You smile and nod and wipe out another glass. Your eyes dart to the old man in the corner booth. You never see him come, but you always see him leave. Each night a new young lover on his arm.
You pretend not to see his wife watching with jealousy blazing in her eyes and peacock feathers printed on her dress. Her sharpened nails tap, tap, tapping a beat you can hear over the din.
'If they were still around, where are they?’ They continue with a wild wave of their arm. The man next to them looks up and grins and raises his glass at you in a toast and buys them another round. It’s only after he’s turned away you realize his teeth were too sharp and that the glint in his eye was something more than delight.
On the stage a young man sings. He’s there every night with his golden guitar and his golden skin and his golden hair. He sings of love and loss and boys who fly too high, only to fall. You know the song, he plays it almost every night.
His sister stands in the corner, watching, on edge. You keep half an eye on her. She seems constantly in motion yet when you focus, she is still. Last week she broke a man’s arm. You never saw her move.
'The old gods are dead.’ They say with finality.
You look around the room and meet old and tired eyes in hungry faces.
'Maybe,’ you begin and pause as the room seems to go quiet, holding its breath. 'Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.’
Imagine you suffer from insomnia and during those sleepless nights, you take the time for reading. When you start dating Loki, he is at first unaware of it as you hide it well, but he soon realizes that something is amiss. One night he wakes up and sees bed empty and cold and fears that someone must have taken you. When he stands from bed and walks around your apartment to search for you, he sees light in the small room that is usually locked and approaches it. Opening the doors, his eyes widen at the books that are displayed from one bookshelf to another, standing right next to each other along with a sofa by the window, where you were sitting and reading. You don’t spot him right away, until you feel pair of arms. Loki asks you of the reason why you’re up and reading and you finally tell him of your insomnia.
NOTES/WARNINGS: I’ve been conquering my bad sleeping habits lately (with some success, thankfully!), so this imagine is perfect for me to write in this moment in time :) It’s fairly short, but I really enjoyed writing it :)
The small, crammed room that Loki had assumed to be your own personal storage room in your house was currently your midnight abode. You sat, perusing a book, occasionally looking up to look outside the window to see the stars gleaming over the horizon. You were reading a soppy romance, which wasn’t out of the blue for you given your current state of sheer happiness with Loki. Everything that had once appeared so ‘cliche’ in these books now seemed to be completely and utterly.. normal to you and him. It was not to say that you both resumed a ‘cliched’ relationship, it was more the fact that you could now relate more closely to the love and happiness described in so many of these novels.
I want to be your lover. Not just any lover, but the lover that eats you alive, the lover you want so badly that it tears your beating heart right out of your chest. I want to show you what it means to unchain each other, bare our claws and fangs and antagonize the animal instinct in you that stimulates the animal need in me. I want to be the only one who knows what your desperate cries sound like in the night. What your arms feel like when the hunt and climax are over, our blood still pumping from the adrenaline, as the moon glows in through the thrilling transparency of your curtains. I want to be that wolf.
Word Count: Ion’t know | Genre: Real ass shit | Relationship: M/M | Warning: Unsafe for the eyes of those sensitive to real ass shit
A/N: A gift for Naruto, the birthday boy. SNS.
Overhead, fluttering under the bright rays of a radiant sun, a carrier pigeon delivered a scroll.
‘Hinata baked a birthday cake for me, but I just wanna get my 10 inch candle deep up in your cakes and fill you with my custard cannon baby. Use Water Release: Fleet no Jutsu before I arrive so I can eat a lil dessert with my present too. 😩💦💦💦👅🍅’
Sasuke rolled his eyes, scoffing at the lowly vulgarity. It wouldn’t be long before Naruto descended on him now. Subtlety didn’t exist in his dictionary.
A rendezvous in the Hokage’s mansion; that plan Naruto concocted when he swept Sasuke off his feet, ignorant of any passive protest, would end in his well-deserved favor. The fourteen missed calls from Hinata, the read receipt attached to the text prying into his whereabouts (Read: 3 hours ago), and the unsigned marriage annulment documents crumpled within Sasuke’s pocket fazed not a nerve-ending in his body. Naruto left all those obstructions to the birds as he hastily stabbed at the touchscreen of his phone, ‘I’m at Sasuke house playing the game like fr my dick gone get skid marks the way you riding it so hard 💀💀💀😂🔥🔥😂🔍🔍🔥😤😴,’ in an evasive maneuver that freed him from the all-too-tight chains of banal concepts such as personal responsibility.
Inhaling that fresh air of freedom, Naruto’s atoms dispersed in a vibrant beacon of light before flashing back together at his destination with his lover in his arms. Agreeable, subdued to no one’s path but one where they could be together, just like Naruto, and the Uchiha’s wife, expected him to be. In Naruto’s case, it was more akin to a demand than a expectation. A demand not expressed with teary eyes, passive threats one was too weak to act upon, and appeals to a romance one felt entitled to, but expressed with the promise of being saved by the threat of fists. The specter of breaking the other’s bones to drag him back home to complete his triad of emotional receptacles: the village, his aspiring monarchy, and a certain Uchiha’s acknowledgement. With a smile on his face and only the purest intentions lacing his heartstrings, Naruto refused to tolerate anything less from his most prized bond.
It elated Naruto to know Sasuke made not just the right choice, but the only choice.
Encased beneath a hurricane crashing in the violent waves of passion, Naruto found solace in nothing short of devouring the decadence of the Uchiha’s body like the sweetest confection. Eliciting sounds from Sasuke that not even his wife was privy to, committing the rich palate of his flesh to his tongue’s memory, and claiming every corner and curve his hands traversed as rightfully his own.
Said hand, an eager one, slid beneath the now disheveled hem of Sasuke’s shirt to trace the attractive grooves that shaped his lower abdomen and advertised a sharp pathway toward what begged for Naruto’s attention.
“M'gonna get in them guts and bust down your walls like the Kyuubi at the Konoha gates,” was the rasp that accompanied Naruto’s hand tugging down those pants, slipping his palm inside Sasuke’s underwear without shame, to reveal…
The heater, the burner, he was strapped with that draco.
“Happy Birthday, Naruto.”
Sasuke Uchiha, his lover, pistol whipped him in the heat of passion.
“The only walls you’re busting down are the ones to my reparations fund. You don’t want this work.”
Naruto, for once in all of his days…
Couldn’t believe it.
“You beat me down, begged me to return to this putrid country, and fraternize with the very elders who subjugated my family and ripped them away from me. The vermin who caused my defection in the first place drink tea with you, unsweetened at that. This ‘peace’ you professed to me was nothing but a farce to lure me here, and I won’t hesitate to bust a cap in your dome, your scalp, your cranium.”
Naruto’s eyes widened. Shock washed over his features like a tidal wave.
“B-B-But ya gotta understand the Leaf’s mistakes were-”
“Genocide and tyranny are not mistakes, braindead idiot,” he presses the barrel to Naruto’s forehead.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No. Deliver my reparations in monthly direct deposits or I will never let you snort lines of coke off my ass again.”
Now it was Naruto’s turn to fall silent. He never imagined Sasuke…didn’t need his saving.
“I’m sick of being the neighborhood’s emotional vessel, doling out validation by the demands of my so-called friends. Your parasitic acknowledgement, Sakura’s narcissistic love, Kakashi’s bruised sense of being a failed sensei who, in a brazen show of hypocrisy, disregarded my rightful goal when I was vulnerable and trusted him.”
“Shut up, usuratonkachi. It would behoove you to know: your dick game’s wack and your stroke is trash.”
Sasuke may or may not have been lying, but today is the day he rescinds that oh so coveted acknowledgement at all costs. Despite that, the color sapped from Naruto’s face at the blow to his strengths. There was no way his dick game was wack…
“You’re going to catch this bullet precisely where you catch my nut every night. In the eye.”
He cocks, the glock, the burner, the draco…
Naruto pauses, takes Sasuke by the wrist, gently.
“Wells Fargo or Bank of Konoha?”
“Neither. I’m with a credit union in the Sound Village. Write the reparations check for it there or I’ll make you spew the flames of Amaterasu straight from your asshole.”
Sasuke didn’t bother with his blabbering, his excuses. He had to pay the elders a visit now. Turning on his heel, he breezes past Naruto and begins to take his grand exit from the country yet again.
“Then…if you planned to leave me. Who were you getting thick for all this time?”
A low chuckle leaves Sasuke and he flashes his smirk over his shoulder.
Dean X Reader; Mary tells Dean that the reader cheated on him to stop him finding out about her (Mary) stealing from Ramiel.
Knocking on the door of the bunker, you shift on your heels outside of the place you used to call home. Palms sweaty, heart racing and you’re sure that you can smell the nervousness radiating from you.
The door opens, your now ex-boyfriend looking anything but jolly to see you on his doorstep. “Sorry, I already gave all my change to the homeless guy down the street.”
“I’m just here to get the rest of my stuff, then you’ll be clear of me for good.” Standing up straight, arms crossed against your chest, you hold your head up high, refusing to feel belittled by the man who tossed you away so easily.
He runs his tongue across his bottom lip arrogantly, a sarcastic smile on his face as he pulls open the door, inviting you inside begrudgingly. “Make it quick. Don’t take anything you didn’t pay for.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” you spit, striding past him angrily, the ache in your soul becoming even more prominent from being this close to Dean, yet knowing he’s no longer yours.
You pass Sam and Castiel in the kitchen, ignoring their judgemental gazes as you head to Dean’s room, to a bed that used to hold two bodies, not one.
Pushing all the memories within these walls away, you grab your suitcase from under the bed, flipping back the lid and throwing your belongings inside. You wanted to be out of this place as swiftly as you could be, your presence clearly unwanted.
“I’m surprised you had the nerve to show up here.” You look back over your shoulder, Mary leaning smugly against the door frame, your attention moving back to your suitcase. She was the reason you were packing in the first place, the lies she told Dean being the very statements to sever the ribbons of your relationship.
“Yeah? I’m surprised you’ve got the nerve to still be here.” you hiss, a bubble of laughter leaving her lips as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge, anger bubbling inside you. “Aren’t you afraid your web of lies will unravel?”
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart, my webs are perfectly crafted. My son will always believe his dear mommy over some worthless bitch.” Now it’s your turn to laugh, not a slither of humour in your tone. You skim your fingers over the white frame on the beside, the besotted couple grinning at the camera.
If someone had told you then, that just months down the line Mary would be alive and kicking, and she would be the very thing to rip your lover from your arms, you would’ve laughed in their face.
“You know what,” you spin around, your glare harsh enough to wound as you stare at the poisonous bitch in front of you. “I hope your boys never find out who you really are. It’d break them to know their mother almost killed their best friend.”
“Not only are you working for the British, but you disturbed the Prince of Hell, stole from him and then stood in silence as Castiel’s life drained from his eyes.”
Her expression turns colder as you taunt her, her lip quivering in anger, not being able to take the truth you’re dealing out. She makes her way towards you, fists clenching, as you speak aloud all the damage that she’s done. “Shut your mouth.”
You shake your head, standing up against her, refusing to cower under her wrath. “If you were my mom, I’d be wishing you’d have stayed on the ceiling.”
Smack! Your head sharply twists to the side as her hand makes contact with your cheek, smugness running through your veins with the knowledge that your words have hit home. “If you ever tell anybody about me stealing from Ramiel, I’ll cut your heart out.”
“She doesn’t need to tell me anything.” Mary jumps at the sound of the voice, your fingers rubbing your cheek, trying to soothe the sting. Dean enters the room, coming to stand by your side, his mother lost for words.
“Sweetheart, let me explain…” She trails off, the level of vexation in Dean’s eyes enough to shut her up. Her eyes move to you as you watch the scene unfold. “You little bitch-”
Dean pushes her back as she lunges for you, his broad figure standing protectively in front of your own, your heart clenching, hoping that maybe there is something left to salvage.
“I want you out of here, now. Don’t bother coming back.” Dean warns, the ice chill in his voice something you’d been faced with a few minutes before. Mary weighs up her options, before backing out of the room resentfully, a vengeful twinkle in her eyes.
Once she’s gone, you turn back to the task at hand, shoving your final few things into your suitcase, ignoring Dean’s burning stare on your back. You move around in silence, him not being brave enough to break it, and you wanting to hear an apology before anything else.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You freeze at the question, Dean’s voice timid as it should be. Throwing the shirt in your grasp onto the bed, you turn to face the older brother, not being able to believe his arrogance.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t remember you giving me a chance to say anything when you believed your mom’s bullshit lies over me.” He looks down at the floor as you scold him, your eyes beginning to glaze over with due to frustration.
“I’m sorry-” you cut him off with a scoff, his emerald eyes as glassy as your own as he lifts them upwards to meet you. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, tell him that everything is forgiven and you can go back to how it used to be.
“You weren’t sorry when you kicked me out in the pouring rain and called me a dirty whore.” The dam breaks, you cursing yourself as you turn your back on Dean, your fingers roughly swiping away the fallen tears.
You zip up your suitcase, thankful you’ll be alone in a few minutes and able to sob to your hearts content without prying eyes. “What are you doing? Don’t go.”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Dean?” you sniffle, grasping the handle of the case and holding the heavy object to your side. “I want you to be happy, and if that means me leaving, then so be it.”
You shove past the older Winchester, your chin quivering as you somehow hold in your cries. You let out a shaky breath as a hand grabs your arm, Dean’s warm touch stopping you in your tracks.
“Stay. All I want is for you to stay.” he pleads, his throat thick with emotion. You turn your head, his glassy eyes meeting your own, a desperate look on his face.
After what feels like hours of silence, you make your decision. “Five minutes. Let’s see how well you do.”
A/N - Thanks for all the support on my last Dean imagine, it was incredibleeeeeeee!!! Feel free to request :) now, gif before the imagine, or after??? Let me know! X