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Your writing gives me so much life. (Especially the chronic pain one! I personally struggle with CMP) They're so great I'm love- ah, when you have the time, how would the dads react to dadsona being a mortician/undertaker? Thank you!

I’m glad you like my little stories so much! That means a lot to me. I myself suffer from Fibromyalgia, so the chronic pain one was dear to my heart.

The prompt fill doesn’t contain any disturbing scenes, but, naturally, there is talk about dead people. The Robert one mentions an instrument I would strongly advise you not to google unless you’re not bothered by stuff like that. So, now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy!

🥃 Telling Robert about yourwork was pretty easy. Thing is, he didn’t believe you. The second time, he didn’tbelieve you either. The third, he congratulated you on your dedication to yourstory and toasted (with non-alcoholic beer) to your funeral home, in a tone ofvoice that made clear he didn’t believe you one bit. So, you decided to showhim. “What, did you pay the workers to act like you’re a co-worker?” You shootRobert an unimpressed look and park in front of the funeral home. “Do youreally think I’d pay that much money for something like that?” He raises hiseyebrow at you. Okay, yes, you probably would. You stick out your tongue andlead him inside. “Now, don’t let anyone know I’m doing this, but I don’t thinkanything else would convince you. You can watch me embalm a body.” For thefirst time since you told him about your job, Robert looks unsure. But he nodsand obediently puts on the gloves and other protective gear you hand him over,and follows you into the room. At the first sight of the dead body, he freezes.“Are there hidden cameras?” You snort and take out your tools. The moment you take out the needle injector and get ready to use it, Robert says“Nope” and leaves the room. You put aside your tools and follow him, a bitworried he would get sick or worse. He’s in the corridor, leaning against thewall and looking a bit green, but he seems to be fine otherwise. He looks up asyou approach and groans. “Okay, I believe you. Jesus Christ, kid, what thefuck.” You take off your gloves and pat his shoulder.

🍸 You stand back as you watch Joseph lead thefinal prayer that would bring the wake to an end. At first, you were surprisedto see him, but now you’re just giddy to approach him afterwards and see hisreaction. So far, all conversation between him and your funeral home had gonethrough one of your staff – he doesn’t know what you do for a living and peoplealways react differently, so you are curious to see. Once the family members ofthe deceased all had left, you push off the wall and walk up towards thecasket, where Joseph is packing up his things. You clear your throat and takesmall delight in his startled jump. He turns. “Crackers, Y/N! Don’t scare melike that. What are you doing here?” You grin and spread your arms. “What, canI not be in my own funeral home?” Joseph does a visible double take. His facegoes through a number of emotions – confusion, wonder, realisation – before settlingon surprise. “I didn’t know you were a funeral director.”“It never came up. I tend to avoid talking about it, most people freak out. Imean, sure, I admit it’s kind of creepy to prepare and deal with corpses on adaily basis, but not that much,” you say with a shrug. Joseph nods and adjusts histab collar. He looks very dashing all in black. “I don’t think it’s weird atall,” he assures you. “I think it is great people are willing to perform thoseservices. Speaking of—“ He wraps an arm around your waist and gestures towardsyour office. “There are some things I want to go through again regarding thefuneral.”

☕ “You know,” Mat says after handing you yourdrink. You’re in the Coffee Spoon; Pablo is manning the till and it is slow, soMat joins you at your table and sits down. “You never told me what you do for aliving.” You hum against your cup and set it down after inhaling the sweet,sweet scent of caffeine. Having a boyfriend who owned a coffee shop is thegreatest thing in the world, next to Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road GhostTruckers. It means free drinks and more banana bread than a single personshould have. “Please don’t freak out,” you say. Immediately, Mat looks worried.You reach across the table and put a hand on his. “It’s nothing bad or illegal.Most people just freak out when I tell them.” You can practically see the cogsand wheels start turning in his head. He always furrows his eyebrows and frownswhen he’s thinking hard, it’s cute. “Are you a plumber?” You snort into yourcoffee and shake your head. “No.” He hums. “Crime scene cleaner?” Again, youshake your head. Mat looks at you, probably trying to picture you in a varietyof weird professions. You decide to take pity on him. “I’m a mortician. I own afuneral home the next town over.” Mat’s eyes widen and his lips form an ‘oh’.For a few moments, he doesn’t say anything. When he does, it’s clear he’ssearching for words. “That’s…” You tap his knuckles and chuckle. “You can saycreepy.” He blushes at being caught out. He turns over his hand so he can takeyours in his and lace your fingers. “It’s pretty creepy, baby.”

🌹 You don’t know why you never told Damien aboutyour job. After your visit to the graveyard where he told you of his views ondeath, you should have stopped worrying about his reaction once he found out,but old habits die hard and so, it’s by accident that he finds out. You weresitting together in his garden, enjoying the sunset, when your phone rang. Someonedied and their body needed to be picked up and taken to the funeral home. Afteryou hang up, you turn to him and try to think of an excuse that doesn’t involvethe phrase ‘dead person’, but it’s late and the words flow off your tongue. “Dames,I haven’t told you about my line of work yet and there’s a reason. Most peopleget freaked out and I was afraid you’d also react like that. But I just got acall and I have to go. I’m a mortician and own a funeral home. Someone died andI need to pick up the body.” Damien is silent, looking at you with the samecalm expression that he has most of the time. It helps you calm down. He’sstill leaned against you, he doesn’t seem grossed out at all. No, there’s aglimmer in his eyes… “Can I come with you?” Your mouth falls open. That’s areaction you didn’t expect, at all. “I won’t get in the way or touch anything Ishouldn’t touch, but I find it fascinating and would like to be witness to yourwork. I wish you had told me sooner about your profession, darling, but I dounderstand.” You stutter out a “Sure, come along” and get on your feet. Hekeeps on surprising you, even after all this time.

🎣 The topic of your profession comes up after thefirst time you visited Brian at work and got introduced to his co-workers. You’rein his kitchen, cooking his latest catch, when he speaks up. “In case youcouldn’t tell, the people at work really like you.”“Normally, I hate meeting new people, but with them it kind of felt like Ialready knew them. Probably because you told me so much about them beforehand.”Brian chuckles. “I also told them a lot about you.” You playfully grumble aboutbragging boyfriends who like to show off with their partners. After a pause,you say “Though I also tell my staff a lot about you, so I guess we’re even”and laugh. Brian grins. “So when I visit you at work, they’ll greet me like anold acquaintance?” You fall silent for a moment and turn down the stove beforeturning to face him. “Yeah, about that…” Your tone makes him frown. He reachesout to wrap an arm around you and searches your face for a reason why your moodchanged so quickly. “You might not want to come visit my work once you hearwhat I do. I’m a funeral director.” Brian’s eyes go wide and he pales visibly.He swallows hard and rubs the back of his head with his free hand, laughingnervously. “Oh. So you… I… that’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?” You shrug; itstopped being weird decades ago. “I still want to see your workplace. Just… nodead bodies anywhere near me, okay?” You let out a breath you hadn’t evenrealised you were holding and lean up to kiss his chin. “I promise. No deadpeople.”

👟 ‘Hey bro, I have to postpone our workout sessionlater today. Just got a call from work. I’ll drop by yours as soon as I’m done.’Craig’s reply comes after a few minutes, more hearts – he stopped writing outemoji some time ago and started actually using them right – than words butreassurances that he didn’t mind none the less. At half past seven you walkover to his house. You don’t get to knock – he’s opening the door before youeven raised your hand and pulls you close against his chest. You smile and wrapyour arms and legs around him as he lifts you and carries you over to thecouch. “Bro, your text got me thinking.” You hum and gesture for him tocontinue while getting comfortable, nuzzling into your very buff and still verynice-to-cuddle boyfriend. “I have no idea what you do for a living.”“You went to college with me, Craig. You were there when I graduated.” Hegently elbows your side. “That doesn’t mean you actually ended up working inthat field! Or maybe you switched professions somewhere down the line. There’sno way I’m just going to presume, bro. So, did it work out?” You kiss his cheekand nod. “I actually own my own funeral home now.” Craig grins down at you. “That’sgreat, bro. I’m happy you got to do something with your degree.”“Unlike you, Mister ‘let’s study whatever sounds the easiest’?” Craig purposelybrushes his finger over that very sensitive spot that never fails to make yousquirm. “Shut up.” You narrow your eyes at him in a challenging glare. “Makeme.”

📖 “So, earlier today Ernest told me somethinginteresting. He claims to have seen you drive a hearse. I’m not sure whether hewas lying or telling the truth, you never know with him, but I thought I’dbreach the topic with you anyway, in case he takes his joke any further. If it’sa joke.” Hugo looks at you over his glasses and puts aside his book. You stealanother piece of cheese off his plate and eat it with a cracker. “Not a joke. I’man undertaker, own my own funeral home. Does that freak you out? I canunderstand if it does. Not everyone’s comfortable knowing someone handles deadbodies.” Hugo pushes up his glasses, giving your question serious thought. “Itdoesn’t freak me out as much as I wonder why anyone would want to do that for aliving. But it’s your choice, so I respect that. I know I would never, everwant to do something like that, but then, you probably feel the same aboutbeing a teacher.” You offer him cheese from your plate in silent appreciationfor what he said. You two settle back against each other, your back to hischest, and he picks up his book again. Comfortable silence descends on you likea soft cotton blanket. “There’s something else you should know,” you say and Hugoraises an eyebrow. “I only had to drive around with the hearse once, today, soI know exactly when he saw me. You might want to ask him what he was doing outof school at ten in the morning.” Hugo curses and sits up. “That little—“

#dream daddy #dream daddy: a dad dating simulator #ddadds #dream daddy imagine #dream daddy a dad dating simulator #death mention tw #Anonymous

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cleem123 · 7 years

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Hey! Your Kevin x Joaquin fics are to die for! Not sure if you're taking requests right now, but if you are, could you do one where Kev and Joaquin are just walking around aimlessly together, then Kevin realised they're at the place where he found Jason and the memories come back and he panics and Joaquin just holds him and calms him down? And it's just suuuuper fluffy? Thanks a bunch! And if you end up writing this, may I please be tagged? Thank you! xxx

Sweet Water River

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Starts out angsty, ends up fluffy

Warnings: graphic descriptions of death, alcoholism, panic attacks, guns, a lot of talk about death, like alot

Read it on AO3

Note: I strayed slightly from the prompt, apologies I hope you still like it. All of Joaquin’s backstory is my headcannon. If you haven’t read my other fics, Sebastian (a.k.a. Bas or Bastian) is Joaquin’s older brother. Also I forgot how old Joaquin was so he is seventeen in this.

Kevin had really thought that he could dothis. He didn’t think that it would affect him this much. Why was it affectinghim this much? He was walking hand in hand with his beautiful boyfriendalongside the bubbling river, and he knew that he shouldn’t be thinking aboutJason. It was impossible no to though. All he could picture was the boy’s deadeyes, the hole in his head, the way his skin had somehow grown even paler withdeath, the way the water had darken his hair, making in red like blood. Kevinhad never really liked Jason, but seeing someone who had once been so full oflife and spirit, he was captain of the football team for god sakes, seeingsomeone that vibrant be completely washed out, all signs of humanity rippedaway. Kevin couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. He didn’t realize that he wascrying until Joaquin’s thumbs were on his cheeks, brushing the tears away.

“Hey hey.” Joaquin comforted, pullingKevin to come sit down on a nearby rock. The river rose just enough to covertheir toes. “What’s wrong, Kev?” Kevin just shook his head, mind still reelingwith the memory of tripping over the dead boy. “Kevin. Kev, I need you tobreath.” Joaquin tried not to let Kevin see just how nervous he was. “Breathwith me baby.” Joaquin took a deep breath, slowly letting Kevin match his pace.He gently rubbed his hands up and down Kevin’s arms, trying to calm the otherboy.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”Kevin responded as soon as his breathing evened out. He could still feel hisheart beat racing, as if his heart was trying to escape his body. He felt likeshit. Why couldn’t he keep it together? He had seen dead people before, his dadwas the goddamn sheriff. He saw crime scene photos in his dad’s office all thetime. He could vividly remember his mom’s funeral; he remembered how she lookedall made up and calm in the silk lined coffin. Her eyes were closed, though.Jason’s had been open. Kevin had looked into Jason Blossom’s dead eyes. He hadstood beside Sweet Water River, just looking into those eyes while Moose calledKevin’s dad. “His eyes were so lonely Joaquin. How could someone dead look solonely?” Kevin finally looked up from his trembling hands to make eye contactwith Joaquin.

“I don’t know Kev, I really don’t know.”Joaquin ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide if he was ready to sharethis with Kevin. He took a deep breath, “I want to tell you about my family.”Joaquin mumbled, taking Kevin’s large hand in his smaller one. “But I think weshould probably get out of here first.” Kevin nodded, standing up and wrappinghis arm around Joaquin’s waist before beginning the walk back to Kevin’s dad’struck.

Joaquin didn’t let go of Kevin’s hand. Notwhile he was driving them back to the Keller residence, not when they madetheir way up to Kevin’s room, not when Kevin gently kissed him and pulled himonto the bed. Joaquin didn’t know if he would ever let go of Kevin’s hand.

Kevin almost had another panic attack asthey walked back to the truck, but he didn’t. Joaquin’s hand was firm in his,grounding him and keeping him present. He was sure that Joaquin was justhumoring him, not letting go of his hand, but Kevin couldn’t describe howimportant it was to him. He needed this. He needed Joaquin because his heartbeat was still racing. It didn’t calm down until he was lying in his room, surroundedby familiar sights and breathing in Joaquin’s familiar scent.

Kevin and Joaquin were lying on theirsides, facing each other. Kevin kept leaning in to brush his lips againstJoaquin’s, a ghost of a kiss. He found it reassuring, feeling the warmth of Joaquin’slips under his. He could feel the serpent’s heart beat where their chest werepressed together. When he looked into Joaquin’s eyes, they were full of liveand passion and, love? Kevin wasn’t sure. Was it too early for love?

“Kev, can I tell you about my parents?”Joaquin whispered, avoiding eye contact with the taller man. Joaquin didn’tknow why it was so important for him to tell Kevin about this. Maybe he thoughtit would calm Kevin down. Maybe help Kevin realize that Joaquin really didunderstand what he was going through. Cause Joaquin knew exactly what Kevin hadmeant when he had said that Jason’s eyes were lonely.

Kevin sucked in his breath. He didn’t knowif he was ready to hear about this, but he wanted to be there for Joaquin thesame way Joaquin had been there for him. “Absolutely.”

“I read somewhere that, after the age ofseven, our brains delete most of our memories from early childhood. But mybrain must have malfunctioned or something, cause every night, for thirteen years, I remember myparents.” Joaquin paused, closing his eyes and gripping tighter on Kevin’shand. “I was four when they died, and Bas tells me that I’m making it up, thatI’m remembering it all with rose colored glasses or something. I don’t think he’sever gotten over it.” Joaquin paused again and Kevin opened his mouth tocomfort him, to tell him that he understood, but Joaquin interrupted him. “Kev.If you start talking I don’t think I’ll get through this.” Kevin just nodded,resting his forehead against Joaquin’s and closing his eyes, inviting the boyto continue.

“Sebastian and I were in the car when myparents died. My dad was drunk, Sebastian says he can’t remember our dad everbeing sober. But my mom. My mom was trying to calm him down, trying to get himto stop yelling and to pay attention to the road. I remember her last words.How fucked up is that?” He laughed angrily. “I’m seventeen and I remember my mom’slast words. She said ‘Honey, calm down. You’re scaring the children.’ And hesaid ‘Why do you think I give a rat’s ass about the children?’ And then we hitthe black ice, and the car spun off the road. Bastian was only 14, he didn’tknow what the hell to do, so we just sat in the car until 911 showed up. I rememberlooking at my mom, blood dripping down her forehead and just knowing that Iwould never forget the look in her eyes. She look so sad and lonely.” It was Kevin’sturn to bring his thumbs up to wipe away tears. He pressed a kiss to both ofJoaquin’s cheeks, as if to erase the tear trails. Joaquin’s breath shook. “Kev,I want you to feel comfortable around me, okay? I need you to tell me if youaren’t okay with something.” Joaquin finished, trying to let Kevin know thatthey never had to go back to Sweet Water River again. Kevin smiled at him.

“I do feel comfortable around you Joaquin.I just, I thought I could do it.” He shrugged, “I was wrong. I just keptpicturing him, wondering how he must have felt in those last seconds, facing downthe barrel of a gun and just knowing that this was the end. That you were aboutto die.” Kevin’s breath had begun to accelerate again.

“Kev, calm down. Breathe okay, in and out.In and out.” Joaquin traced calming patterns on Kevin’s hand. Kevin slowed hisheart rate, but looked at Joaquin inquisitorially.

“How do you know how to deal with…whatever these things are?”

Joaquin sighed, “I told you Sebastian hadnever gotten over it right?” Kevin nodded. “Well, he had panic attackssometimes. I, uh, I had to figure out how to deal with it.” Kevin wasincredulous.

“Joaquin, you’re seventeen.”

“Well observed preppy” Joaquin chuckled.

“Shut up,” Kevin hit his shoulder, “Imean, you shouldn’t have to deal with this kinda stuff. You’re still a kid.”Joaquin smiled sadly.

“So are you. But you know what your mom’slast words were too. And you can’t go to the river cause of a dead kid.”Joaquin seemed to realize something, “We live in Riverdale Kev, we are asnormal as kids get in this town.” He smiled, his hand was still in Kevin’s, andhe used it to pull the taller boy impossibly closer to him, connecting theirlips.

Kevin sighed, deepening the kiss andforgetting about the shit they had been through. He was happy to just be withhis boyfriend. To kiss his boyfriend and hold his hand and know that nothingcould ruin this. This was his and this was perfect. He threw his leg overJoaquin’s, straddling the boy and furthering the kiss. He finally releasedJoaquin’s hand, bringing his up to slide under Joaquin’s shirt. Joaquinwhimpered into Kevin’s mouth.

Kevin pulled away, smirking.

“I love you.” He admitted, biting his lip.Joaquin smiled, before flipping them so he was on top, straddling Kevin.

“I love you too, preppy. Now shut up andlet me kiss you.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Kevin giggled andrelaxed under Joaquin’s lips.

Should I start putting these under a cut? I think maybe I should. Some of them are pretty long.

Hit me up with requests/prompts or if you’d like to be on my tag list.

Tag List: @glitteryloser @satan-is-here-bitch

#riverdale fanfiction #kevin x joaquin fanfiction #kevin x joaquin #kevin keller #joaquin desantos #joavin #kevquin #riverdale #riverdale fic #riverdale fanfic #kevin x joaquin fanfic #kevin x joaquin fic #satan-is-here-bitch

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