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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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the song of my heart (plays in you)

Written by: @thelettersfromnoone

Prompt 108: Everlark fall for one another over a blood transfusion. It happens not once, but twice. His blood runs through her veins, and now hers runs through his. What are the odds they would save each other’s lives? [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rated: Teen and up; mentions of: car wrecks, physical and mental trauma, amputation.

Tags: One-shot, Soulmates, Time Jump(s), Blood-Oaths.

Word count: 2342.

Notes: Unbetaed. All mistakes are my own. Thanks to @javistg and @xerxia31 for being amazing hosts for this exchange ❤️

“The blood [of the covenant] is thicker than [the] water [of the womb].”

“Mama, tell the story again?” Grey eyes peek up shyly through dark eyelashes, fingers curling the folds of her mother’s nightgown. “ ‘bout the dream-people?”

“It’s late, darlin’,” Mama murmurs with a soft smile. She presses a kiss to her daughter’s brow. “Papa will tell the long version tomorrow, hm?”

The girl’s lower lip pops out in a pout- papa is the better storyteller, but she wants to hear the story tonight. She snuggles against her mama’s belly, whispering a ‘night-night’ to the baby they say is growing in there.

“There once was a boy who was called to war, to fight for a king in a land far from home. Though he survived many times in battle, one day, an enemy struck him, and he was hurt, something terrible. At death’s door, his friends brought him to a healer’s house, who saved his life. As he recovered, he grew to love the healer’s daughter, and she grew to love him. In time, when he was recovered, his king came calling on him again. Before he left, the boy and the healer’s daughter made a blood-oath. They drew their own blood, and held their wounds against one another. They vowed that, from that moment until they met again, the song of their blood would call out for one another, no matter how far.”

Her little hand reaches over to mama’s, pressing their palms flush. “Like this?”

“Mhm,” Mama interlaces their fingers, kissing her daughter’s knuckles. “Just like this. Every night, while he was away, all they needed to do was close their eyes, and they could feel one another’s feelings, and see through one another’s eyes.”

“Till forever?” The little girl’s eyes are growing heavy, a yawn coming in spite of her best efforts. “Mama, it’s til’ forever, right?”

Mama doesn’t answer straight away. When she does, it’s soft as a butterfly’s flight; “Till forever, until they found each other again.”

The little girl’s breathing evens out, eyes slipping shut.

(She’s always wanting a happy ending.)

She’s twelve and using the computer unsupervised the first time she looks it up on a whim. She is meant to be researching poetry, but that quickly becomes dull.

Instead, the rabbit hole of the web sucks her in.

According to the internet page that comes up, a Blood-Oath Soulmate is defined as a myth, steeped in legend: a couple who, when faced with separation, make a blood-oath that allows them to see, hear, and feel one another across the thousands of miles.

The origin, exactly, is unclear. It’s a myth with several cultural variants- in her own region, Twelve, and in the northern regions of Åtta, Tio, and Tretton, the war is won, and the boy returns to the healer’s daughter. By contrast, in the southwest, they say the boy earned a glorious warrior’s death, and the girl grieves but honors his memory. In almost all the other regions, the myth is drawn out, many side-adventures and evils hinder the boy’s path home, and by the time the boy finds his way back to his love, amidst a continent of misery, they both are old and grey. It’s not clear where the myth started, some say it’s a retelling of an old Sumerian tale; others, that it comes from Viking oral lore. Some, still, argue that they all are true, that the same fate spreads itself throughout time, throughout the world, in different ways.

All modern experts, essentially, concur on the matter of the story’s implausibility. The human body replenishes its blood count within weeks, one discussion board points out.

It was just a myth to make humans feel their love could be impermeable, or withstand the tests of distance and challenges, claims another. Or, one user with a profane avatar states, the modern meaning is just guess-work and the cultural context and any kernels of truth will forever be lost.

And everyone knows there’s no such thing as a soulmate.

Kat feels her stomach clench as she quickly exits the browser, lonely in the wake of her father’s death, and her mother’s subsequent depressive episode, and still clinging to her mother’s hushed telling of a love that is palpable down to the bone.

(She can’t decide if knowing it’s ‘just a story’ hurts or helps more. The veneer of childhood is always treasured for a reason.)

She is seventeen when it happens.

A flash of a medical room. Harsh fluorescent lights. Thick, strong hands trying to block the light out. Starched sheets, scratching skin. A pinch of a needle and stifled shout-

She wakes covered in sweat.

Something is wrong, niggles at the back of her mind. Her pounding heart beats out wrong, wrong, wrong. She pushes it away, presses the thought down. She manages to lull herself back to sleep, a deep, imageless thing, but the wrongness sticks with her.

The next night is nearly identical, except the stranger’s hands are tearing off the bedsheets. A stump of a knee rests where a leg should extend. A panicking voice, a nurse, shouts for help as the struggling and screaming begins-

“Where’s my fucking leg?!”

Kat wakes with a jolt, strangled gasps as she pushes her own blankets off, hands grasping at her limbs, the phantom terror and horror bringing bile up her throat.

What was that?

A dreamless sleep doesn’t find her again, her eyes bruising with nights of nightmares and days of exhaustion. The hospital, the scratchy sheets, the nurses and medications and injections.

One week, then another.

She’s in Civics class when it occurs to her.

The blood drive, at the beginning of May. She’d turned seventeen, and finally weighed enough to donate blood.

Could it be…?

She sleeps in, one Saturday morning, when they are fitting a prosthetic on her stranger; crutches and halting steps as those beefy hands grip support bars.

“Just a step further,” a voice encourages.

Shame and frustration, and a deep, croaking voice lashes out of the throat-

“I can’t!”

You can, you can, you can, she tries to will the stranger her confidence.

The figure stills, and for a moment, she thinks they can hear her.

“I’m done,” they say, and in spite of the disappointment on the nurse’s face, a man in a white lab coat agrees, and helps them back into a wheelchair.

Kat feels the sinking failure, the desperate yearning to help this person, this stranger. There are only nurses and doctors, in her dreams. She knows what it means to be lonely, even when there are people around; what it means when you wake up in emotional pain, but have no one to share it with.

She wants to tell her stranger it will all be all right, but the weeks pass and she can only confide her secret to herself. They wouldn’t believe her, even if she could say it in person.

Where is your family? she tries to ask.

They never seem to hear her.

(Waking becomes harder, but she can’t confide in anyone that she wakes wishing she could live in her dreams without them thinking she’s gone mad.)

They are kneading dough, seated at a wood table in a cluttered kitchen. The prosthetic is fitting to the leg, tender today but not sore, exactly. She can smell the flour and feel the silky-smooth texture between her fingers. Smoothe jazz music is playing, from a radio over on the counter. She feels a hand squeezing her stranger’s shoulder.

“Looks good, Pete.” It’s a gruff voice, but not unkind.

“Needs to rise,” her stranger- ‘Pete’!- retorts. They don’t look up, but she can feel a flush on her ‘Pete’s’ cheeks.

“We got some coursework from the school, then.”

(She doesn’t realize this is the last she will dream of her stranger.)

The dreams evaporate, after eight weeks, as abruptly as they had begun.

In the aftermath of her first dreamless night in over a month, she wakes to the dawn breaking with no images from her stranger.

‘Pete’.

She tries to will herself back to sleep, compel visions back from the brink. It’s the first night she thinks to try and remember the names of the doctors and nurses, or the location of the hospital. The nametags are foggy in her memories, a nurse Jackie or Jenny and a last name they had abbreviated to, ‘A.’

The internet doesn’t help her any more than her own mind can. ‘An amputee named ‘Pete’ who likes to knead dough and is doing high school coursework at home’ doesn’t do much in a White Pages search.

She writes it all down, then, each snippet and sound she can recall. She keeps the journal under her mattress, knowing her mother won’t bother, and her baby sister wouldn’t dare to look.

Like a madwoman, she rereads her own accounts, adds notes to it every morning, hoping the dreams will start again. But every morning, the dreams seem more as if they were fantasies, and her journal reads like fiction.

A year passes.

Her dreams now are either blank, or memories of ‘Pete’.

She could blame it on her family friend, and his stupid insistance that she attend Prom; or maybe the girlfriends she eats lunch with, who guilt her by saying that everyone needs a life outside of school, and after-school jobs.

Kat had only driven into town because she needed a damn dress. Two weeks later, and she would have been exhausted from Prom as she crossed the school stage, collecting her high school diploma.

Nothing pans out the way she imagines it will, though.

She’s alone in the car when a truck in the oncoming lane overturns at a curve in the road.

Pain bursts on her head. Flames against her skin. Crushed metal, and broken glass. In the distant fog of wailing sirens, she can hear first responders attempting to call out to her.

The only thing she remembers seeing clearly, between the accident and the hospital, is smoke rising into a blue, cloudless sky, through a shattered windshield.

“You lost a lot of blood, Kat,” the doctor says, tone not unsympathetic. “We had to do a transfusion.”

“Oh.”

She blinks, a haze of morphling in her preventing her from fully comprehending. Some broken bones. A neck brace. Burns on her face and arms, but not as bad as they first had thought- she won’t need skin grafts.

All small mercies.

Her sister and mama are there, balloons and flowers and hugs a-plenty. Get-well-soon cards from several classmates and family friends.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” her mama murmurs, as the doctor leaves.

“Okay.”

Mama runs her fingers through Kat’s knotted hair, while her sister clings and tells her how much she loves her.

She’s not numb, not beneath the morphling. But she’s so damn tired and her skin itches under the bandages.

(She can’t comfort her family while they try their hand at comforting her.)

She is washing her hands in the hospital room sink, when she feels a jolt, a compulsion; a chill down her spine and gooseflesh down her arms. She looks in the mirror, and feels in awe, feels a foreign elation. A burst of affection, a warmth.

She can’t reckon with it, can’t justify it.

It’s just… her own face. Sloppily braided dark hair. Healing stitches on her cheek, and forehead. Silver eyes, surrounded by a bruise, set in a narrow face. She gulps, leaning in closer, and trying to grasp the sensation. Out-of-body, might be the right term- dissociative, she’d read about once, for Health and Wellness.

There’s a knock on her door, the nurse doing a check, and as Kat turns, the warmth dissipates.

The nurse comes in not long after, checks her vitals and asks a series of questions.

“My name is Katniss Everdeen.”

That warmth in her chest is back, the hair at the base of her neck stands straight.

She scrubs her hands over her face, focusing on the simple questions the nurse is asking.

“I’m eighteen years old. I’m graduating from PPH12 in Sommen in one week. I’m at Merchant Memorial Hospital.”

In the bathroom that night, she stares at her own reflection, and wonders if maybe that feeling of someone looking over her shoulder- more like looking through her eyes- if maybe….

She fogs up the mirror, and writes her room number. She stares at it, for a time, before scoffing at own ridiculousness, and wiping it away with her towel.

She only has one day left before being discharged, though she’ll miss graduation and the parties that would entail. She can’t say she is particularly disappointed; she’s never been a party person.

She’s awake when the door to her shared hospital room opens. She pays it little mind. The curtain around her bed is pulled taught, her roommate jabbering away on their phone about the food service as if this were fine dining, rather than a hospital. Kat is reading a get well card, this one signed by the whole senior class and class advisors.

There’s a thrumming in her veins, but that might be them weaning her off of the morphling.

Curtain rings scrape against metal, and she barely glances up, the nurse rounds due any minute now. Normally, though, the bubbly nurse who does the day-shift is already bustling with an overwhelming enthusiasm that makes Kat question how exhausted the nurse is at the end of the day.

Maybe it’s a different nurse or a doctor or mama, or-

The blue eyes that are boring into hers are ones she has only seen in her dreams; she can finally see blonde curls framing them, familiar thick, strong hands brushing through the curls.

“Pete?” she croaks, certain she’s finally lost her damn mind.

His eyes widen at the sound of his name, lips parting.

“I found you.”

A tone of surprise, as if he’d driven all this way, but in expectation of disappointment.

“Peeta,” he introduces himself, edging closer. His hand carefully takes hold of her own. “And… I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Katniss.”

(Her name has never been spoken as sweetly, and her heart has never felt so full.)

#thelettersfromnoone #mandelion82 #prompt 108 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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a-cure-for-writers-block · 4 years

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#100 Song Lyric Prompts

No one specifically requested, but I wanted to do this so bad! Here we go...

“Will nature make a man of me yet?”- The Smiths, This Charming Man

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”- Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.”- Hozier, Work Song

“I don’t think that we should be alone together, when we’re in a room you get my eyes, you open your mouth I’m hypnotised”- The Neighbourhood, Single

“She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me and suddenly the sky is a scissor”- Arctic Monkeys, That’s where you’re wrong

“You think you want to be alone, just wait until you’re crying on the shower floor” “They’ve got a pretty face, but they’ve got a pretty empty head.” “But how the hell do you fall in love, the last time I checked you can’t fall in slow mo”- LANY- The Breakup *There were too many good ones in this song, I couldn’t help myself*

“I know it’s mad, but if I go to hell will you go with me or just leave?” - Panic! At The Disco, Do you know what I'm seeing?

“I don’t know who’s protecting me, but we hit it off”- Drake, Sandra’s Rose

“Do me a favour and break my nose, do me a favour and tell me to go away?”- Arctic monkeys, Do me a favour

“Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more”- The Neighbourhood, Baby came home

“Just one mistake, you say you’re not in love no more, but was it really love if you can leave me for something so innocent is this the end?”- LANY, Thick and thin

“You can have Manhattan, I know it’s for the best, I’ll gather up the avenues and leave them on your doorstep. I’ll tiptoe away so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.” “You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share, the one where we were laughing and drunk on just being there. Hang onto the reverie, could you do that for me?”- Sara Bareilles, Manhattan

“You don’t love me, big fucking deal, I’ll never tell you how I feel.” “I'll send my best regards from Hell”- Marina and the Diamonds, Starring Role

“I been writing these songs ‘bout how I can’t be with you. I don’t want to be a monster, but I’ve been here for days, drinking too much now I want you, can’t get you off my brain.”- Henry, Monster, Eng. version

“Change lives, get better, yeah that be the plan” “That’s why you see me winning, yeah, even after I lose”- Jay Park, Ask bout me

“Love is not looking over shoulders, Love is you should trust what I told you” “Love is not struggling to say I love you”- 6LACK, Disconnect

“All these people taking miles when you give them an inch, all these followers but who's gonna follow me until the end?”- Drake, Emotionless

“She’s in the rain, you wanna hurt yourself I’ll stay with you, you wanna make yourself go through that pain, It’s better to be held than holding on,”- The Rose, She’s In The Rain *Absolutely love this one, don’t @ me, I will die for the The Rose**

“Sex by the fire at night”- Bruno Mars, That’s What I Like

“I’ve got the good side of you, sent it out into the blue.”- Troye Sivan, Good Side

“Standing by the window, rain falling, I want to have you full in my embrace and tell you, even when I’m born again and love you, even then, will you be with me?”- KREAM, 선물 Gift *Translated*

“It all passes, Someday, For sure, Certainly”- RM, ft. NELL, everythingoes *Translated*

“Please stay as long as you need, can't promise that things won't be broken, but I swear that I will never leave. Please stay forever with me”- Sleeping With Sirens, Scene One- James Dean & Audrey Hepburn

“When you move, I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“Wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?”- Billie Eilish, come out and play

“Am I a bad person? Or am I just in pain?”- DEAN, Sulli, Rad Museum, Dayfly *Translated*

“Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us, deeply poisoned by the jail of you, I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway”- BTS, Blood Sweat & Tears *Translated*

“When the sun sets and darkness comes, I only remember your warmth, where the stars wrap around us. I’m going there, I’ll be there”- SEVENTEEN, Highlight *Translated*

“I don't ever wanna feel like anything I do ever had a fucking resonance or meant a thing to you.”- Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, I Hate You

“You can’t take this away from me, the way I hit the melody, the waves bring clarity, running through me”- Tom Misch, Del La Soul, It Runs Through Me

“It was a lie when they smiled and said you won’t feel a thing”- My Chemical Romance, Disenchanted

“The fog has lifted and things get clear, all the lies pass by like a reel of film. I hate you”- EXO, 내가 미쳐 (Going Crazy) *Translated*

“I’m sorry- no, I’m not sorry, I’m just getting started and my life’s a party”- DEAN, Eric Bellinger, I’m Not Sorry

“Ain’t it fun, living in the real world?”- Paramore, Ain’t It Fun

“Ready or not, we are coming back- yeah, we’re over, we can tell you ‘bout what you need. You can look it up when you’re older”- Evergreen, Cargo Cult

“You, you got so much potential, every moment spent with you I bet was always eventful”- Aminé, Kehlani, Heebiejeebies- Bonus

“Could you imagine the taste of your lips if we never tried to kiss on the drive to Queens? 'Cause I imagine the weight of your ribs if you lied between my hips in the backseat”- Halsey, Roman Holiday

“Forever isn’t for everyone, is forever for you?”- Arctic Monkeys, Snap Out Of It

“Wish you good luck being lonely, I’mma push red every time you phone me. You vow to be a memory”- Ella Mai, ft. Ty Dolla $ign, She Don’t

“I’ve been dazed and confused from the day I met you, yeah I lost my head and I’d do it again”- Ruel, Dazed & Confused

“I just want you closer, is that alright? Baby let's get closer tonight”- Paolo Nutini, Last request

“You have no idea how pretty you are when you wake from sleep, you have no idea how beautiful you look as you get ready for bed”- Zion.T, No Makeup *Translated*

“I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight, baby, ‘cos I can’t get you off my mind”- Shawn Mendes, Lost In Japan

“She's soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand, she takes care of me, baby, she helps me be a better man. She's so beautiful, sometimes I stop to close my eyes, she's exactly what I need”- Jeremy Passion, Lemonade

“And her lips are like the galaxy's edge and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place”- Arctic Monkeys, Arabella

“It's how you look, not how you feel. A city of glass with no heart”- Queens of the Stone Age, If I Had a Tail

“I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife”- Hozier, Take Me To Church

“Bitter and hardened heart, Oh, aching- waiting for life to start”- Keane, Bend & Break

“When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“She said, ‘Baby, I'm afraid to fall in love, 'cause what if it's not reciprocated?’ I told her, ‘Don't rush girl, don’t you rush, guess it's all a game of patience.’”- Pink Sweat$, Honesty

“Share a casket with you, we’ll be buried alive, me and her playing truth ‘til the day we die.”- Granata Ft. Phoniks, You Dont Need Me

“And hope that I had survived yesterday, and today is jealous of tomorrow.”- Emeli Sandé, Breathing Underwater

“Heaven if you sent us down so we could build a playground for the sinners to play as saints, you'd be so proud of what we've made.” Stephen, Crossfire

“Tell me how do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night? How do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night?”- blackbear, make daddy proud

“If anyone looks perfect, you look perfect next to me.”- Nick Wilson, Obsolete

“When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you were my future), I’ll know (I was your yesterday). When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you protected me), I’ll know (I desired you).”- SEVENTEEN (Wen Junhui & Xu Minghao), My I *Translated*

“I need my sex n’ drugs, I need my money first, bless me with all my sins.”- Abhi The Nomad, Ft. Harrison Sands & Copper King, Sex ‘n Drugs

“Naked and fallin' in love, look here I got you. Safe where there's no one to judge, keep it insightful.”- Keiynan Lonsdale, Preach

“All alone, all we know is haunting me, making it harder to breathe, harder to breathe.”- The Neighbourhood, Leaving Tonight

“Now I see you get off of the subway, haven't seen you in months but it's okay. I'd forgotten but I feel the same, hate that I still wish you were...”- Claud, Wish You Were Gay

“A perfect stranger lying next to me, he's playing God with broken figurines. He keeps calling me his little queen and I believe.”- Jake Wesley Rogers, Little Queen (This song deserves way more recognition, make sure to give it a listen!)

“Hell is so close to Heaven, hell is so close to Heaven. Hold on don't look back, you know we're better- we’re better than that. Lost and thrown away, you know we're better- we’re better than that.”- Sleeping With Sirens, The Strays

“Alone tonight, I’m drawing my dreams across the sky farther than I can imagine- She wants it.”- CIX, Movie Star *Translated*

“Yeah I mixed words and some whiskey on the flight just to make sure I landed on time and I wrote me a song I could sing just in case I forgot everything.”- Marc E. Bassy, Last One I Love

“Don't ask questions you don't wanna know, learned my lesson way too long ago.” “Deadly fever, please don't ever break, be my reliever 'cause I don't self medicate”- Billie Eilish, my strange addiction

“And it's worth it, it's divine, I have this some of the time.”- Hozier, Cherry Wine

“And I realize you're mine, Indeed, a fool am I.”- Queens of the Stone Age, No One Knows

“Look in the mirror ‘til I forget everything I know, everything I did was just a way to make the time feel faster.”- Miya Folick, Stock Image

“Do you feel how I feel? Are you numb? Do you tread crystal waters, bound to be stung? Are you scared? If I see you, we're upon, will you dye your hair dark so you're no longer blonde?”- Isaac Dunbar, Cologne

“Tell me; To you I’m bad & hurtful. Because I’ve been busy, you’re hurting. Bad, bad, bad, I’m bad, bad.”- Crush, NAPPA (나빠) *Translated*

“Just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of: A. Indifference or B. disinterest to what the critics say.”- Panic! At The Disco, London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines

“‘Cause you don’t say what you feel, I'm the one driving but you take the wheel. You wanna wait, 'til we're older, I'm the one who started this, but now I just want closure.”- Ieuan, Closure

“Our names carved in the pavement, sealed by what's left of our handprints, now. I told my mom, she'd love to meet you, but it's too bad she won't get the chance to.”- COIN, Malibu 1992

“I'm running outta time to hold you close, running outta time to be your man. I'm just lost in this moment, I've been zoning.”- blackbear, 4u

“Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever. Oh and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never”- Bryan Adams, Summer Of ‘69

“I'll go out, grow my hair too long, sing your least favourite songs at the top of my lungs. I'll go out, kiss all of your friends, make a story and pretend it was me who made this end.”- The Vamps, Hair Too Long

“Getting my mind right, I'll wait 'til the time's right. I'm meaning to tell you why it's hard to sleep at night. There's nothing to fear now, girl, we should be here now. So why don't you hear me out?”- Jeremy Zucker, Ft. blackbear, talk is overrated

“We haven't spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated. Why won't you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”- Harry Styles, From the Dining Table

“Look overhead at the stars and the ocean, foggy emotions, moments, erosion. This supernova could cause a commotion, my minds of the notion, you'll still be my motive”- Ansel Elgort, Supernova

“I love that new dress you bought, yeah, you sure look nice. Heard you liked that new restaurant, you know, I've been there twice. And the way that you switch up your hair, all of the moments we've shared, strolling the streets back in Rome, oh, how I wish I was there. It ain't fair.”- Ruel, Face To Face

“Welcome to your life, there's no turning back. Even while we sleep we will find you acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature.”- Tear For Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World

“I'm wide awake, not losing any sleep, I picked up every piece and landed on my feet. I'm wide awake, need nothing to complete myself, no.” Katy Perry, Wide Awake

“If you don't realize, all of the things your life can do you will be left behind, swept up by the storm of those you knew.”- Meltycanon, thankful

“I always knew that we'd be by each other's side forever, now our time has come and I'd be satisfied if we died together. Yeah, our climate's fucked, we might as well enjoy the weather, our time is up and I'd be satisfied if we died together.”- Samsa, Anthropocene

“There's still so much to say, I'm faded, broken, pretending you're on the line, wasting my time. Sinking deeper, watching you spend your night, like I'll be fine and I'll be over this.”- NYK, Faded

“I’d rather go to hell, than be in purgatory, cut my hair, gag and bore me, pull this pin, let this world explode.”- My Chemical Romance, Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)

“I reached for a shooting star, it burned a hole through my hand Made its way through my heart, had fun in the promised land.”- blink-182, Wishing Well

“Let go of your baggage, but don’t think I don’t understand it’s probably a challenge,”- Isaac Lewis, Fly

“It's been a long night in New York city, it's been a long night in Baton Rouge. I don't remember you looking any better, but then again, I don't remember you.”- John Mayer, Who Says

“They say that love kills, it ain't quite what it seems, don't be shocked when you lost what you called ‘meant to be’.”- StayLoose, Bryce Fox, Sociopath

“When they come for You, I will shield Your name, I will field their questions, I will feel Your pain.”- Kanye West, Ultralight Beam

“Two steps forward, one step back and it won’t be long til my heart attack, yup! And common sense falls second place to the way it feels when you kiss my face, yup!”- The Band CAMINO, 2 / 14

“Leaving empty souls when he avenged, evil spirits flowed, he drank the blood like lemonade.”- Morcheeba, Blood Like Lemonade

“Your smile will become a classic; the brilliance of sunlight, the haziness of the moonlight exist for the sake of promises.”- WayV, Moonwalk

Dear God, I hope you got the letter and I pray you can make it better down here. I don't need a big reduction in the price of beer, but all the people that you made in your image- see them starving on their feet.”- Lawless, Sydney Wayser, Dear God

“Down below, sandy, like the ocean floor, quiet, like I like it; here I'll never be alone.”- slenderbodies, anemone

“I love everything, fire spreading all around my room, my world's so bright, it's hard to breathe but that's alright- hush.”- Sub Urban, Cradles

“I'm telling myself, I'm telling myself, ‘I don't need you anymore’.”- Lia Marie Johnson, Cold Heart Killer

“So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind, it turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie. Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine- it's killing me slowly.” Lana Del Rey, Fuck it I love you

“See, she knows that I love her, but I don't think she'll stay and she knows that I need her, but my love's lost its weight. Spend my days longing for something real, spend my days stuck in the way I feel.”- JOBA, Sad Saturdays

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jaimehwatson · 3 years

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I made another Snowpiercer playlist!

After posting my Wilford/Audrey playlist a while ago, I added some songs that didn’t quite make the cut to a different playlist, intending to put together another similar one. But rather than focusing on just one ship this time, I also ended up getting really interested in theorizing about what Wilford’s relationship with Melanie might have been like before the Freeze, and exploring the idea that maybe there was something going on there and some kind of love triangle with Audrey.

So here’s my new playlist, full of absolute jams that could apply to any combination of relationships involving Wilford, Audrey, and Melanie, and/or just general Snowpiercer vibes! Read on for more detail about the songs I selected, and as before, content warning for references to canon abuse & self-harm/suicide.

1. “The Tradition” by Halsey

Oh, the loneliеst girl in town Was bought for plenty a price Well, they dress her up in golden crowns His smile hides a lie

She smiles back, but it's a fact That her fear will eat her alive Well, she got the life that she wanted But now all she does is cry

Thanks @onetrainsnowpiercer for getting me into this excellent album! I thought it would be fitting to kick off the playlist with one that could suit the earlier days of Wilford’s relationship with Audrey, like my previous playlist was more focused on.

2. “cardigan” by Taylor Swift

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Did you think I would make a Snowpiercer playlist without Taylor Swift on it? Not a chance. I picture this one being more from Melanie’s perspective, reflecting on possibly having had some kind of ill-fated romance with Wilford when she was young and naive.

3. “No Children” by The Mountain Goats

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong

I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

The only reason this perennial favourite of mine wasn’t on the first playlist was that I had too many Mountain Goats songs already and wanted to keep things balanced. But this one got all the ones that didn’t make it to the first playlist plus some more I thought about later, so I’m kind of giving up on that balance by now. They just have a lot of great songs about terrible relationships, and I love them all so much.

4. “Gold Guns Girls” by Metric

I remember when we were gambling to win Everybody else said, "Better luck next time." I don't wanna bend like the bad girls bend I just wanna be your friend Is it ever gonna be enough?

This is another one that I can picture being about young Melanie, gradually growing more aware of everything that’s terribly wrong with Wilford and his approach to life, and of how little he cares to try to fix it.

5. “You’ve Haunted Me All My Life” by Death Cab for Cutie

And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

You've haunted me all my life You've haunted me all my life You are the mistress I can't make a wife And you've haunted me all my life

And this one I can see being Wilford thinking about either one of the women, and his unhealthy attachment to them and inability to keep them around for very long—maybe once he’s finally reunited with them both on some level in season 2, but still can’t fully persuade them both over to his side.

6. “Old College Try” by The Mountain Goats

From the cities to the swamplands From the highways to the hills Our love has never had a leg to stand on From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elavils

But I will walk down to the end with you If you will come all the way down with me

Another Mountain Goats classic. If you divorce it from its context of being from a concept album about a horrible marriage, I actually think this song is kind of sweet in the way it describes a couple still committing to try to make things work despite a whole host of problems. But never mind that now, because I’m putting it back in the new context of a whole collection of horrible romantic relationships!

7. “Risk” by Metric

So you're beaten up but you bounce back It’s all part of the pull And the story runs like a soundtrack We repeat 'til we're full Started slow, started late Started strong, then we lost faith Started slow, started to lose control The more we accelerate, the more we accelerate

Half of arranging any playlist I make is just trying to split up the Mountain Goats and Metric songs so that they aren’t always clumped together. Anyway, this one seems especially fitting to me in its imagery of a speeding vehicle of some kind (it’s a train, I’m always picturing a train) alongside its description of a relationship going badly.

8. “Big God” by Florence + The Machine

You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You'll always be my favourite ghost

I think this one could be any one of the three of them contemplating their complex feelings about the past at some point around season 2.

9. “I Still Do” by The Cranberries

I don't want to leave you Even though I have to I don't want to love you Oh, I still do

There aren’t as many specifics that match the characters going on in the lyrics here, since it’s more of just a general break-up song, but I also really like the creepy way it sounds.

10. “Fault Lines” by The Mountain Goats

But none of the money we spend Seems to do us much good in the end I got a cracked engine block, both of us do

Yeah, the house and the jewels, the Italian racecar They don't make us feel better about who we are I got termites in the framework, so do you

This one feels really fitting for pre-Freeze Wilford, especially the engine imagery!

11. “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy

Say my name and his in the same breath I dare you to say they taste the same Let the leaves fall off in the summer And let December glow in flames

Erase myself and let go Start it over again in Mexico These friends, they don't love you They just love the hotel suites

Another song that is simply a) an absolute jam, and b) generally fitting for my favourite obscenely rich asshole and his terrible relationships

12. “You asked for this” by Halsey

I want my cake on a silver platter I want a fistful in my hands I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I wanna ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I wanna cry so hard, I choke I want everything I asked for

This one I can picture as Audrey—or maybe Melanie too, but especially Audrey—beginning to regret getting involved with Wilford, but only once she’s in way too deep for leaving to be a safe or easy decision.

13. “my tears ricochet” by Taylor Swift

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

Much like several other Taylor Swift songs, I just know in my heart that it’s the type of music Wilford listens to in secret, while possibly drunk and definitely singing along very dramatically. This one he dedicates to Melanie once they’ve met up again in season 2.

14. “Speed the Collapse” by Metric

All the way from where we came Built a mansion in a day Distant lightning, thunder claps Watched our neighbor's house collapse Looked the other way

This one has a lot of good apocalyptic imagery that I can imagine scoring Wilford’s life in the last few years before the Freeze, as he makes his plans to save himself and let so many others die.

15. “Ox Baker Triumphant” by The Mountain Goats

I will thank my ride and crawl my way back inside To the guts of the building where my enemies Hide in the dark like roaches And I will signal the camera crew and everyone will do What he's been trained how to do Sweat dripping from my face as my moment approaches

Click your heels, count to three I bet you never expected me A little worse for wear Practically walking on air

I love this song a lot, and listening to it lately makes me imagine Wilford plotting his revenge while on his way to catch up with Snowpiercer before the end of season 1.

16. “Firewood” by Regina Spektor

The piano is not firewood yet But the cold does get cold So it soon might be that I'll take it apart, call up my friends And we'll warm up our hands by the fire

Don't look so shocked Don't judge so harsh You don't know You’re only spying Everyone knows it's going to hurt But at least we'll get hurt trying

This has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. It’s very beautiful, and I love the piano in it. I’ve always personally interpreted it to be at least partially about someone surviving a suicide attempt, and the overall imagery about burning a piano for warmth—and this bit about not judging someone for doing that—reads to me as more of a general statement about the difficult choices people struggling with mental illness and other similar issues have to make to survive. I listened to it recently and I could picture Audrey singing it in the nightcar. I think it suits her well.

17. “Cry for Judas” by The Mountain Goats

But I am just a broken machine And I do things that I don't really mean Long, black night Morning frost I'm still here But all is lost

I think the imagery of this song suits the show a lot in general, but I can also particularly imagine it being Wilford in a rare moment of self-awareness about how much damage he’s caused to the world and the people around him.

18. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” by David Bowie

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget Oh oh, oh, oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide

I love Wilford a lot. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him ever. I hope he kills more people, and I hope he gets his train back, and I hope he wins. But if he does eventually die in the show, I hope he’s found in the bathtub with there being some ambiguity about whether he really killed himself or whether one of his victims turned the tables on him, and I hope the climax of this song swells as the camera pans over his dead body. That’s the only Wilford death I will accept, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

19. “Source Decay” by The Mountain Goats

I park in an alley And I read through the postcards you continue to send Where as indirectly as you can, you ask what I remember I like these torture devices from my old best friend Well, I'll tell you what I know, like I swore I always would I don't think it's gonna do you any good I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok Down toward the water

Okay, I promise this is the last Mountain Goats song on the playlist. It’s just—it’s perfect. It has a train in it. And on the podcast “I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats,” John Darnielle commented that there’s barely anywhere you can go south of Bangkok before you hit the water, it’s a train going nowhere, it’s so good. It’s also one of the songs I’ve previously ripped a line off for my fanfiction titles!

20. “Sellers of Flowers” by Regina Spektor

The sellers of flowers Buy up old roses They pull off dead petals Like old heads of lettuce And sell ’em as new ones For cheaper and fairer But they die by the morning So who is the winner? Not the roses Not the buyers Not the sellers Maybe winter

And Regina Spektor closes out the playlist again! This song is another one I picked more on imagery and vibes than anything else. But since it’s about a young child in a world that seems to be moving inexorably toward an all-consuming winter, if it suits any of the characters, maybe it’s an appearance of Alex here at the end!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the playlist!

#snowpiercer #wilford #music #snowpiercer tv

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recycledcactus · 3 years

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c!Wilbur & Eight by Sleeping At Last analogy

because apparently c!Wilbur was based off that song? Link here

!!!!Okay so this is not all in canonical order. It’s just based on every lyric/line!!!!

Most of it is during the Pogtopia arc and Wilbur insanity arc though.

For @soot-spots I hope you like it. It’s written very weirdly and not like a regular analogy so bear with me here:

Lyrics are in italics like this [My analogies are bolder and in brackets like this]

I remember the minute It was like a switch was flipped I was just a kid who grew up strong enough To pick this armor up And suddenly it fit

[I think here, during the unknown of time before L’Manburg and after his childhood, Wilbur is thinking about his past with Philza. How Philza ‘raised’ him, AKA was an absent parent half the time. He knew how to survive, yes, and he knew Phil was somewhat proud of him. But Wilbur always felt he needed to prove himself. Techno constantly had Phil’s attention, so Wilbur wanted some for himself. He forced the metaphorical armour to fit. He forced himself to be responsible and strong. To act like he knows what he’s doing. People believed him, they followed him, so maybe the armour could fit.]

God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive And I grew up too quick

[I’m thinking this is probably in Pogtopia. Wilbur reflects on his past self and laughs. How naive could he have been? Thinking if he started a nation, Phil would pay attention to him? He was so stupid. So needy. Phil never cared. He forced himself to be responsible and grow up and prove himself that he didn’t take the time to be a child. And now look where he is, in a ravine, without his home, country, or people. Just Tommy. (Tommy, who also grew up far too quick. Tommy who should still be growing up and not exiled in a ravine separated from his best friend).]

Now you won't see all that I have to lose And all I've lost in the fight to protect it I won't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected

[(Pogtopia arc). He stops writing letters to Phil. He stops ranting on and on, filling up the pages with messy scrawl, about his victories, his losses, his thoughts and feelings. He stops pouring his heart out in these letters and telling Phil about everything he’s done. He rarely gets replies and when he does, they’re always short and blunt. His heart can’t take how little his father cares anymore, so he stops all contact.]

I want to break these bones 'til they're better I want to break them right and feel alive You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong My healing needed more than time

[(Pogtopia arc). Tommy tried desperately to encourage his brother and tell him that things would work out, that Wilbur could be better with more time. But Wilbur could only lash out and yell, punching walls and pacing wildly and tearing at his hair until small indents were carved into the floor of Pogtopia. He yelled at Tommy, screamed and berated him. And for what? Tommy was a kid. Tommy was forced into this. Tommy was trying to help. Wilbur can’t take back those words now. He couldn’t do anything. Nothing was enough. Nothing could bring him out of his head. He’d lost. It’s over. There’s nothing left, there’s— he’s—]

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things I see the familiar I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too Now I'm a broken mirror

[(Pogtopia arc). Wilbur looks at himself in a mirror and doesn’t even recognize himself. The bags under his eyes are too big and his hair is too matted. There’s dirt cakes on parts of his coat and his shirt is covered in patches to keep it together. But he thinks maybe he’s stronger. He’s learned from his old self. He used to get too attached to people and things only to be betrayed and thrown out of his own country. He was weak. But now that he had nothing, he was stronger than ever, right? They say a man with nothing to lose can do anything he wants, right? There can’t be a harsher consequence than being exiled and thrown out of the country you built. Wilbur can do what he wants. He looks into Tommy’s eyes and sees a reflection of himself––broken, too. Broken and lost. But not the same. Tommy is so much stronger than him and maybe that does make him mad.]

But I can't let you see all that I have to lose All I've lost in the fight to protect it I can't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford to let myself be blindsided

[(Pogtopia arc). He puts on an air of self-confidence and (albeit grim) cheeriness for Tommy. He can’t show his little brother that he has no hope. He can’t show him he’s truly planning on blowing up L’Manburg and that it’s not just ‘Plan Bomb’. He can’t bring himself to talk to Tommy about how shitty things are for him because he knows Tommy has it shittier. Tommy is 16 and scared and traumatized and is holding himself up for his brother & Tubbo. He doesn’t need more problems to worry about. Wilbur smiles only to walk away and break down. He covers up how hopeless he feels and how far gone he thinks he is. He offers up plans of taking his country back just to see Tommy’s eyes light up. But he can’t help but know L’Manburg will all be blown up. He can’t get distracted from doing that because it’s the one thing that might make this pain go away.]

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through

[(Pogtopia arc). Wilbur needs Tommy or Phil or hell, even Techno. He just needs someone. Someone to snap him from his intrusive mind. His thoughts that run rampant and scream at him to destroy everything. His plan that is both self-destructive and literally destructive that will leave everyone he cares about in shambles.

But he has no one. He can’t speak to Tommy without further scaring or hurting the boy. He refuses to write to Phil because he doesn’t even care (he wouldn’t come running to save his ‘son’ from himself). And Techno only supports the idea of destroying L’Manburg——he wouldn’t bother helping Wilbur with his problems.

Wilbur doesn’t know how to make the first move and let his guard down. (His mind briefly flashes to Eret and how much he used to trust the man. It was thrown away as soon as the Dream Team walked out of those walls though). That’s one of his last mistakes.]

Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence But here's a map, here's a shovel

[(At the beginning of L’Manburg and the drug van). This symbolizes Wilbur starting L’Manburg——starting a country from nothing but a van, his brother, and a crazy dream. He left his small childhood home behind––finally being able to breath in relief when he doesn’t have to relive all the times he and Phil had yelling matches when he walks through the kitchen, or to feel a bitter sadness remembering Tommy waking up screaming from nightmares and being the only one to console him whenever he passed the blond’s room. He can finally push the past behind and open up to people he cares about and trusts–– his friends and citizens.]

Here's my Achilles' heel

[(During L’Manburg when it was still a new country and they still wore soldier outfits). He soon realizes that L’Maburg is more than a country. It’s his home. It’s his family. His weakness. He cares about it because it’s the only place he could ever truly call his own. A small, nagging part of his brain whispers to him that if he’s not careful, it could be his downfall. He pays no mind though, because that seems so unlikely. He’s happier than he’s ever been and he won’t let intrusive thoughts ruin in]

I'm all in, palms out I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

[(Pogtopia arc). It dawns on Wilbur that L’Manburg has not been his downfall yet. Sure, he’s exiled, but he always imagined his downfall would be dying for his country. His country still lives though and he is not dead. Instead, the game is still on. His Achilles heel has not yet been struck. So maybe L’Maburg was not his Achilles heel all along? With that belief, Wilbur can’t help but still want L’Manburg back. He can’t push L’Manburg away when he’s trying so hard to get it back. He thinks maybe if he becomes president again and gets rid of Schlatt, his downfall would not come. He would be safe.]

I'ma shake the ground with all my might And I will pull my whole heart up to the surface For the innocent, for the vulnerable And I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose

[(Pogtopia/insanity arc). There’s still a possibility of L’Maburg being the end to Wilbur. With plans of war and overthrowing Schlatt, the thought is more prominent than ever. While Wilbur goes mad in Pogtopia, he’s quickly realizing that L’Manburg can’t be his Achilles heel if there is no L’Manburg. If he gets rid of L’Manburg, there will be no other problems. His symphony won’t be finished and therefore his Achilles heel will be protected.]

And I'll give all I have, I'll give my blood, give my sweat

[Oh but... but what if he is his own demise? L’Manburg was his. His dream. His home. He pushed everyone away for L’Manburg. He ignored his son, his brother, his best friend. Would it not make sense if he fell too? Should he not perish too? To let his brother rest? He knows the way they look at him——like he’s unstable, untrustworthy. Which he is. And Tommy... Tommy who still trusts him, who still looks at him like he could do no wrong, like he’s still a fearless leader. (He catches his small flinches though, the way he sometimes bites his tongue and hesitates before blurting out his words loudly, like usual). No matter how many times Wilbur hurts Tommy and tears him down, he’s always back——loyal and unwavering. Tommy did not deserve this. Tommy should be free. Wilbur cannot live in a world knowing Tommy is hurt because of him. Wilbur cannot see Tommy free with knowing what happened daily in that stupid, sold ravine. Wilbur cannot live and be anything to Tommy.]

An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again Invincible like I've never been

[Wilbur watches the leader who took his place, fall. He watches as his people cheer and fall over each other in exhaustion. Their wounds are deep, but smiles deeper. He elects Tommy, who in turn elects Tubbo (the discs again, when will it stop?) Wilbur listens to the man he once called father try to convince him not to destroy L’Manburg. He listens to the screeches of Withers and muffled cries of people.

It’s time.

Wilbur takes the arrow and strikes his Achilles heel.

He watches in twisted, painful satisfaction as his world blows up before him. People cry out for other reasons. They——especially Tommy——look at him in horror. But why does the arrow not kill him? Nothing else can hurt him like this does, right?

No, the wound is not deep enough. He is too happy to be injured like this for it to be fatal.

“Kill me” He begs. He thinks it’s good revenge on his father for being ignorant. And a good way for the arrow to strike him dead.

Philza stabs him.

The arrow in his heel digs deeper.

And then all is calm,]

----

[Also I feel like every one of those strong brassy bursts in the song is like a fist against the wall——Wilbur striking out against the walls of Pogtopia in anger and (self-)hatred and frustration.]

Hope you liked it. It was certainly an experience to write and I really enjoyed doing this

#character wilbur soot #wilbur soot #character tommyinnit #character wilbur soot analogy #character study #dream smp #mcyt #pogtopia #metaphor

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aureumjeon · 5 years

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tiptoed his way (m) || kth

pairing; taehyung x reader. genre; roommate!au; smut; fluff; angst. warnings; breaking and entering, unintended voyeurism, female masturbation, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex via doggy style, choking, tae suffers from MSS(Monster Schlong Syndrome lol), that’s about it. word count; 6.4K (unedited im sorry :()

summary; ➜ Taehyung found himself locked out of your shared home and there were only two options to successfully get inside. (1) Wake you up from your sleep and face the wrath that’ll follow, (2) Think like a burglar and enter through your window. (Un)fortunately for him, he picks the latter.

taglist; @bella-victoria002 @chaitaewithkookies @saddiesan @wehadnochoice @knjhe @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @livorna @taetaeobsessed @erisann @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @wickizer

a/n: the old gif doesnt work i dunno what i did wrong :(

“I’ll be out ‘til late, y/n! Don’t wait up for me.” Taehyung hollered while lacing his worn out white high-cut converse in the entryway. Hoping his voice would reach the end of the hallway where you were currently cooped in in your room.

“Alright! Stay safe!” Not bothering to leave your room, you answered back. Voice echoing through and bouncing off the dry walls. After waiting a few minutes, you heard the door slam shut with a thud. You cautiously tiptoed your way to the direction of your door, slightly opening the solid block of wood and peeking through the narrow crack you made. With no Taehyung in sight, you pumped your fist in the air and cheered victoriously. You finally have the house to yourself. You beamed with delight scurrying yourself over to the kitchen to make yourself a hot steaming bowl of instant ramen.

Taehyung and Jungkook had been your room mates since you can remember. It was freshman year of college, and you were looking for a cheap place to stay with the money you saved up working as a part-time student during your last year of highschool. A friend had introduced you to Jungkook, saying they needed one more person to split the bill with, broke college students need to support each other. At first you were hesitant, a girl living with two boys in a shared house wasn’t you initial plan but as the days go by since you first moved it, you got to know Taehyung and Jungkook a little more. Your friendship with them had gotten greater, the three of you were inseverable and you treasured them to bits!

Although in the four years you’ve been boarding together, every now and then they can really get on your nerves; letting the dirty dishes stack up at the sink until molds would flourish on the left over food; leaving the empty carton of milk in the fridge just as you’re planning to enjoy it with cereal or maybe a pack of Oreos; bags of chips and boxes of pizza scattered on all parts of the living room floor whenever they’d have movie night on Fridays with Jimin and Hoseok; and last but not least, the thing that they always do that grinds your gears the most, their dirty laundry in every corner, nook, and cranny of the house. Stinky socks, sweaty shirts, crusty jeans and even used underwear, you name it!

One time you had guests over; all girls might you add, studying for a group project in chemistry. Oh poor, sweet Yeri… Her unsullied innocence mercilessly corrupted by Jungkook’s disgusting underwear that had a suspicious dried up patch of white something on the crotch area of the small fabric. Yeri almost fainted when she pulled out the article of clothing from the kitchen caddy, flinging it across the room to where the other girls were. You scolded Jungkook the same day, advising him to keep all his stuff where it needed to be kept and on top of that to apologize to the poor girl he scarred for life. Which he did, and that’s the story of how Jungkook and Yeri’s relationship began. Who knew, right?

Taehyung was like Jungkook at first, but somehow he decided to stay under your radar as best as he could. Once you lectured him on something he’s done wrong inside the quarters of your home, he’d make it a point to engrave it on the back of his head. He has his fuck ups every now and then, but nothing too consequential. There was one time though, and you wish you could forget, that he brought a girl home which wasn’t against the house rules. Jungkook had brought Yeri numerous times and you, yourself, had your fair share of men visiting the house, specifically your room. It was s well established etiquette to keep the ruckus down since you we’re sharing this living space between the three of you. But during that critical time, which you’ve spoken to Taehyung and Jungkook beforehand never lacking to remind them on multiple occasions throughout that day. Telling them to please keep the noise to a minimum because you'll be revising for for a major exam that was equivalent to forty percent of your total grade. Somehow, Taehyung managed to forget your simple and completely doable request. With the paper thin walls between you and the absence of soundproofing, you were able to get every moan, groan and mewl that came from Taehyung’s rooms adjacent to yours. That bastard is so dead was the sole thing on your mind right now and not the words inscribed in the textbook that you’ve read over for the tenth time that night. The morning after that horrendous night of not getting anything done, you waited irksomely in the common room for taehyung and his date to emerge from his chambers.

“Y/n, y-you’re up early.” He gulped, taking in your appearance. Your gaze was piercing especially with the huge dark bags under your eyes. “I’ll take Minju ho--”

“I’m sure she knows here way back.” You cut him off with a bark in your tone, “Can’t you, Minju?” Your focus was now directed at her and she was quivering under your constant scrutiny.“Y-yes,” She clutched on her designer handbag bowed nervously before fleeing the place like a prey encountering it’s predator.

“I asked you for one thing, Taehyung, one thing.” You lowered your head and massaged your aching temples with your fingers, placating your exasperation towards the boy who was placed in the hot seat. “You knew I was studying tonight, Tae.” The timbre of your voice wasn’t sickeningly livid anymore. From spiking up to a hundred degrees in the last two minutes, it dropped down to a negative ten. “This test is worth forty percent of my grade, I told you that. This is the first time I requested you to do something for me...” You shut your eyes close and drew out a long sigh before standing up and intending to head back to your room. “If I fail this test, I want to let you know it’s on you, Tae.” His features were extremely devastated and disheartened, not because of the things you just said but because of how he had forgotten all about it.

You inconspicuously peered back at him and the look on his face says it all. A helpless puppy abandoned by its human, that’s what he resembled most at this moment. Big glassy eyes, a wet nose and pouty lips. Okay, that was kind of a mean thing to say, you thought. But you never failed to remind him, always opening up and squeezing in the topic during the mundane conversations you shared together. After one last disappointed sigh, you looked up the clock, 6:55 am. “Anyway, I still have three more hours before the test. I’ll be in my room.” You turned your back on him and proceeded to take a few steps forward before saying one last thing to him, “Please, please, please. Don’t bother me.” You were on your way back down the hall, nothing will stop you from cramming seven chapters of lesson into your brain in less than three hours in one sitting.

“Sorry, Y/n.”

Sorry ain't gonna cut it, chief.

Its as if Taehyung was able to read your mind, “ I’ll- I’ll be on bathroom duty. For two, no, four weeks. Yeah, yeah. One month of bathroom duty, Y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget.”

You glanced over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of Taehyung with his hands clasped together, his facial expression pleading for forgiveness. You knew he was really sorry. Why? Because nobody liked bathroom duty, not even you.

“That seems fair to you, kook?” You spontaneously asked, making Taehyung scan the living room area. Glass started clattering in the kitchen and your doe-eyed bunny-boy of a roommate came hopping in. Taehyung was seeking compassion from his long-time comrade. Maybe shortening his time on bathroom duties or lending him a helping hand at least. Bros before hoes, right? “For the record.” Jungkook started, taking a sip from the cold banana milk bottle in his hand. “You kept me up, too. And I have football practice at eight.” He shrugged his shoulders casually before hiding back in his man cave. “Have fun cleaning, Tae.”

Your chiding was for everyone’s best interest, may this incident serve as a lesson of respecting other people who also lives in this household. Although there was one thing you were still unsure about. After that episode, Taehyung has never set foot in the premises with a woman draped around his arm again. You hoped you did not terminate his hopes of getting a love life.

In conclusion, they’re just a bunch of stupid college boys wanting to survive this hell hole, what do you expect? So, having the house to yourself was a once in a blue moon moment you’d never take for granted.

It was two in the morning, and Taehyung was stupidly perched at the doorstep patting his pockets for what seemed like the tenth time in the last ten minutes searching for his keys. "Shit." He grumbled under his breath, taking out his phone from his back pocket and calling up Jungkook's number. After the third try, he finally answered the call.

"H-hey, what's up? I love you and all that shit but why are you calling at two in the fucking morning?" The voice is the other line was dry and scratchy.

"Ah," Taehyung felt apologetic for waking up the Jungkook but he absolutely needed help, "Sorry for bothering you, Kook. Do you happen to know where the spare key is? Left my copy in my room before I went out and now I'm locked out of the house," He laughed embarrassingly, attempting to check his pockets one more time before calling it quits, wishing his keys would magically turn up in one of them.

"Taehyung…" The line suddenly went silent, it was a good fifteen seconds before Jungkook went on speaking,"Didn't I tell you that I'm holding onto the spare key to have it duplicated since my I lost my copy?"

There it was again, complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for irregular breathing coming from the other line, Jungkook would've guessed Taehyung had dropped the call already.

"Just wake up y/n, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Jungkook suggested, that was probably the best route to take.

"No bro," Taehyung's tone was unnaturally dark and empty.

"Can I ask why?"

"L-Last time I locked myself out and woke up y/n," he choked on his series of words, recalling the traumatic event that occurred in the past. "She made me wait a whole hour before opening the door. While I was waiting out in the cold, y/n cooked bacon and pancakes at midnight just to spite me. The smell of the food made my stomach flip and growl. When she finally let me in, she ate it all by herself while looking me straight in the eye."

Jungkook on the other line laughed uproariously at Taehyung's untold story, "Remind me not to get on Y/n's bad side. But in all seriousness, how are you planning to get inside the house?" He queried the boy who was stuck in an unfortunate predicament."I don't get back til' Sunday. And it's only Friday."

Taehyung's eyes lit up like those light bulbs in cartoons when the characters gets a genius idea. "Is your room the one without the safety locks on the window?"

"One, no. My windows have safety locks. Y/n's window is the one without it. And two, that's a really bad Idea, Tae."

"What's a bad idea, babe?" Taehyung indistinctly overhears a hushed voice in the background. His conversation with Jungkook probably woke up Yeri too. "Oh, Taehyung's planning to enter through y/n window to get into the house." Jungkook made sure that taehyung was hearing what Yeri had to say, since she's been friends with y/n just as long as them. Her giggles were so innocent, akin to a baby but the words she said were the exact opposite. "That is a stupid idea, unless Taehyung wants to be hit on the head with a metal baseball bat and bleed to death."

"Yeri said that that's a stupid idea unless you--"

"I heard what she said. And I won't even make a sound! I'll tiptoe my way through her window and out of her room in a flash! That way I'll be in the house and won't have to wake up y/n! I see this as an absolute win." Taehyung broadcasted triumphantly like he had discovered the map to the lost City of Atlantis.

Yeri snatched the phone from her boyfriend's hand and lectured Taehyung y/n style. "Tae, this isn't the time to be quoting the Incredible Hulk when you're the one who's gonna be beaten to a pulp when y/n wakes up and mistakes you for a burglar. Just wake up y/n and ask her to open up the door for you. It can't be that bad, you'd live a longer life that way. Face the consequences of being a pee-brain."

"Nope," It seemed like Taehyung had made up his mind, and when Taehyung makes up his mind, there's no point in stopping him.

"Ahhh, tell your friend good luck. I'm going back to sleep." Yeri gave back the phone to her boyfriend. "You have our regards. If you don't die, call me back in the morning." A loud yawn can be heard from Jungkook's end as he hangs up.

And that's Taehyung's go signal.

He stealthily made his way round the perimeter of the house to the side where your room was located "Bingo." He mused as he spotted your window, slightly left ajar. He strategically maneuvered his way across the flower bed embedded on the ground, calculating his steps accurately not wanting to step on your precious roses and daffodils. He knows he can't lie to you, if asked who trampled on your bloom, he'd rat himself out in a blink of an eye. He'd like to enjoy a long flourishing life. Grow old, get married and possibly have kids and grandkids.

Not like what he's about to commit will spare his life either way.

Even with the lack of light and the gauzy material of the curtain, his eyes could make up your vague figure on the bed, tossing and shifting your legs about. Must be some crazy dream you're having, he thought. Though he can't get a clear view of you, he's certain you were there.

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed the unlocked window wider just enough so that he can slither his body inside, dragging the curtain along with it. He prayed to the heavens above that the hinges doesn't make a sound, not even a tiny squeak or his head will be the one hanging from the valances.

With his hands securely clasped on the window sill, he utilized his upper body strength to propel himself up until his knees were secured on the narrow wooden surface. "Phew" he shakily exhaled, switching from his current kneeling position to a crouching one, gaining more balance for his following steps.

Before fully entering your room now that he had obtained a better view, he decided to take a proper look at your charming unconscious face. Wait, scratch that, that didn’t come out right. What he meant to conclude was…

When Jungkook first introduced you to him as their new flatmate, he couldn’t help but be blown away. He was thunderstruck when he was graced by your overwhelming presence. Soft silky hair that he’d like to get bury his face in, letting the scent of your shampoo take over his senses; Round bright eyes that somehow carried the countless stars and galaxies, he’d willingly surrender himself just to get lost in them. A lovely button nose that scrunched up when you smiled and introduced yourself for the first time. “I’m Y/n, nice to finally meet you Taehyung.” he remembered clearly, god, how can he forget. Your soft-spoken voice perfectly fitted your delicate face. It was love at first sight, what else could it be? He fell for you hook, line and sinker.

He covertly watched over you, not in the stalker-ish way, of course. Whenever you’re lounging around in your favorite pajamas or simply tidying up the house, he’d inevitably find a small smile creep up on his lips. Even just knowing that you’re inside the house when he comes home from the university by the way your favourite music was blaring from your room made him happy. He learned along the way that you were really introverted, spending most of your weekends at home reading your favourite novels and choosing to withdraw yourself from the generic college scene. Opting for a movie night date with your friends rather than partying at some musty frat house. Moreover, you didn’t strike up any conversation with him or Jungkook unless it was about the house or if it was that important to talk about. Unbeknownst to you, all the things you detested like unwashed dishes or misplaced dirty laundry, he did it on purpose just to get the attention he craved from you. Sometimes he felt guilty at the way he acted whenever you were around, a pout or two on your upset face.

But he came to the point that he was tired of hiding and playing safe behind that thin line called “Friendship.”If he wasn’t gonna man-up and take action, nothing’s gonna change. So on your twentieth birthday, that’s when he decided he wanted to confess his love for you, hoping that the unrequited becomes requited. He bought a cake and decorated the whole house with a banner, balloons and streamers. He even paid Jungkook fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut about it.

What happened after was far from his or Jungkook's expectations. You came home from a date. A date which none of them knew about but here you were, wide eyed and jubilant to see the simple surprise party your dear roommates took the time to prepare for you. You introduced the boy standing next to you as your boyfriend. "Boyfriend" that word stung like a bitch.

It was then that he decided to put an end to this one-sided pinning that has been going on for quite some time now that hasn't bloomed into anything, not even a tiny sprout. If the stars were aligning and the universe was really on his side, he would have been your boyfriend by the end of the day, not some guy named Lucas.

Every other night he'd return with a girl to his room for nothing more than a quick fuck, never meeting with them for a second time. He thought it was something that would dull the agonizing throb in his chest, it worked for the most part. The bodily pleasure those women brought him made him forget momentarily about everything he's ever felt for you. He thought it was only a matter of time until all the feelings he'd kept would dissipate into thin air.

Minju, he recalled. A girl who was just as perfect as you in his eyes, well almost. With the thought of taking Minju home and having her all to himself as a priority in his mind, he got carried away and overlooked one critical thing you asked of him which was on top of that a principal house rule the three of you agreed on. "Always keep the noise to a minimum."

He knew he fucked up the moment he spots you sitting on the couch glaring at him as he and Minju walked out of his room. He saw the look of disappointment etched on your face at how he had let you down and recognized how bad he fucked up. He thought that you’d never forgive him and end up hating him for the rest of his life, but you always kept proving him wrong. A familiar box was atop the center island with a pink sticky note attached to it.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you, Tae. It was probably the stress talking. Btw, I passed aced the exam! Hehe. <3 y/n.”

That was when he realized he truly did not deserve you.

His profound daydreaming was put to a halt when he heard a hushed moan originate from your direction. His jaw almost unhinged at how low and wide it was hanging from his face at the sight he has failed to notice prior to entering your room. A convoluted expression was apparent on your face, with your brows knitted together, and eyes shut tight, upper teeth frustratingly nibbling at your bottom lip. Your left hand hidden under the sheer fabric of your shirt, kneading at your mound lavishly while the fingers on your other hand were tirelessly circling around the glistening flesh between you spread legs. You weren’t sleeping, you were masturbating!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gotta get out. Gotta get out. Gotta get--

His whole life flashed before his eyes as he witnessed the mason jar you used as a flower pot unexpectedly gets knocked over by his rogue foot, emanating in a clangorous noise as it hit the seat of your metal chair tucked under your desk. There were numerous circumstances that he wished he could get out of certain situations unscathed, which as luck would have it he did. This one? Not so much as your instincts urged you to direct your attention to where the abrupt sound came from. He saw your bewildered eyes staring at his squatting figure by your window.

Taehyung quickly slammed his palms over his face concealing his eyes while blindly steering his body farther into your room, knocking over your other stuff in the process. As his feet finally met solid ground, it was now time to plead for his life. “Y/n! Shit! I-I can e-explain. I l-left my keys! A-and I didn't want to wake you up. I didn't mean seeing that!" He heard the sound of his rapid heart beat resonate in his ears, ringing so loudly that he couldn't even hear himself think.

You found his flustered stuttering adorable and endearing. You weren't angry and knew he was telling the truth. Taehyung, no matter how brazen and badly behaved he was, has not ever lied to you. You can take his word for this one but a little teasing hasn't killed anyone. “Never perceived you as the peeping type, Tae."

"I swear, I'm not!" His cheeks started burning red, the scorching heat of embarrassment crawling up to his ears and down his neck.

You didn't answer him right away, and all he could make up with his vision temporarily impaired was the shuffling sound of your bedding and the indistinct footsteps walking towards him. "Well since you're here, might as well help your roommate out." You whispered suggestively in his ear, and he felt his jeans grow a little tighter by the crotch.

You pressed your body against his until the corner of your desk was painfully digging into his back. "What do you say, Tae?"

"I-I don't think this is right." He respired weakly, his knees were starting to buckle at the figurative weight weighing down on his shoulders with palms still stuck to his eyes.

"Wanna know what I think." You purred salaciously, the tip of your pointer finger lightly tracing over the skin of his clavicle. "I don't think this is a question of what's right and wrong," Your hand started to head south, stopping precisely at his sternum, your fingers drawing small figure eights over it. "I'm single, your single."You further proved your claim, hand once again dropping lower. Taehyung wasn't much of a gym rat like Jungkook or Jimin so he didn't have any abs. But you still appreciated his body nonetheless, especially paired with his remarkably attractive face. "I see this as a question of want and don't want. And judging from this," without warning, you cupped the hard-on he was sporting. Waves of electricity surged through his blood vessel, every cell in his body had doubled its working pace. "You want this as much as I do." Slowly, you palmed him through his jeans, fingers molding the curve of his clothed dick. His heart rate spiked and breathing got more labored with your words and actions.

He wanted to see you. He wanted to remove his hand from his face and see how the moonlight shining through your window illuminated your appearance, enhancing your elegant features tenfold but he was terrified that this will lead to something that will eventually ruin your friendship.

"Taehyung..." You whimpered, starting to feel impatient. "Say something. Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop, please just say something."

"I-I," Fuck it, he thought. He detached his hands from his eyes and encased it around your petite torso, finally giving in to the treacherous temptation that is you. "I want you, y/n." He dipped his face in the curve of your neck, filling himself up with the sweet scent of you. "I've wanted you for the longest time, y/n." His voice was guttural and strained, he'd never thought the time of him finally confessing to you would come. It required him every tendril of his being to finally come clean. An abandoned door that was once locked has instantly been pushed open, and his desire for you has never been more ardent.

"I want you too, Tae."

Moments later you've found yourselves entangled within each other's embrace, caught in a sweltering and heart racing make out session. Every brush of lips and prod of tongue was burning of lust and passion. The way your fingers intertwined with his and filling its spaces perfectly like the final piece of an unfinished puzzle. It felt so natural, the way the rise and fall of your breathing and the tempo of your pulses fell in sync. It felt like something that should've been done ages ago but was hindered by something unforeseen.

As he hovered above your frame, you couldn't help but be drawn in the boundless sea of his deep hazel eyes. Wisp of his curled lashes resting prettily on his eyelids, the tip of his pointed nose dusted a shade of baby pink and lips pursed into a gentle smile. He observed you with hooded eyes as you absentmindedly stared at his face. You couldn't comprehend how a mere human can bear this much beauty and elegance in his mortal body, even the gods would seethe in jealousy at his splendor.

"T-tae. I want to feel your dick down my throat." You professed bashfully, marvelling at his beauty can wait. Right now there was one thing you fervently wish for, him and his entirety.

Your bluntness was always one of his favourite traits of yours. "I'm all yours." He replied, placing an affectionate kiss on your lips.

"Stand at the edge of the bed." You instructed, going on all fours and crawling your way to the same spot. "C'mon!"

Taehyung with arched brows headed to where you wanted him, planting his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. "Okay, now what?"

"I've always wanted to try like this." You pressed on, lying on your back with your head almost hanging off the edge of the bed, slightly propping it up with a small pillow. Taehyung was caught off guard with your new position, “Y/n, what are you doing?” He queried with an arch of his brows.

“I’m ready to take your dick.” You seemed determined, sweeping your loosened hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears. “Saw this in porn before and I’ve been itching to try it out.

You just kept pulling out tricks from your sleeve, Taehyung never imagined you to be the type who watches porn. “You watch porn?” He incredulously questioned eyes going wide that hinted inquisitiveness.

“Oh please, I am a human being. Stop looking at me like I’m some saint. I can watch adult videos whenever I want to.”

“Fair enough,” He acknowledged while unbuckling his belt, revealing the stiff bulge tucked in his boxer. He tugged the garterized hem of his underwear down and allowed his member to spring free.

You were genuinely astounded with his impressive size and girth, tip red and already leaking pre-cum. “From all the years we’ve been living together, I kinda expected you were big, but not this big. Didn’t know you were suffering from MSS.”

“MSS?” he eyed you outlandishly, having no idea what you were talking about.

“Monster Schlong Syndrome.” You answered as you tried suppressing the mischievous smile forcing its way onto your lips.

“Shut up, Y/n.” Taehyung’s cheeks grew rosier at your compliment about his dick, but he still preferred being humble about his size even when he was with other girls.

“Make me,” You provoked him, opening your mouth fully and sticking out your tongue. Feeling rather wolfish to have him in your mouth.

“Are you sure about this?” He queried you one last time, making sure you were a hundred percent okay with this. “I’m the one beginning to feel uncomfortable with your position.”

“I’m fine, Tae. I want this.”

He couldn’t help stroking himself while taking in the image of you sprawled on the bed eyes totally blown-out. Begging and lusting over his cock. Taehyung gently tapped his length on your cheek,causing a smirk to form on your lips. “Stopped teasing,” You wailed vexingly, growing eager by the second. You tossed your head back even further while opening your mouth much wider, giving Taehyung a greater angle.

“You ready, baby?” His already deep voice dropped an octave lower, a sultry and sickeningly honeyed tone slathered all over his words. You crossed your legs together feeling the steamy heat pool between them as you nod fervently.

Unhurriedly, Taehyung pushed the tip of his cock past your lips. The warmth and wetness of your mouth elicited a satisfied groan from him. He pushed even further down your throat, sheathing himself completely and noticing how tight the space has gotten as he descends. “Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good,” he euphorically moaned seeing how your pretty mouth is stretched by his thick cock.

You blissfully purred at his praise, and the vibrations of your throat around his member sent a chill down his spine. “I-I’ll start moving, okay.” He choked on his word, his senses brimming over with the buzz of pleasure. At a leisurely pace, he began gliding his dick in and out of your hot cavern, hearing lewd squelching sounds with every push. “Shit,” He rasped when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Your mouth is the best, baby.” He quickened the speed of his thrusts, savouring the constricted hold you’ve got on him. Tears started to pool at the corners of your eyes as your mouth was bombarded with the repetitive jabbing motion. You’ve never felt this full before, the way he has you gorged put you in a state of pure ecstasy.

Taehyung shifted his veiny hand to caress your face, wiping away the wetness from your corners of your eyes. With his balls slapping right into your face, you failed to capture his pupils dilate and the concupiscent glint in his dark orbs. His hand found its way at the base of your neck, favouring the tug of the skin, muscles and bones outlined beneath the surface. His slender, bony fingers spread across the expanses of your neck, petting the strained muscle domestically. His digits started to curl around the base, the blunt of his fingernails digging into your skin and you felt the restriction of air affect your lungs.

Taehyung knew you were enjoying this as much as he was even with you gagging and choking on his dick. He exerted more pressure on your jugular, and you felt your body sink further into the mattress. He thwarted his hips into you once more, deeper than before as his wanton howls reverberated inside your room. Before he could blow his load in your mouth, he stopped himself and pulled out his swollen cock coated with your spit.

You opened your eyes and griped at the sudden sensation of barrenness, "W-why'd you stop?" You felt light headed, your body eventually recognized the lack of oxygen you underwent. Your chest hurriedly heaved up and down as you were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath.

"This is my first time fucking you, the only place I'll be cumming in right now is your pussy." Taehyung wickedly grinned, looping his arms behind your neck and knees and carried you bridal style. He walked over the side and carefully lowered you on the bed, head snuggly resting on the pillow leaned on the headboard. He made his way back to the foot of the bed, taking a seat directly in front of your bare core. "Since I interrupted you earlier," his hands began stroking you calf, tiny goosebumps springing up from his touch. "Let me make it up to you and make you feel better than those little fingers of yours."

You detected a hint of embarrassment as Taehyung's gaze focuses on you already seeping sex. He began crawling closer to you core, tipping in to pepper kisses on your inner thighs. As his warm breath began rousing over your skin, you couldn't help but clench around nothingness at the level of arousal you were experiencing. "What were you thinking about when you were pleasuring yourself?" He cooed the question out before licking a wet stripe along your moistened slit. His tongue was dancing in his mouth after finally acquiring a taste of your delectable nectar. "I-I was thinking about you, Tae." You answered weakly, the pad of his thumb now circling your sensitive nub. He hummed in approval at you words, his tongue was the one promptly to devote its undivided attention to you bundle of nerves. "What was I doing then?"

You released a long exhale when you felt Taehyung slip on of his slender fingers inside your hole. "I-I thought about how you'd fuck me with your huge cock," You admitted, shutting your eyes as he twirls his finger inside you. He inserted another digit, and it got you tossing your head back in fervor. "How you'd make me cum so hard.”Your eyes reeled back at the back of your head as another finger slips into you with such ease.

“You’re soaking wet, y/n.” he was prideful of how you’ve become putty under his ministrations, “And all for me.” He sloped down once more and flicked your clit with his wet muscles at an excruciating pace. You started feeling yourself clench around his digits, “W-wait.” You intervened, not wanting to release just yet. “I want to cum with you.”

He devilishly grinned from ear to ear and flipped your body over, your knees and palm bearing the weight of your exhausted body. “Wanna hit you from the back so bad.”

You lowered your torso and arched your back inwards, excessively sticking your ass up on full display. Taehyung smeared the accumulated pre-cum on the tip of his cock all over his length, painting it with the lubricating substance. He aligned himself with your entrance and gingerly drove his hips forward until he bottomed out. “Fuck, y/n. You’re cunt’s even tighter than your pretty mouth.” the interior walls of your vagina squeezed at his member, accommodating his length incomparably. “Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

As much as you fancied him to rant about how amazing your pussy was, you wished he’d just shut up and pound you into oblivion and put an end to the tormenting ache bubbling inside you. “Move.” You sought, pushing your rear end against him hard and coaxing him to ultimately move.

His knuckles were turning white at how tight he’s gripping onto the curve of your hips, nails engraving small crescent-shaped marks on your skin. Without warning, he launched the onslaught of the brute ramming of his dick into you. Each thrust he bore were insanely crisp and accurate, striking your sweet spot with every jab. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your heavy breathes were the only tunes filling the silent space of your room. Taehyung pulled out his length almost completely, appreciating how coated and soaked it was with your juices, awakening another entire level of his vehement lust for you. He slammed himself back into your tight slit, clenching his buttocks and rutting his pelvis at an inhuman speed.

“I’m so close, Taehyung.” You wailed sinfully with a high-pitched strain to your voice, aware at how every muscle in your body is tensing up.

“Me too, baby.” He unexpectedly towed you by your hair until your back collided with his chest. His hand located your neck yet again, wrapping his digits around it and cutting your intake of air. You swear that at the end of this, your neck would be sore, purple and bruised because of how robust he retains his grip on you. At this point, his movements began getting sloppier and imprecise, suggesting he was at last getting to his most sought-after high. His idle hand shakily made its way to your almost forgotten clit, ruthlessly rubbing at it with the pad of his fore and middle finger continuously until you were convulsing around his cock and milking him down to the last drop. Both of your body collapsed on your bed, utterly breathless.

“Wow.” Taehyung managed to breath out.

“Yeah, wow.” You repeat, steadying your breathing. “What happens now?” You awkwardly asked, staring at the blank ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in your room.

“Wanna go on a date?” His voice was filled with reluctance, the thrumming in his chest never calming down. Now wasn't the perfect time to ask you that kind of question. So he braced himself as he waited for your answer.

You turned your head in his direction and looked at how the light from the now open window magically outlined his enchanting profile. “You’re way out of order but I’d love too.”

Taehyung's obnoxious ringtone Disturbed the silence of your sleep.

"Your phone is ringing." You grumbled, t

"Yo, Tae, glad to hear you're still alive. Got into the house yet?"

"Yeah," He paused, looking at you. "Got into y/n pants as well."

#taehyung x reader #ksmutclub #btsguild #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung oneshot #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #kpop smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #bts dark moodboard

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eldritchdraaks · 3 years

Photo

Here is a more comprehensive explanation of this whole anime pilot dream I had, but without the frantic writings of a man who just woke up from said dream.

(If you didn’t see the last post, I had a very vivid dream about a short anime pilot and I’ve been hyper-fixated since.)

The world is close to your average modern setting seen in most down to earth anime, but with a BNA, Beastars, Amazing World of Gumball kind of spin to it. Plenty of humans, plenty of other creatures that share ancestry with flora and fauna of earth, and even some robots, but nothing is of the supernatural. things are about as peaceful as regular earth, so yeah there is racism, but it's not the theme being explored here. Other similar settings have done the racism theme better. This is more in line with a happier District 9. A more specific city setting would be like a gentrified urban downtown.

The main character whom I've dubbed Bug Guy since my dream didn't come with any names, starts out as human. You never get a good look at what Bug Guy looks like before his transformation. It's always back of the head or neck down shots of him, but you know he's human, there's no doubt about it. He has no family, no friends, and hardly any social life. His only drive is pursuing his career in music. His talent is EDM, because why not. He has a laptop with all his tech on it. Despite being a loner, he knows he must branch out and collaborate to get his name out there and start making profits. There's a local studio he wants to hit up where a Music Group of a few young twenty somethings often hangout and record, as well as take lessons and give them. It's whatever floats down there.

The leader of this group is a tall blonde girl, white or white passing. She wears a red visor and her hair in a ponytail from the top of her head, and it sticks up like a paint brush. She wears a white button up polo, plaid-patched black jeans, and has a guitar case over her shoulder, since she plays guitar.

His encounter with the Mafia-type group is a wrong place, wrong time scenario. After a good first impression down at the studio and introducing himself to the Music Group, Bug Guy takes a train to a darker part of the city to visit his favorite café. It's not much but he likes how quiet and empty it usually is during certain hours. However he doesn't make it to the café. Mafia is doing a heist and they derail the train in order to crash it into a building as it’s passing. Might be a bank or lab or government facility, that's undecided, but the people are the train who survive the crash need to be disposed of, since they were witnesses.

Now, the Mafia group (dubbed Bug Mafia by one of my friends) is just a group of shady people, like the evil teams from Pokémon. They're doing some shady shit and they can't have any witnesses or otherwise getting in the way. I'm not entirely sure why or how, but the best way to achieve this goal is to transform Bug Guy into a strange bug thing not based on a specific insect. Alternatively, it's a made up rare species.

The reason he can be transformed is because all non-human people are humanoid, and thus have DNA relating to humans. So, a human's DNA can be altered to become a creature. Yep, that's my reasoning; Deal with it.

Mafia don't really care how they get rid of the witnesses, and changing Bug Guy into a bug was probably just incidental, something related to their work or the heist and they think it worked out in their favor. Probably think they killed a human and there was an unrelated bug person looking 'dead' on the ground. Whatever the case, Bug Guy remembers nothing about the crash or what came after.

Bug Guy wakes up in the morgue because bug people are notoriously difficult to declare alive or dead, maybe. IDK anything about insects. His realization/freak-out doesn't come ‘til he gets home, because nothing about his situation sets in until he can see himself in the mirror. However he doesn't believe he's doomed or his life is over. He gets over it fairly quickly and chooses to resign himself to this fate. His partial amnesia isn't helping either, because at times he's not sure if he ever was a human. Are his memories lying to him? Looking at old pictures helps, but they always include his family and friends, and it just makes him hurt. He's pretty sure he was human, but he always needs to be reminded, grounded to reality.

So from there on he tries to live his life as normally as he did, dressing the same, acting the same, etc. of course after a few days he'd figure out his anatomy is all different, he needs different hygiene routines, and a new nutritional diet. He's been getting sick from eating the same old food he always used to.

Bug Guy goes to the studio, gets some strange looks, and meets with the Music Group. They don't recognize him, and there's a back and forth of misunderstandings before Bug Guy uses his one braincell to tell them that he is the guy from before. The group, notably the leader, are stunned. From there the Music Group pledge to help him get through his current crisis, even though he doesn't want any help. But nah, they want to help and that's how they make him their friend. Bug Guy learns to open up again and appreciate having people in his life again. They help him find out what happened to him and go up against Mafia and that's kind of all I have.

By the end, Bug Guy is DEFINITLY stuck as a bug, but it would be built up enough that you'd think he'd get his human form back, only for hope to be ripped away at the end. Coming to terms that he would be a bug for the rest of his life is a good way for him to close the chapter on the old him, the loner that cut himself off from everyone when his family died. He's a new person now.

And he vapes sugar water!

#bug #insect #anthro #dream #world building #pilot #ama #ideas #plot #friends #hyperfixation

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an-angels-blessing · 3 years

Text

Song Prompts #1

“Will nature make a man of me yet?”- The Smiths, This Charming Man

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”- Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.”- Hozier, Work Song

“I don’t think that we should be alone together, when we’re in a room you get my eyes, you open your mouth I’m hypnotised”- The Neighbourhood, Single

“She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me and suddenly the sky is a scissor”- Arctic Monkeys, That’s where you’re wrong

“You think you want to be alone, just wait until you’re crying on the shower floor”

“They’ve got a pretty face, but they’ve got a pretty empty head.”

“But how the hell do you fall in love, the last time I checked you can’t fall in slow mo”- LANY- The Breakup *There were too many good ones in this song, I couldn’t help myself*

“I know it’s mad, but if I go to hell will you go with me or just leave?” - Panic! At The Disco, Do you know what I’m seeing?

“I don’t know who’s protecting me, but we hit it off”- Drake, Sandra’s Rose

“Do me a favour and break my nose, do me a favour and tell me to go away?”- Arctic monkeys, Do me a favour

“Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more”- The Neighbourhood, Baby came home

“Just one mistake, you say you’re not in love no more, but was it really love if you can leave me for something so innocent is this the end?”- LANY, Thick and thin

“You can have Manhattan, I know it’s for the best, I’ll gather up the avenues and leave them on your doorstep. I’ll tiptoe away so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.”

“You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share, the one where we were laughing and drunk on just being there. Hang onto the reverie, could you do that for me?”- Sara Bareilles, Manhattan

“You don’t love me, big fucking deal, I’ll never tell you how I feel.”

“I’ll send my best regards from Hell”- Marina and the Diamonds, Starring Role

“Change lives, get better, yeah that be the plan”

“That’s why you see me winning, yeah, even after I lose”- Jay Park, Ask bout me

“Love is not looking over shoulders, Love is you should trust what I told you”

“Love is not struggling to say I love you”- 6LACK, Disconnect

“All these people taking miles when you give them an inch, all these followers but who’s gonna follow me until the end?”- Drake, Emotionless

“Sex by the fire at night”- Bruno Mars, That’s What I Like

“I’ve got the good side of you, sent it out into the blue.”- Troye Sivan, Good Side

“It all passes, Someday, For sure, Certainly”- RM, ft. NELL, everythingoes *Translated*

“Please stay as long as you need, can’t promise that things won’t be broken, but I swear that I will never leave. Please stay forever with me”- Sleeping With Sirens, Scene One- James Dean & Audrey Hepburn

“When you move, I’m put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move

I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“Wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?”- Billie Eilish, come out and play

“Am I a bad person? Or am I just in pain?”- DEAN, Sulli, Rad Museum, Dayfly *Translated*

“When the sun sets and darkness comes, I only remember your warmth, where the stars wrap around us. I’m going there, I’ll be there”- SEVENTEEN, Highlight *Translated*

“I don’t ever wanna feel like anything I do ever had a fucking resonance or meant a thing to you.”- Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, I Hate You

“You can’t take this away from me, the way I hit the melody, the waves bring clarity, running through me”- Tom Misch, Del La Soul, It Runs Through Me

“It was a lie when they smiled and said you won’t feel a thing”- My Chemical Romance, Disenchanted

“The fog has lifted and things get clear, all the lies pass by like a reel of film. I hate you”- EXO, 내가 미쳐 (Going Crazy) *Translated*

“I’m sorry- no, I’m not sorry, I’m just getting started and my life’s a party”- DEAN, Eric Bellinger, I’m Not Sorry

“Ain’t it fun, living in the real world?”- Paramore, Ain’t It Fun

“Ready or not, we are coming back- yeah, we’re over, we can tell you ‘bout what you need. You can look it up when you’re older”- Evergreen, Cargo Cult

“You, you got so much potential, every moment spent with you I bet was always eventful”- Aminé, Kehlani, Heebiejeebies- Bonus

“Could you imagine the taste of your lips if we never tried to kiss on the drive to Queens? ‘Cause I imagine the weight of your ribs if you lied between my hips in the backseat”- Halsey, Roman Holiday

“Forever isn’t for everyone, is forever for you?”- Arctic Monkeys, Snap Out Of It

“Wish you good luck being lonely, I’mma push red every time you phone me. You vow to be a memory”- Ella Mai, ft. Ty Dolla $ign, She Don’t

“I’ve been dazed and confused from the day I met you, yeah I lost my head and I’d do it again”- Ruel, Dazed & Confused

“I just want you closer, is that alright? Baby let’s get closer tonight”- Paolo Nutini, Last request

“You have no idea how pretty you are when you wake from sleep, you have no idea how beautiful you look as you get ready for bed”- Zion.T, No Makeup *Translated*

“I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight, baby, ‘cos I can’t get you off my mind”- Shawn Mendes, Lost In Japan

“She’s soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand, she takes care of me, baby, she helps me be a better man. She’s so beautiful, sometimes I stop to close my eyes, she’s exactly what I need”- Jeremy Passion, Lemonade

“And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place”- Arctic Monkeys, Arabella

“It’s how you look, not how you feel. A city of glass with no heart”- Queens of the Stone Age, If I Had a Tail

“I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife”- Hozier, Take Me To Church

“Bitter and hardened heart, Oh, aching- waiting for life to start”- Keane, Bend & Break

“When you move I’m put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“She said, ‘Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love, 'cause what if it’s not reciprocated?’ I told her, ‘Don’t rush girl, don’t you rush, guess it’s all a game of patience.’”- Pink Sweat$, Honesty

“Share a casket with you, we’ll be buried alive, me and her playing truth ‘til the day we die.”- Granata Ft. Phoniks, You Dont Need Me

“And hope that I had survived yesterday, and today is jealous of tomorrow.”- Emeli Sandé, Breathing Underwater

“Heaven if you sent us down so we could build a playground for the sinners to play as saints, you’d be so proud of what we’ve made.” Stephen, Crossfire

“Tell me how do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night? How do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night?”- blackbear, make daddy proud

“If anyone looks perfect, you look perfect next to me.”- Nick Wilson, Obsolete

“I need my sex n’ drugs, I need my money first, bless me with all my sins.”- Abhi The Nomad, Ft. Harrison Sands & Copper King, Sex ‘n Drugs

“Naked and fallin’ in love, look here I got you. Safe where there’s no one to judge, keep it insightful.”- Keiynan Lonsdale, Preach

“All alone, all we know is haunting me, making it harder to breathe, harder to breathe.”- The Neighbourhood, Leaving Tonight

“Now I see you get off of the subway, haven’t seen you in months but it’s okay. I’d forgotten but I feel the same, hate that I still wish you were…”- Claud, Wish You Were Gay

“A perfect stranger lying next to me, he’s playing God with broken figurines. He keeps calling me his little queen and I believe.”- Jake Wesley Rogers, Little Queen (This song deserves way more recognition, make sure to give it a listen!)

“Hell is so close to Heaven, hell is so close to Heaven. Hold on don’t look back, you know we’re better- we’re better than that. Lost and thrown away, you know we’re better- we’re better than that.”- Sleeping With Sirens, The Strays

“Alone tonight, I’m drawing my dreams across the sky farther than I can imagine- She wants it.”- CIX, Movie Star *Translated*

“Yeah I mixed words and some whiskey on the flight just to make sure I landed on time and I wrote me a song I could sing just in case I forgot everything.”- Marc E. Bassy, Last One I Love

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know, learned my lesson way too long ago.”

“Deadly fever, please don’t ever break, be my reliever 'cause I don’t self medicate”- Billie Eilish, my strange addiction

“And it’s worth it, it’s divine, I have this some of the time.”- Hozier, Cherry Wine

“And I realize you’re mine, Indeed, a fool am I.”- Queens of the Stone Age, No One Knows

“Look in the mirror ‘til I forget everything I know, everything I did was just a way to make the time feel faster.”- Miya Folick, Stock Image

“Do you feel how I feel? Are you numb? Do you tread crystal waters, bound to be stung? Are you scared? If I see you, we’re upon,

will you dye your hair dark so you’re no longer blonde?”- Isaac Dunbar, Cologne

“Tell me; To you I’m bad & hurtful. Because I’ve been busy, you’re hurting. Bad, bad, bad, I’m bad, bad.”- Crush, NAPPA (나빠) *Translated*

“‘Cause you don’t say what you feel, I’m the one driving but you take the wheel. You wanna wait, 'til we’re older, I’m the one who started this, but now I just want closure.”- Ieuan, Closure

“Our names carved in the pavement, sealed by what’s left of our handprints, now. I told my mom, she’d love to meet you, but it’s too bad she won’t get the chance to.”- COIN, Malibu 1992

“I’m running outta time to hold you close, running outta time to be your man. I’m just lost in this moment, I’ve been zoning.”- blackbear, 4u

“Standing on your mama’s porch, you told me that you’d wait forever. Oh and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never”- Bryan Adams, Summer Of ‘69

“I’ll go out, grow my hair too long, sing your least favourite songs at the top of my lungs. I’ll go out, kiss all of your friends, make a story and pretend it was me who made this end.”- The Vamps, Hair Too Long

“Getting my mind right, I’ll wait 'til the time’s right. I’m meaning to tell you why it’s hard to sleep at night. There’s nothing to fear now, girl, we should be here now. So why don’t you hear me out?”- Jeremy Zucker, Ft. blackbear, talk is overrated

“We haven’t spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated. Why won’t you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”- Harry Styles, From the Dining Table

“Look overhead at the stars and the ocean, foggy emotions, moments, erosion. This supernova could cause a commotion, my minds of the notion, you’ll still be my motive”- Ansel Elgort, Supernova

“I love that new dress you bought, yeah, you sure look nice. Heard you liked that new restaurant, you know, I’ve been there twice. And the way that you switch up your hair, all of the moments we’ve shared, strolling the streets back in Rome, oh, how I wish I was there. It ain’t fair.”- Ruel, Face To Face

“Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back. Even while we sleep we will find you acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature.”- Tear For Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World

“I’m wide awake, not losing any sleep, I picked up every piece and landed on my feet. I’m wide awake, need nothing to complete myself, no.” Katy Perry, Wide Awake

“If you don’t realize, all of the things your life can do you will be left behind, swept up by the storm of those you knew.”- Meltycanon, thankful

“I always knew that we’d be by each other’s side forever, now our time has come and I’d be satisfied if we died together. Yeah, our climate’s fucked, we might as well enjoy the weather, our time is up and I’d be satisfied if we died together.”- Samsa, Anthropocene

“There’s still so much to say, I’m faded, broken, pretending you’re on the line, wasting my time. Sinking deeper, watching you spend your night,

like I’ll be fine and I’ll be over this.”- NYK, Faded

“I’d rather go to hell, than be in purgatory, cut my hair, gag and bore me, pull this pin, let this world explode.”- My Chemical Romance, Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)

“I reached for a shooting star, it burned a hole through my hand

Made its way through my heart, had fun in the promised land.”- blink-182, Wishing Well

“Let go of your baggage, but don’t think I don’t understand it’s probably a challenge,”- Isaac Lewis, Fly

“It’s been a long night in New York city, it’s been a long night in Baton Rouge. I don’t remember you looking any better, but then again, I don’t remember you.”- John Mayer, Who Says

Prompts 101-119

#song prompts #prompts

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amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Stronger Than Diamonds

Part III of Fiercer than Fire

Pt. 1: x

Pt. 2: x

Summary: Thorin is stubborn, though secretly beginning to crumble under the persuasion of Fili and his comrades. You, however, have no time to worry about his opinion with goblins capturing your friends.

Characters: Fili x fem!reader, Thorin, Company

Word Count: 2,664

Warnings: Goblins

You’d lost count of how much you had been sneezing since you had started the hike up the Misty Mountains. Having reluctantly left the blissful haven of Rivendell, you’d been brainstorming options on how best to survive the oncoming storm and encounters you were going to have inside the mountains. Nothing was coming to mind.

Maybe you should’ve stayed behind with Gandalf and joined him as he left Rivendell. But no, you thought, you belonged with the Dwarves. You would see this through to the end, even if it meant facing near death in the mountains.

As you were thinking, your hand gripped Fili’s tighter without realizing and he looked over at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. Your head snapped up and you managed a wry smile at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried, is all. Rivendell was such a nice place compared to- well, everything else we’ve encountered so far.”

Fili chuckled in agreement.

“No need to worry, Y/N. You have me by your side, and the others. In case anything happens, we’ll all have your back.”

You smiled and felt someone staring at you. You looked over your shoulder to find Thorin, once again, glaring at the two of you. Your face fell immediately.

“Maybe not all of you,” you mumbled.

Thorin was unhappy. As usual. Though he was content with leaving the wretched Elves behind, he hadn’t expected you and his nephew to grow even closer, defying his orders so blatantly and seemingly enjoying it too.

He was marching, brooding and trying to remind himself why you angered him so, and why you were no match for the Durin family.

The two of you chuckled up ahead and the sound made Thorin’s eyes look up, landing on your hand entwined with Fili’s, walking side by side. It made his blood boil.

“Ah, young love. What a wondrous thing, isn’t it laddie?”

Thorin was startled to find Balin next to him, not realizing the white-haird Dwarf had joined him to interrupt his thoughts. He, too, was looking at you and Fili up ahead.

“I do not know of what you speak,” Thorin retorted gruffly. Balin pressed his lips together in a tight line.

“Come, come, now, Thorin, have you ever seen Fili this happy before? Certainly not with any lass like this.”

Thorin furrowed his brows, ready to argue. “Nonsense. Fili’s been perfectly happy with other courtships. This quest has simply got in the way of that. I’m to make sure one of them continues after we’ve taken back our home.”

Balin raised an eyebrow, much like Dwalin had mastered to do. “Name one.”

Thorin blinked in surprise. His mind raced to respond, not letting down so easily.

“There were plenty of potential suitors. The young noble lass from Ered Luin, ginger.”

“Ran off with one of the stableboys more than once, if I recall correctly.”

“They liked each other.”

“But they didn’t love each other, Thorin.”

Thorin frowned at Balin. “That daughter of one of Dis’ friends, then. The seamstress, they got along just fine.”

Balin laughed. “Oh, aye, but only to ogle other pretty ladies together. She was never interested in Fili, my lad.”

Thorin cast his eyes down in thought. Had he really been so blind to all those suitors?

“Look, Thorin. You are meant to take the throne at Erebor when we reclaim it. And if Fili does become King after you, what harm would having Y/N as Queen do?”

“She’s of the race of Men.”

“Yes, but not the race of Men here. She’s been beyond this world, Thorin. Seen things, learned things that we can hardly imagine. Wouldn’t that be an advantage for Erebor at least?”

Thorin hadn’t thought of it that way. He had never thought of you being an asset to the rebuilding and growth of his kingdom, only a hindrance. He was silent for a moment.

“All I’m saying lad, is that you and I have both seen Fili grow up, and he’s still growing into a fine young Dwarf to this day. We both know that there hasn’t been any other lass that’s made him smile so.”

Thorin looked back towards the two of you ahead of him and Balin. You turned your head to meet his gaze and the smile you had for Fili faded instantly. Something in Thorin’s chest felt heavy after the glare you two shared, something like guilt.

He pushed it aside as rain began to fall. He’d worry about it later.

“Y/N! Are you alright?”

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Y/N, wake up! Please.”

“Dwarves, Your Malevolence.”

“Y/N, it’s Fili, please, please wake up. They’ll throw you over or torture you if you don’t.”

“Dwarves?”

“Hm, huh? Fili? My head hurts…”

“We found them on the front porch.”

“It’s me, darling. It’s me, please wake up. Open your eyes.”

“Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.”

Claws were tearing at your skin and pain seared through you. Your eyes flew open and immediately you began fighting back. The stench of goblin filled your senses and you remembered where you were. The blow from falling down from the trap had knocked you unconscious, and blood was dripping down your face. You blinked and shook your head to wake up, struggling against the goblins as they tore off your coat and emptied your pockets.

“What are you doing in these parts? Speak!” The Great Goblin cried out, swinging his staff and staring the Company down.

None said a word, and you wormed your way through all the bodies to stand flush against Fili. His chest was rising rapidly, and your own skin was covered in a cold and terrified sweat. His eyes glanced over to you quickly, and you saw a moment of relief in them, but only briefly.

“Well then, if they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest.”

He pointed a gnarled finger at Ori, who’s face was one of shock. Nori grabbed his arm and tried to wrestle the army that began grabbing at his younger brother. Thorin stepped forward.

“Wait.”

Everyone halted and turned to him. Thorin took another step forward, blocking Ori and met the Goblin King’s gaze, who looked on in surprise.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain.”

Your eyes were flickering about, stepping even closer to Fili. The goblins were eyeing all of you hungrily. Whether for sport or for a meal, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh, but I’m forgetting, you don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a king. Which makes you nobody, really.”

“You don’t think goblins like man-meat, do you?” you whispered to Fili, trembling. “I mean, the Trolls were picky about eating you lot, so maybe these won’t wanna eat me.”

“I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg.”

Fili smirked a little. “I don’t think they’re going to care about what we taste like when they’ve skinned us and hacked us up in pieces, lass.”

You grimaced and nodded weakly.

“Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago,” Thorin was practically spitting the words at the Great Goblin, his hands in fists at his side.

“So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” The Great Goblin chuckled lowly, moving towards a small creepy goblin hanging in a basket. “Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.”

The tiny messenger goblin was cackling as it left, and your blood ran cold.

“You’ll be pleased to know that your long-term rival is still very much alive,” The Great Goblin snickered. “And your battles against him have meant nothing.”

Thorin visibly sneered and hurled forward as if to attack the giant monstrosity single-handedly.

“Uncle, no!” Fili exclaimed, grabbing Thorin’s arms before he could foolishly attack. You stood close behind him, keeping a hand wrapped around Fili’s upper arm, his presence being the only reassurance to prevent you from going into full panic-mode.

“Uncle, eh?” The Goblin King repeated. “Oh, what a wondrous mistake you’ve made there, King,” he snarled the word, “bringing your own kin into my realm.”

The cackling grew loud around them and echoed in the cave. Your ears hurt from the goblins’ laughter and you held onto Fili firmly. Then, four goblins dashed forward to throw Thorin to the side and seized Fili by a limb each.

The scream that ripped through your chest didn’t sound like it belonged to you, but your throat hurt nonetheless. Fili was struggling, trying to reach for one of his many daggers hidden in his clothes, but the goblins were holding him firmly, tearing through fabric and skin as they hauled him forward.

“So, you’ve managed to have a pathetic little bloodline after all?” The Goblin exclaimed, leaning down a little to examine Fili closely. “Hm, a little thin-looking, but I suppose he’d make a good meal or two for this lot.”

The goblins holding Fili down snickered maniacally. Your face went pale and you tried to reach for him, but Bofur held you back. They forced him to his knees. One of the larger goblins held up a thick whip with many tails. Cheering ensued around them.

“Whip him til he breaks!” the Goblin screeched. “Make him bleed!”

Your cries mixed with those of the Company, and you managed to worm your way out of Bofur’s grasp as the whip came bearing down.

What happened next was all a blur to you. You were shoving bodies out of the way and hurled yourself over Fili’s crouched figure just as blinding pain coursed through your back. Fili gasped as he felt your body cover your own, turning his torso to catch you protectively.

“What’s this?” The Goblin cried. “A saviour for the pretty little princeling?”

“Y/N, what in Durin’s name are you doing?” Fili whispered raggedly in your ear. The goblin was rearing to slash the whip across your back again and you looked him in the eyes.

“Protecting you,” you whispered back. Your hand trailed over his cheek, damp with sweat, before reaching into his coat and grabbing one of his many hidden daggers.

Before the goblin could strike again, your blade was in his throat and he dropped the whip before the goblins could register what had happened.

“What?” The Goblin King was infuriated as goblins began falling at your hand, your battle skills having improved thanks to the Company’s lessons. “No! Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!”

Your back was in pain, but adrenalin got the better of you. The Dwarves sprung into action as you began fighting back, grabbing their weapons and attacking the goblin army who were caught off guard.

Then, a blinding light threw all of you down on the floor. You yelled at the pain as you landed on your back, but relief spread through you as you made out Gandalf’s figure approaching the group, staff and Glamdring in hand.

A hand grabbed you by the bicep and hauled you up to your feet. You were surprised to find Thorin getting you up and ushering you down the rickety bridges, following the Wizard as the lot of you sprinted for your lives.

Somehow, you were still alive. The blood had become crusty on your back and your head was spinning from flying so high in the air.

You remembered vaguely what had happened after Goblin town. Bilbo had come back, you all rejoiced at the sight. But Azog sent you all running up into the trees. Fili had held onto you like a lifeline as your loss of blood began weakening you even more. Your vision had blurred when the fires began.

You recalled Bilbo running to save Thorin, and then you were being supported by Bofur as Dwalin, Fili and Kili all jumped into battle to fight against the Wargs.

Then everything had gone dark. Until Gandalf brought you back.

“Now now, lass, we need to take a look at those wounds.”

You waved Oin away, leaning heavily against Fili. “No, not until we get off this rock.”

“You were brave,” Fili whispered softly at you. “You saved my life, but you’re in no state to climb down yet.”

“I’m fine, Fili.”

“No, you’re not,” Thorin spoke up. “Do as Oin says. We have no time to wait for your stubbornness.”

Despite his kind words to Bilbo not mere minutes ago, his attitude was once again harsh and crisp towards you. You saw Fili’s eyes harden and he gently lowered you to sit on the ground as he marched towards his uncle.

“Her stubbornness may have saved all our lives in those caves, Uncle,” Fili said defiantly. You blinked in surprise. His tone had lowered menacingly and he didn’t waver one bit.

“She has tried time and time again to meet your approval!” your love continued. “And yet, even on the brink of death, you still cannot bring yourself to take a liking to her?”

“Fili-,” Thorin began.

“She has done more for this Company than any of us! And for what?”

“Fili…”

“Erebor isn’t her home, and yet she still comes with us. She owes us no allegiance, and yet she still fights for us! She puts up with all the foul words you throw at her, right up to the moment where she could die, saving my skin! Why would she do any such things when you still treat her like vermin?”

“Because she loves you, Fili.”

Fili froze mid-rant. He tended to ramble when passionate about something, you remembered fondly. You stared as the King Under the Mountain looked past his nephew at you. You clambered to your feet as he came closer to meet him at his height.

“I am realizing many things, Y/N. I realize that Hobbits may be more stubborn than us Durinfolk, and that the dead still live.” He paused a moment and his eyes flickered to the ground. “And I also realize that I was wrong about your intentions with my nephew.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. You stared at Thorin, dumbfounded at his confessions.

“I apologize it took me so long,” he apologized! “and that it took a brave but foolish action on your behalf to make me see that, truly, the two of you were destined for each other.”

Fili had rejoined your side and your hand squeezed his tightly, both for support and in disbelief.

“What are you saying, Uncle?”

“I’m saying that I give my blessing to your courtship. Though I hardly think that would’ve stopped the two of you from getting married anyway.”

You grinned at that, because it probably was true. “Thank you, Thorin.”

You wanted to scream, celebrate and cry all at once, but you slumped against Fili in exhaustion. All your resources were almost spent. Fili wrapped an arm around you.

“Let’s get you fixed up, love,” he murmured before looking back up at Thorin. “But, Uncle, all the things you said. The traditions we’ve had, the expectations of me as crown prince…”

Thorin rested a hand on Fili’s shoulder and smiled. “Let me deal with that when the time comes, Fili. None will stand in the way of me and my family’s happiness. Even old laws and their rules.”

Fili smiled and tears formed in his eyes. The two Dwarves pressed their foreheads together for a moment before he picked you up in his arms and lead you to Oin and Gandalf, promising to take care of you from now on until the end.

So! I promised this third and final part a very, very, very long time ago, and many of you had asked for it back then. Then I disappeared and never looked at Tumblr for years, up until now. I’m beyond sorry for not writing for so long, and I hope I’ve made it up to you with this. Let me know what you think, or if you want to see me write more. Even after all these years I’ll always come back to Middle-Earth and their stories.

#filixyou #filixreader #fili x you #fili x reader #thorin #bilbo #gandalf #hobbit #hobbit fanfic #hobbit imagine #fiercer than fire pt3 #brighter than stars #fanfic #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #merry writes

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poptod · 4 years

Text

The Dead Heed No Lies (Ch. 2)

Description: If you won't join the life of the party upstairs, the life of the party comes to you.

Notes: Building up. Word Count: 1.9k

Chapter Two: Holed Up

It had been approximately a week since you’d fainted in the break room, found by Ahkmenrah, who was apparently worried about you after you hadn’t returned, even as dawn approached. When you came fully back to consciousness, he sat with you, explaining what the tablet did, how it needed moonlight, which was the real reason for the transfer. He further explained that it only worked during the night, which was why everything seemed so still during the day. He’d been gracious about the whole fainting thing, telling you that it wasn’t entirely unexpected, simply wishing you a better day ahead of you before he left to his exhibit.

You decided not to accompany him. Watching a man crawl into his own grave to die seemed like something that wouldn’t be good for you.

“How long are you staying here?” You asked Tilly, watching from the balcony as chaos ensued in the form of an almost hysterical party.

“Dunno, this is a pretty prestigious museum. But should be for another few months.”

“That’s quite a while,” you noted, nodding in a mildly impressed manner.

“Should give you enough time to get to know Ahk more,” she said, leaning over to you, attempting horridly at a wink.

“I - what?”

“You know, you and the King,” she said, saying his title with a theatrical form of reverence.

“… Right. Me and the King. What is this, Disney?” You shook your head, chuckling to yourself.

“What? You’d make a great couple,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Til, I barely know him. You’re seeing things.”

“Whatever you say,” she said skeptically, turning and leaving down the stairs.

The whole notion she was proposing was ridiculous. You’d spoken to him a grand total of three times, the first being when you met him, the second was him waking you from a black out, and the third was you accidentally running into his parents, and he quickly introduced you to them.

On the whole, the conversation wasn’t bad, but it could’ve gone better. It felt rather like a young teen who had modern ideals with two racist parents, but this time it was an actual King and Queen who had Jewish slaves and their son, who had apparently never agreed with that.

You didn’t agree with it either, being Jewish yourself. After his parents had left, Ahkmenrah explained that it wasn’t the first time it’d happened, that it was equally embarrassing as it was funny. You agreed, and quickly excused yourself.

As fun as it was to be upstairs during the night of life, you had a job, and it couldn’t be avoided. Especially since McPhee was now breathing down your back, which was a change, because usually he was at home, asleep, during your work hours. Now, fully awake, he was free to observe your every movement. Not that he did, he was busy making sure nothing in the museum was destroyed. You stayed far away, in the basement, locked up and sorting through the archives.

Every now and then Tilly would come down, asking you to take a break, which you nearly always declined.

Then the King visited you.

You could tell it was him without even looking up, from the way his cloak dragged across the ground, and his sandals hitting the asphalt.

“Hi Ahk,” you said, not looking up from the papers you were sorting.

Man killed 150 bears in American wilderness, original article…

“Hello. How’d you know it was me?” He asked, chuckling as he sat down beside you. That was something you hadn’t expected of him when you first met him - for him to be normal, to stoop down to your level. Sit with you on the ground, cross legged, looking like a perfectly normal man in an impeccable costume. Warm and human.

“I can hear your cloak. No one else wears a cloak,” you said, smiling as you looked at him, before looking right back down again.

“Ah. Suppose it does sort of… give it away,” he said, fumbling with his cape in his fingers.

“It’s fantastic material, though. I assume it’s the same clothing you were embalmed with?” You said, and without thought you fingered the material, always wondering what fine cloth would feel like. As much as you studied history, you never actually experienced any of the findings it brought.

“Oh, uh, yes. It is. Gold sewn in and all. I think we were a little dramatic back then,” he laughed quietly, his eyes fixed on your hands.

You knew it was inappropriate, but dear God it was soft.

“Well you had a lot of gold. Symbol of status, a way of letting people know how much you were worth. It’s like people owning mansions nowadays, buying fancy cars. Just a show of wealth and status.”

“Unsightly,” he joked.

“Unseemly,” you said with a chuckle, playing along. After a moment of quiet giggles you turned back to your papers, continuing to sort through them though it was the last thing you wanted to be doing. Here you were, studying historical records when a literal goldmine of information was in front of you, and he acted quite like he liked you, and a lot, always open to talk, always trying to learn more about you. Overall, very friendly.

“Ahkmenrah, I was wondering,” you started, setting your papers down. The more you looked at them, the duller they got. He looked expectantly at you, so you continued.

“There’s hardly any mention of you at all in any history books. No statues, we only found out you existed when we found your, um. Your sarcophagus. Do you have any idea as to why that is?”

It was, maybe, a sensitive topic. Maybe it was a question he didn’t know the answer to. Either way it evoked some emotional reaction out of him as he shifted uncomfortably, tucking his feet and hands further into himself in a psychological sign of defensiveness.

“I didn’t know, for a while. I found out later when my parents told me. I don’t remember this for whatever reason but my brother killed me, and uh… took the throne? It was his birthright, to be fair,” he said, defending him though he deserved none of it.

“He was older than you, but your parents gave you the throne?”

“Yes. I know it’s odd,” he sighed, relaxing as he leaned back on his arms. “But they thought it would be a better decision if I ruled instead of him, and generally speaking, I think they were right. My brother’s a bit, ah, bloodthirsty, you could call it?”

The two of you laughed, but you wondered what in the hell his brother could’ve done in Egyptian times to be considered bloodthirsty enough to pass the throne to the younger child.

“Anyway, he poisoned me, and my parents were still alive when this happened, but they couldn’t do much while he desecrated everything that ever mentioned me.”

“That’s depressing,” you sighed, stretching your arms as you relaxed, looking ahead to the rows of boxes.

“What’s depressing,” he said, his tone suddenly changing, “is you sitting down here all night when all the fun is upstairs.”

“Oh not you too,” you groaned, not wanting to have to convince another person that you had an actual job to do.

“What? It’s not healthy, you know,” he said, laughing, knowing he was a terrible influence.

“I’m fully aware of that but it’s my job. Wouldn’t expect you to understand that, all you do is have fun,” you chuckled, digressing into a tired sigh. He hummed, quiet and low, relaxing in his position once more.

“In that case, if you really can’t be swayed, I’ll stay with you.”

You stammered, fully disagreeing. If he stayed you’d never get anything done, he was a huge distraction, him and his beautiful flowing robes and his stupid gorgeous face - no, you couldn’t do it, you would absolutely not stand for it.

However, before you could go off on a rant of why that was a terrible idea (while completely avoiding your actual lovey-dovey reason as to why it was a terrible idea), he saw the look in your eye, and his smile faded into a sad, open mouthed, glittering eyed expression that made him instantly look like he’d been crying.

Like a goddamn puppy.

“Fine,” you sighed, giving in without a word exchanged. “But don’t distract me!”

“Me? Never!” He laughed, standing up and wandering through the aisles, letting you have your silence as you worked. You didn’t say anything, but you appreciated the thought deeply.

Every now and then, over the next few hours that passed, you’d see him through the spaces between the boxes. His head would poke out, and sometimes he’d kneel down to where you were, giving you a funny face for you to soften and laugh at.

This boy is too kind for his own good, you thought to yourself, wondering if he was like this during his life in Egypt. As you sorted mindlessly through sheets of paper, your mind wandered, going through the two different scenarios.

If he was exactly the same then as he was now, you wondered how he survived. As a prince, he was supposed to be mature, a role model for his kingdom. He should’ve been manly and strong, neither of which were traits he’d shown thus far.

If he was not the same, you wondered when the change happened. What he was like back then. Was he cruel, antisemitic, and a succinct ruler? Or was he just as kind as he was now, just more mature, with the weight of his responsibilities drowning out his personality?

“You look lost,” he noticed, boxes pushed to the side as he poked his head through the other side of the open shelf. You laughed, pushing the boxes back together to force his head out. He whined, jogging his way around the long hall to make it to you.

“No need to be ashamed. I, too, get lost in sheets of paper,” he chuckled, sitting down behind you and looking over your shoulder. He was slightly taller than you, allowing him a vantage point.

“You know, you speak remarkably good English for a 4,000 year old Egyptian Pharaoh,” you said, using the end of your pencil to tap his nose.

“What can I say, it’s what everyone else speaks. I hardly ever speak Egyptian now except with my parents.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, growing slowly quieter. “Your version of the language is dead now.”

A clangor of Rex’s roar resounded from upstairs, a sound you now knew signified that everyone needed to return to their place.

“Just as I am soon about to be,” he said, grunting slightly as he stood. Without thought you stood with him, letting your pencil and paper fall to the ground clattering quietly. With a chuckle he looked you up and down, almost sarcastically wondering if you’d do anything else embarrassing. You just glared, the blushing heat in your cheeks obvious.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you mumbled, leading him out the door and up the stairs. He followed, and the two of you walked to his old room in the museum.

As you reached the threshold he stopped, turning to you.

“I must leave you now,” he said, his words dramatic but his tone sincere. His hands came up to hold yours, another sign of his truthfulness.

“Try and do what I said?” He asked of you.

“What was that again?”

“Have some fun. Don’t hole up in that basement.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sure.”

He left you with a smile, never wanting people to see him as he wrapped himself back up in his tomb. You understood his wish, obeying his need for privacy.

Until tomorrow night, you thought to yourself.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Night at the Museum #ahkmenrah #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #gender neutral reader

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meowdymista · 3 years

Text

v. we might be dead by tomorrow

Part of the Devil’s Backbone project - Masterlist

“My God, is that Sadie Adler?”

Turning around, the woman’s mouth drops open. “Arthur motherfuckin’ Morgan!” she squeals, throwing her arms up and hugging him tight. “Oh my god! I thought you were dead! Am I dreaming? Is it really you?"

"It's me, alright." He groans as he squeezes her close, both of them laughing as he finally releases her and holds her at arm's length. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Bounty huntin' mostly." She slaps his arm looking him up and down, her eyes still sparkling with disbelief. "What about you? What have you been doin' all these years that you couldn't drop by to say hi to your good friend Sadie?"

"Avoidin' Pinkertons mostly." He nods at the bartender who promptly pours two double shots of whisky. They toast and only Arthur pulls a face. "Been travellin' around with Jack and Abigail, tryna get them settled someplace."

"You're still with them?" She nods appreciatively. "Does that mean you and Abigail…?" He gives her a blank stare. “Are you two… together?”

“Oh! Nah, o’course not. She’s always been in love with Marston.”

“Well, John’s been dead goin’ on eight years now.”

“So’s Jake. Have you met someone?”

Sliding another dollar to the bartender, she blows a long raspberry. “Have I hell. I think that was it for me. I’m not exactly meeting the best of suitors in my line of work.”

Arthur shrugs, accepting the beer she pushes into his hand. “Well, there you have it.”

“Oh no, you ain’t getting off that easy! You can’t be tellin’ me you ain’t ever slept together?”

“The women we travelled with were working girls, Sadie, with the exception of you. I mean, even Molly was startin’ that way ‘til Dutch picked her up.”

“I meant since I last saw y’all.” She laughs at the colour creeping up Arthur’s neck. “I knew it!”

“It ain’t like that, Sadie-”

“Well what’s it like then?” she teases with a big smile.

“It’s- y’know what it’s like. Some nights are more lonely than others.” His gaze is fixed on his fingers as they pick at the label,

“So you’ve only done it once or twice?” The heat starts burning in the cartilage of his ears. “Or once or twice this week?”

“We ain’t done it this week!” Arthur sits up a little taller, his cheeks still burning.

“No sexual activity at all?” He glances at her, his faltering voice making her laugh. “Arthur Morgan, how I’ve missed you!”

“Shurrup!” he growls, shoving her gently and draining the rest of his beer in one. “Don’t you have some work to be gettin’ on with?”

“Why? You sick of me already?” Her hand squeezes his shoulder until he meets her gaze. “Listen. I’m happy for you. You deserve to have a loving family.”

“You got the wrong end of the stick. I’m just helping ‘em get settled. We bought some land and built a ranch on it. When it’s paid for itself and they got a foot on this farming shit, I’ll leave ‘em to it.”

“How old is the ranch now?”

“About a year or more.”

“And you’re set on movin’?”

He shrugs. “I ain’t gonna outstay my welcome. Just wanna make sure they’ll be alright.”

Shaking her head, she heaves a deep breath. “What’s Abigail say about that?”

“We ain’t really talked about it-”

“So you’re sleepin’ together, runnin’ a ranch and helpin’ with her boy… but you’re still intending to leave?”

“Shit, Sadie, it won’t be for a while yet. Another year or more... it depends. I don’t know. Nobody knows.”

Quiet blankets the conversation. They each accept another beer, drinking wordlessly.

“Pearson runs the shop out in Rhodes now,” she states calmly.

“Really? Good for him!”

“Got himself a wife too - Esther.” Her sideways glance is enough to tickle him. “She’s got him as whipped as his Aunt Cathy!”

“Well, it weren’t for lack of suitors!” He laughs remembering their first trip into Rhodes. “Damn, Mrs Adler. Where does the time go?”

“Speak for yourself, old man! Them grey hairs had to come from somewhere.”

He scratches the stubble on his jaw self consciously. “Shurrup. I’m retired.”

“Didn’t know reprobates could retire.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he stands up. “Me neither, but it’s nice to try.”

“Well if you ever want any work, you know where I am. Most towns have bounty posters up and around. If you need money for the ranch, or if you’re serious about leaving ‘em to it…”

“Huh, maybe. I used to pick some up back in the day. You got an address, or an alias if I wanna write?”

“Nothin’ particular. Send it to wherever you hear from me last. No alias - this is legal work I’m doin’ now, so Mrs Adler is just fine. Yourself?”

“Beecher’s Hope, West Elizabeth.”

“Near Blackwater?”

“That’s the one.”

“I heard there’s some rough folk thataway.”

“The Skinner Brothers? Yeah, they can be pretty nasty.”

She hesitates. “I guess I can see why you want to stick around a bit longer… To make sure they’re safe.”

He agrees without much commitment - that reason is as good as any. “You should drop by if you’re in the area. I’m sure Abigail and Jack would love to see you and how well you’re doing for yourself.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.” She offers her hand, but he knocks it aside and pulls her into another hug.

“I’ll see you again, Mrs Adler.”

“Another time, Mr Morgan!” She tips her hat as Arthur waves back.

*****

Rufus gallops across the ranch as Arthur rides in trying not to jostle his arm. “Go away, boy,” he hisses. “Where’s Jack? Go play with Jack.” He swears as the dog begins to bark at him. His horse is too used to his grumpy antics to be moved by the aging pup.

He nudges his horse to the barn doors, using the bottom of his bow to prod them open ahead of the mare. Inside, he swings himself down, not caring if there is a steaming pile of manure where he lands. He's fortunate to land on the concrete with little more than a hiss at the jostle. Moving to the nearest stall to light a lamp, he finds Jack reading besides his favourite calf.

"Hey, Uncle Arthur."

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" he growls, snatching the book out of his hands and marking the page with a feather from his hat. "Get inside!"

"Y-yes sir." The boy is clearly taken aback. Arthur rarely exposes his fierce side nowadays - mostly he is calm, quietly cheerful, and appreciative of even the smallest conveniences. He scrambles to his feet, reaching out for the book when his eyes are drawn to the wound with a horrified gasp. "Uncle Arthur!"

He grimaces, still trying to usher him outside. "Shurrup! You want to wake everyone?"

"You're hurt!" It is more of a question than an exclamation, but his stuttering doesn't expect an answer. "What happened? Are we in danger? Is it Pinkertons? What do we do?"

"Shit, Jack! Breathe!" He squeezes the boy's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "It's nothing you need to worry about. No one's coming here, no one is coming to hurt us, alrigh'? Take a breath before you pass out or somethin'."

"Then what happened to your arm?" Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It looks pretty deep. Did a bear get you?"

"Sure."

"Do we need to get the animals in? What if it comes onto the ranch? What were you doing out so late anyway?"

"Boah!" Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes to help keep his composure. "Get to bed or God help me, I ain't above knocking you out to get some peace!"

When he opens his eyes he expects the boy to be moving away, but instead he's leaning in to look at the wound.

"You need me to bring Ma? You look like you need stitches."

"No!" He grips his arm tight enough to make him whimper. "Do not breathe a word of this to your mother. This is between you an' me, a'right?"

"You need help-"

"I can take care of myself." He releases him and steps back, beginning to get supplies from his saddle bags. "Don't you go breathin' a word about this to anyone, y'hear? Nobody."

Jack watches tentatively as the man begins to remove his jacket and shirt. Seeing the ripped flesh makes his stomach churn. "What can I do?"

"I told yer-"

"Let me help." Jack nods once, his small soft face gripped with determination. "What do you need? I- I know where Ma keeps her sewing kit. An' I'm sure there'll be some boiled water left over for drinkin'. Will salt help?"

Arthur sighs, his body sagging as he deliberates. He has never been good at accepting help. The only reason he accepted any help in the past was because of Grimshaw's steadfast stubbornness or he was outnumbered. All those years of being strong… standing tall… and now he can't even scare a boy out of a barn.

"Fine. Bring me a clean union suit too. I think I saw my blue one knocking about somewhere. An' a pair of pliers - the small ones. Should be under the sink or up in the loft with Uncle."

The boy runs off leaving Arthur to reflect. For a boy without his father, he was growing up strong. He was lucky to have his mother's lust for learning, but somehow his father's gait had survived, especially when he ran. Sometimes Arthur would catch himself watching him and remembering the crap John got into at his age. If John was a coyote, Jack was a fox. He had a good head on his shoulders, and always assessed the risks rather than blundering in blindly like his father did. It was just a shame that the recklessness had been completely swallowed by such delicate hesitation - some things were best learned by jumping in the deep end.

The door creaks as Jack slips back inside breathless, his cheeks rosy from the exertion.

"I was quick as I could. Nobody saw me I don't think."

"Good." Arthur pulls the cork from an open bottle of whiskey with his teeth, spitting it against the wall before chugging its contents. “C’mere. Best we get to by the light if you’re gonna do this.”

Jack gulps as Arthur sits himself on the milking stool, wincing as he inspects the wound. “D’you got the pliers?”

“Right here, sir.”

“OK, now I’m gonna need you to take a look in the wound. I’m sure one of ‘em got me with an arrow before the bastard sliced me.”

“An arrow?” repeats the boy, swallowing his stomach as he eyes the mess of flesh. “You said it was a bear?”

He scoffs. “I’ve said many things in my life, Jack Marston, not all of them honest.”

The boy doesn’t reply. He’s trying to breathe through his mouth but the iron in the air still caresses his tastebuds. “I can’t see anything, Uncle Arthur.”

“Alright. Grab a shirt from Gwyn and bring over the salt water. We gotta get this clean before you sew it up.”

“I ain’t done much sewin’ before.”

Arthur grunts. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

The boy is obedient. He tries to be as careful as possible, but despite his ginger pats, a hiss still seeps out between his teeth. Arthur leans his head back against the barn wall to keep himself steady.

“I saw Sadie Adler when I went out Valentine way. D’you remember her?”

Jack thinks back as he wrings the shirt out. “Maybe?”

“Well, she’s doin’ well. Bounty huntin’. Said it’s good money.” He exhales sharply. “I been doin’ some here and there. Mostly fraudsters or petty thieves. None with any fight or any weapons or shit.”

“Why?”

He tilts his head to review the boy’s reaction. The whiskey and blood loss has loosened his tongue. “I want to help you and your ma buy this place outright. Eight dollars a day is plenty to keep y’all fed and clothed but the bank likes to charge more the longer it takes you to pay it back.”

“Ma will kill you if she finds out.”

“Don’t tell her.” He grips the boy’s wrist with his good arm. “Please? This- this was foolishness. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“So why did you?”

“I used to be a good shot. A few years back I could have taken ‘em out without any bother, but either I’m gettin’ slow or they’ve got faster.” He glances at his arm and scoffs. “Maybe both,” he grunts as he takes another deep swig of liquor.

“OK, well, it looks clean. Still doesn’t look to be anything much in there.”

“A’right. Bring a needle an’ thread over. Next bit is easy, ok?”

After Jack overcomes his squeamishness, Arthur is sewn up in no time. The boy helps him clean the smaller cuts and injuries, including a bullet in his leg that hadn’t gone too deep. By the time he’s finished, Arthur is dozing, slumped against one of the beams. He wakes him with a gentle shake and heaves him to his feet.

“Hol’ up a minute.” Arthur staggers to the horse and begins to pull at the saddle. Seeing what he’s trying to do with limited mobility, Jack quickly unfastens the clasps and helps set it aside. “Thanks, son.” He ruffles his hair fondly. “Y’know, you look like your father did at your age?”

“Really?” Jack pulls his arm over his shoulder, leading him in the direction of the house. Colour is beginning to light the sky. It must be near three in the morning.

“Yeah. I didn’t care much for him then.” He snorts laughing. “Your Uncle Hosea wasn’t best pleased with me.”

****

Arthur grunts as a hammering brings him back to consciousness. His body is stiff, his mouth dry, his head thumping without the noise. Squinting in the morning light, Jack is sticking his head through the door.

“Uncle Arthur? Are you ok?”

“Never better,” he growls sarcastically. “What’s up?”

“Mrs Adler - the lady you spoke about last night? She’s outside.”

#sadie adler #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #meowdymista #jack marston

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way: Chapter Eight

The Way To Redemption

⇢a/n: I hope this chapter can bring some light to everyone during this difficult time. This was difficult to write, so please let me know if something doesn’t make sense/sounds fragmented. It’s quite possible some paragraphs seem forced in! please leave your thoughts in the replies :) I love you all!!!!

⇢ masterlist | previous chapter | inbox | >>NEXT CHAPTER<<

⇢Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader: angst | wordcount: 4, 453

⇢ Featuring, Wendi, Ryder, Paz, Gold, Lando, and Boba (JFC)

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen

To whomever it may concern, the transmission started. This is Lando Calrissian, the Baron Administrator on Cloud City. Following the disappearance of several men, as well as the Bounty Hunter I employed, I have come across a gunship marked from the Pre-Empire reign. The ship is empty but it is clearly missing its passengers. After careful investigation, I have chosen to relay this transmission to the last person or peoples in contact with the pilot.

The hand that grabbed out in the darkness pressed over your mouth.

You jerk awake, stirring in fear under your thin quilt.

“Ssh,”the intruder coaxed. Your eyes darted frantically, straining to see past the darkness. Past the sparks of light the dance is the slender face of Vidia.

You sat up, your loose hair in a messy whirl over your shoulders.

“Why are you not in your own bed?” You tiredly implore. Your good friend’s face did not wrench in a frown nor a grin like you would have expected. It chilled your blood when you realized she bore not a shred of emotion in her eyes or her ebony face.

She held your hands close to her, her grip like that of ten men. You couldn’t start to understand the painful silence that knit between you two.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

Her lips parted with a small tremor in her chin. Her words wouldn’t ever quite leave your mind after that night, but you had no way of knowing that at that very moment.

“You’re going to leave me?” you whispered.

Vidia’s hands gripped your hands tightly. Her eyes that glistened under the soft torch light filled with a strange kind of sorrow, as if she were parting from her own child.

“I’ll come back for you. So soon. It’s a promise.”

And then she left your side, as quietly as she’d come.

Bursting awake felt like being overwhelmed by all your senses at once. The medicinal burn of alcohol flooded your nose, stinging your nostrils; the touch of the air burned your skin as if you were too close to the flame of a campfire. Your ears pulse and ache at the flat, shrieking bell that rings without stop.

The bitter taste of your dry tongue floods your mouth as you salivate under the pressure of your panicked awakening. As for your sight,you see nothing but the bright blur of colors, as though you’d squeezed your eyes shut to see distant galaxies much like a child would.

Part of you wanted to call out for help. Your chin quivered as your mouth contorted; the muscles of your jaw clenched as you were unable to form any words. It seemed that, for this time after waking, you could not remember how to speak. You made panicked sounds a bit like a baby would before you could quite recall your verbal skills.

Your pathetic sqwacking for help got answered by the strong, leather bound hands of a stranger squeezing your shoulders.

You couldn’t remember much from before your sleep but that you’d been in serious danger.

You called for your husband as you flailed against the gripping hands, whose strength matched ten hundred men. Amidst the panic, you feel the sorrow that blossomed through your chest like blood on cloth. Upon the thought of your husband, you remembered just what happened. The fuzzy memories fit together like pieces of broken glass. You couldn’t fit them together on your own. You had the hazy image of Din’s hands laid across yours, helping you to guide the glass whole.

“It’s alright,” the light voice commanded. You could vaguely remember hearing this voice once before.

You moan in despair as you recognize Paz, his warmth seeping through his leather gloves as he clutched your hand.

“Bring me to him,” you begged; you knew the answer would not be in your favor.

And yet, when Paz said the words, you could not help but break into a fissure of panic and tears. The aching in your limbs felt as it’d pour way into your bones. The crying only made the pain worse, as it wrung a tension headache across your forehead.

Din is gone. He is lost, nowhere to be found.

You were rescued after three months of being missing. However, as the covert did not have the exact tools to wake you immediately, you were kept asleep for four long months, feeling nothing, witnessing nothing; not even the replay of your memories. No dreams. Nothing to reflect. You could call it a wonderful nap, but it didn’t feel wonderful waking up.

You wished you could go back to that in between state, void of worry and grief until Din had returned.

Oh, how you are praying for his return.

Your vision failed to come back to you after some long minutes of Paz walking you through breathing exercises. The crying had exhausted you, as well as triggered a set of hiccups.

Paz and another Mandalorian, who did not speak, helped you move from the medical table onto a soft bed.

“How did you find me?” you ask, your voice hoarse. Paz is so close to your side, his presence never wavering. “Din had a tracking beacon on his ship. It led us to you.”

Yes, that’s right. He had insisted you wear a tracker.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“The hospital of the covert,” Paz responds faithfully. “You’ll see again, soon. It’ll take time to walk, and for the aching to go away. You’re in the process of recovering. You could think of it like an illness.”

“I do not care about my health,” you croaked. “I want my husband.”

How badly you want him. Burrowing your head in the crook of his warm neck would ease your body’s pain. The weight of his arm around you would ease your mind and heart.

Without him, you feel so helpless.

Guilt tries to pull you into the ground, as if your stomach held a heavy anchor of guilt and it plunged to the center of Nevarro.

How had you been alright, and not Din? How had you been separated?

Worse, had he been killed after you went into hibernation?

Tortured? Hurt? Even one hand laid on him sent you into a frenzy of anger.

Wanting to cry, your face pulled up so all the muscles hurt, but you could not summon the tears to fall.

Paz’s hand came to rest on top of yours. “It’ll be alright.”

You tried to pretend Paz’s hand was Din’s; but even the leather felt different. “How did you find me?” you asked.

“We found a tracking beacon on the Crest. We spent months looking for you, negotiating terms to get you back.” Paz’s hand squeezed yours, as if he meant to be comforting; it did not feel that way. “You have to tell us,” Paz’s voice urged. “Tell us who is responsible.”

Your blood boiled as you thought long and hard about it. You tried your best to recall the finer details. The green armor and the dark features of your captor is clear as day, but his name is impossible to remember. You felt nauseous as you thought. “I don’t know,” you whimpered out. “He was a Mandalorian...but he didn’t follow the rules. He was cruel. He threatened to kill us both. He was working with Lord Vader.”

“What was his name?” This came from Wendi, who had been soundless til now. You didn��t know she was here.

“I can’t remember,” you whispered.

Wendi gritted a sound of anguish. “There are several Mandalorians in league with Vader,” she proclaimed. “There’s no way we could keep track of those, let alone those who have been in and out of Bespin in the past year. Isn’t there anything else?”

“No,” you muttered. “There’s absolutely nothing.”

One month later

The bed just didn’t feel right without Din by your side.

The endless stretch of soft blankets felt suffocating and cold, as if it were a contraption meant to confine you from anything comforting. There came a time when you couldn’t bring yourself to cry again, as you had done often since the awakening; this such time visited you in the middle of the night, nine months after you had been captured on Bespin. Din’s face is so clear in your mind that you find it impossible to believe such time has passed. Nine months; you could be nearing the end of a pregnancy by now; but instead you had spent these days as an oversized bookend, gathering dust in the back of a warehouse. You’d been left alone, left for practically death, embedded into a block of carbonite.

In nine months you could have achieved so much at Din’s side. Aside from a child, there could have been epic adventures; your first fights. The purchase of a real home somewhere out in the vast universe you’d been so naively eager to explore.

You haven’t a clue what happened to Din after you’d been frozen. A part of you wants to hope that he is alive and well and surviving somewhere in the world. But you know deep down that it’s more likely that he is dead. He might have died just moments after you were put into hibernation. Or perhaps he’d survived a while before meeting a lonely surmise.

You long to see his face. You’ve got no photos or drawings of him; only the rendering of his face in your mind may satisfy the craving for his dark features and brown, brown hair.

You move upright to feel for the knob of the bedside lantern. Your fingers touched the dial, then turned it.

The soft light rose like a beast coming to its hind legs, the flames expanding a long shadow across the wall. You moved off the mattress to the little wardrobe. You’d become seized with the urge to be close to Din, now more than ever. You sift through each folded garment. You feel so suffocated to be parted from your husband.

Your heart is thumping so hard that the pulse is in your ears and in your fingers.

Your fingers close around the fabric instantly when you feel it underneath all the unused clothes.

The jacket is in your hands. The worn, soft brown leather jacket. You could press it to your face and smell Din’s natural perfume. The faded smell of beskar and soap cleared your mind. A moment of tranquil exhaustion had washed over you. Sinking down to rest on your knees, you tucked the leather jacket close around you.

You couldn’t sleep for a long time; instead, you sat on the floor of your bedroom, cradling the leather jacket as if it actually was Din.

Hours seemed to pass. You couldn’t do much but stare at every grain in the walls.

The brown leather jacket, soft and worn, is just as comforting as it had been when Din first gave it to you. He’d cared enough to give this jacket to you eleven months ago. Like you did then, you pulled the leather over your shoulders. Pushing your arms into the sleeves, you furled closer into the cape of fabric. The smell of his soa lingered along the insides of the collar. It hurt to smell him so close to you, so close that you could trick your brain into thinking he’s right beside you.

The sensation had you wide awake. Sleep could not and would not come to grant you the peace of mind. Still dressed in your night clothes, but wrapped up in Din’s jacket, you padded across the little bedroom to the door.

You could see the chair which housed your helmet. Din’s helmet should be beside it. He should be laying in the bed, half awake, mumbling for you to come back and keep him warm.

The halls of the covert aren’t totally empty. Light lined the walls from the mounted torches. A few Mandalorians lingered around, sitting at the leisure tables and playing board games. Probably too anxious to sleep.

There isn’t any moment where the entire covert is asleep all at once. Paz and Ryder, as well as another handful of their friends, guard the tunnels during the night. No one could risk an ambush.

You wandered into the gathering hall. The main table of food is lit with candles, for those who want a midnight snack. No one else is there.

You swiped a piece of cheese out of the basket piled high. Sinking your teeth into the rich block, you took a seat. One hand hovered over a lit candle, your finger swiping across the tip of the flame daringly as you tested the limits.

You heard the clacking footsteps down the hall minutes before they even came into the gathering hall. You tilted your head back so see Paz, standing tall in his blue armor.

“What are you doing awake?” he asked in a voice so soft you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him. “Morning already?”

“Close to it,” Paz said. “The sun will be up in an hour.”

“I see.”

Another day had come and gone; you’re just as lonely as you were the day before, and the day before that. You lost your appetite, setting the cheese down in a cloth napkin to wrap it up and save for later.

“How are you?”

Paz’s voice came again as he watched you carefully from his place just paces away. You gritted your teeth at the question. You’ve come to hate these words.

“I’m the same as I have been all this time,” you tell him. “And I will be until my husband is back at my side.”

His armor shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his beskar moving from left hip to right. “Y/n…”

You grimmaced hearing his voice say your name. You’d heard this particular term, with that particular tone, more times than you could count.

“Please, don’t say anything,” you stopped him before he could continue. “I already know what you’re going to say. For once, I’d like to hear the truth. Don’t give me false hope. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He seemed stunned by your words. His hands hovered in the air awkwardly as he debated doing as you’d asked.

“Please?” you asked him. Your voice cracked so badly that it had alerted you to your own crying.

Paz looked down to his feet. His helmet must have weighed down on his neck.

“Spit it out,” you urged him. You couldn’t help but feel bitter and angry. Paz didn’t deserve the attitude you were giving him, but you were unable to stop it.

“It should have been me.” Paz’s words didn’t make sense at first. “It was meant to be me. And if it had been, none of this would have happened.”

“What do you mean?” you croaked out.

“You and I were meant to marry. Not Din. It was for Clan Viszla. But Din couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being with you. He forced his way by your side. If I had married you instead, you wouldn’t have been hurt. I wouldn’t have let it happen.”

The world felt like it was colliding with another planet. Your stomach flipped around so violently you felt like you’d puke all over yourself. You hadn’t expected to hear such a confession. You’d rather hoped it would be something useful; something real, something motivational, like how you’d have to eventually move on from grief to go and seek vengeance for your missing husband. Instead, you’d gotten the worst piece of news possible.

You lurched to your feet. “How could you say this to me?” you shouted. “How could you tell me such a selfish, selfish truth? Do you have any idea how much I need you right now? You’re my only friend, and yet all you can do is hurt me.”

He took a heavy stride, his hands reaching out for you. You tried to perry out of his reach, but he grabbed you by the shoulders roughly.

“You asked for the truth. I only gave it. I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying this because I feel guilty. Something inside of me is convinced that this is my fault. Do not ever think I resent Din. I’ve known him the greater length of my life. Since he was a child, and I an adolescent, we trained and learned together.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” you sobbed out. “It doesn’t.”

“I know,” Paz murmured.

You clung against Paz’s armor, tucking your head against his chest plate as you cried against the beskar. It was not comfortable, but it felt wonderful. You’d almost forgotten how comforting physical contact can be.

This did not last long. As soon as you’d become fond of the feeling of being held, you were doused with extreme guilt. You wrenched out of Paz’s strong arms, your feet practically missing the floor.

“I have to sleep,” you sniffed, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears. “I have to think. I have to remember.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Paz assured you.

“It’s easy for you to say that when you aren’t missing your greatest love,” you chastised him, your voice still thick with crying. “I just want to be alone for a while.”

There wasn’t anything Paz could think of to say that could possibly stop you. He nodded, his head just barely inclining, as he stepped out of your path.

You hurried back into your bedroom, not stopping to look past anyone that lingered in the tunnels.

You shut your door and switched the locks into place. You shimmied out of your jacket, setting the leather piece on Din’s side of the bed.

It has been too long that you’ve spent sitting around and moping. Everyday that passes could cost Din his life; you’re determined to find him.

Even with this determination, you’re still at a roadblock. Would thinking harder and longer really solve much of anything?

Every thought and memory is a jumble of total nothingness. There’s not much you can make sense of.

Digging through the drawers in your room, you searched for something you could write with. A spare parchment journal and inkpen had been gathering dust for some time under the bed. The pages are empty and worn, as it had waited all its life to be used.

Your dominant hand began to ache as you held the pen to the parchment. You have no writing calluses, nor any proper amount of practice; even so, you’d have to struggle through it.

You started with writing the first details. Where you’d been going and why. You had to walk back through your memories several times to ensure you could remember every little detail. Cloud city. It had been a bounty on the run from his own debts. Din had mentioned how scarily empty the city’s landing pad was when you returned there to pick up the reward.

He was open to the idea that the city was operating under Imperialites, even if it wasn’t being advertised. But what next? You waited on the ship, soon following Din after he’d relayed his desperate message.

You remember running through the narrow halls, dodging stormtroopers on every side before you had reunited with him.

And then what?

You couldn’t recall. It’d been a grieving hour that resulted in the worst outcome. But that’s all you can remember.

You had your three pages of grueling details written in strained font. The blots of the ink stained through the pages where you rested your pen as you took a beat to remember.

You tossed the journal and pen aside. You’d given up––for now.

You’d have to sleep if you wanted to remember anything else useful enough for your search.

You curled into the bed, underneath the quilts. You tugged the leather jacket into your arms.

The gap in your brain is troubling. It’s one hour out of several you can’t remember; it’s ironic.

Burying your face against the fabric, you could practically feel every part of Din. His warmth; his rough hands. Even the stubble he had been letting grow in.

Life would continue to carry on without him. You know this. Now more than ever.

Of course you know that he could be dead. He could have died mere seconds after your freezing.

All you truly want is to put the gnawing mystery to rest. If he’s dead, you’d want to put his soul at peace and live the rest of your days in memoriam of your love.

A knock rapped at the door. You rubbed your pricking tears into the pillow, leaving behind stains like raindrops, before you slowly moved to answer.

Beyond the door was Ryder.

You couldn’t contain your surprise. You’d definitely not become close with Ryder after waking up from your sleep. At least that didn’t change.

“Good morning,” you hazard. His crimson helmet stared directly into your eyes. Robotically, he held out his arm. A folded parchment envelope was forced into your hands. “I will see you at dinner,” Ryder said sternly before he left.

You watched him jerk down the hallway.

“Curious,” you murmured. He became a blot of red in the distance. You shut your door behind you as you returned to lay in your bed.

A few words scrawled on the outside of the envelope in an elegant script. You took a moment to piece the words together, sounding them out audibly to yourself. “Mar...mare...marriage vows.”

You tore into the envelope.

Din Djarren’s name is scrawled at the top; his own script isn’t as elegant, but it is neat and legible. Each letter has a crooked slant, and his ‘I’s are done up with small horizontal slashes rather than dots.

My vow, the letter reads…

My vow is to never leave her.

To always satisfy her.

To never give her grief.

To keep her warm, or cool her down.

To tenderly nurse her to health during times of illness.

To devote my life to her safety.

To give her the strongest of children.

My eternal promise to Y/n Djarren is, and always will be, to stand loyally at her side. No time of darkness could waver my devotion to her. It has been my greatest pride so save her from Aniri and watch her turn into the strongest, bravest woman I’ve known.

My vow is to love her.

It took a long time for you to complete the page. When you did, you read and re-read it, over and over until you had the entire damn thing memorized.

You had always wondered what he wrote on that night. Where you had only written the simplest of vows, he had thought of every single possible promise he could make. It hurt you so terribly to read these vows, now, and know that he’s gone in the world.

You wiped your eyes with the inside of your wrist. After carefully folding up your letter, you slipped it into the pocket of the leather jacket. You returned to your rest, hiding beneath the blankets with your face burrowed into the leather.

You are comforted to know that Din had at least fulfilled all of his promises. He had died with you loving him and being as equally loved. If there’s anything you want to do, it would be to somehow let him know that you’re safe. You worry that he died feeling guilty and scared for your safety.

Drifting off into a soft lull of sleep, Din’s face danced on the backs of your eyelids.

Once tumbled into the dreamland, you found yourself on a cliff’s edge with Vidia.

She held your hand, still wearing her rags. Her face is void of makeup. Her nose and cheekbones glisten gold under the sunshine that warms her night skin. She’s beautiful as you remembered. It wasn’t a wonder why she’d been chosen to wear the makeup. Her eyes that twinkled with mischief turned to you. Her hair, loose curls in the wind, became brushed behind her ear when she asked you, “Why so sad?”

You cast her a glance. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about,” you told her. “Both you, and my husband.”

Vidia Thorpe laughed. “You care for so much more than me and your old brute of a man. I wish I could meet him someday.”

“I wish you could, too,” you muttered. “You never will.”

“Why?” she asks. “Because I’m dead?” Her pink lips puckered as she laughed loudly, almost doubling over herself.

“Because he’s dead, too,” you say.

“Oh, Annie,” Vidia sighed. “Your husband isn’t dead. He’s just lost.”

“Then how can I find him?” you gasped out. “I can’t even remember.”

“Yes, you can,” Vidia promised. She smiled sweetly, as though she knows something you don’t. “I miss you very much,” she tells you. “You’ve truly grown into a dandy woman.”

“Dandy?” you repeated.

“Yes, Annie,” Vidia grinned. “Dandy.”

She extended her arms towards you, pulling you in for a hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of your hair before saying goodbye and walking towards the edge of the cliff.

You reached after her, your heart catching in your throat as you tried to warn her to watch out for the drop off.

She kept walking.

Walking across the clouds, into the sunshine.

The kiss she had placed over your head planted a seed of the memory. Its roots grow down into the center of your mind. The hazy images played in the sky; the green Mandalorian’s dark, handsome face is cast transparent beneath the sun’s rays. His voice speaks in the distance.

“Tell me your name,” the Mandalorian urges, “or I’ll kill your lover.”

“Vidia,” you spit out. “Vidia Thorpe.”

You felt guilty for using your late best friend’s name this way, but it was the only possible thing you could say to avoid inflicting harm onto Din.

“Intersting,” the Mandalorian mulls. “I’ve never heard of Clan Thorpe. You must be a foundling.”

You couldn’t calculate what to say to that. Recalling every single rule and tradition you’d been taught, you did your very best to withstand the Mandalorian’s intterogation.

“Who took you in?”

“Shut up,” Din shouted.

“I asked you a question, Vidia,” the Mandalorian repeated. “Which clan rescued you? Can’t you see that I mean you no harm? We both have sworn the same creed, as you can clearly see. We share the same armor. I guess I’ve been a bit rude, however. My apologies. I am Boba Fett, the first and only heir of Jango. I am pleased to make your aqquaintence.”

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diamondcamefromhell · 4 years

Text

Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Disclaimer: Yes, I am posting a lot of fics, yes I am okay. This one wasnt a request or anything, but I began to feel sad and anxious about a lot of things, but mostly the political climate at the moment, and when i feel low, i like to imagine my favorite munchkins comforting me, this time, i wrote it down, and i like how it came out, so i am sharing it. however, it does feel super intimate and what not, and I guess i wanted to let you know that it is coming from my literal soul, so pls dont judge the song part, i am not good at that, but i tried x

Warnings: Mentions of war, death. Swearing.

Summry: Y/N wakes up from a nightmare about impending doom of Nilfgaard taking over the continent, but your s/o Jaskier is there to comfort you, and you realize he needs comfort too. Basically some fluffy fluff of two in love, stressed people trying to calm each other down

Word count: 1,832

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up, screams escaping my lips before I could catch them. My shaky breaths turn into clouds, disappearing into the night sky, until my view is filled with a face I know so well. Jaskier. He grabs my shoulders, his grey eyes staring into mine. I manage to take a breath in, before water works begin and he pulls me close. I listen to his heartbeat, as we sit in silence.

“I’m sorry.” I whimper, as he gently rubs my back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Y/N.” His tone is soft and quiet, as he pulls away to look me in the eyes. “You are just scared.”

“I’m scared of nothing, Jaskier.” I argue, wiping away my tears. He sighs, holding me tighter.

“You are scared of Nilfgaard coming this way. You are scared of them wining.” I bite my lip. “You are scared of war.”

I pull away, brining my knees to my chest, isolating myself from the bard, who lets out a sigh in response. His hand lands on my knee, as he gives me a gentle smile.

“I’m scared too.” He admits as I stare at the night sky. Through the trees I can barely see any stars, but moon shines bright. I focus on that, blinking away the tears. “It’s natural to be scared.”

“You don’t have nightmares about what might happen, Jaskier.” I bitterly say, still not looking at him. My voice shakes and I hate it. “You don’t wake up screaming.”

“You are a sensitive soul.” He sits next to me now, wrapping one of his hands around my shoulders. “In a very cruel world.”

“The world is normal.” I close my eyes. “I am just weak.”

“Admitting where you may be weak, my sweetheart,” he rubs my cheek. “Is one of your biggest strengths.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I am weak.” Bard sighs again. I know he disagrees.

“Even if you are, which you aren’t, there is nothing wrong with that.” He lifts his hand from my shoulder to mess with my hair, as I pull away, gently smiling. “If everyone was strong, there would be no such thing as… strong.”

“Geralt would still be strong.” I giggle, looking at my hands on my knees. Jaskier also laughs and I can see his breath turn into a little cloud.

“Geralt will always be strong.” Bard’s voice grows sad. “Even when he’s weak.”

“Do you think Nilfgaard will win?” I ask, resting my head on my palms. “Do you think we are on a losing side?”

“We are on a side of our friends and people we care about.” His voice stays sad, and I feel my heart ache. “Whether they’re losing or not, we are with them til the end.”

“I know that.” I agree, looking at the bard who’s staring at the moon. I wonder if he’s thinking of another song to write, looking at his eyes, this might be the saddest one yet. “But I don’t want to lose them. Lose everyone. Be alone again.”

“Or be dead.” Jaskier tries to joke, and I giggle.

“Yes, silly goose, I guess that too.” I straighten up. “I guess I wish we could help Geralt.”

“It’s his destiny, not ours.” I hate to agree, so instead I stand up, stretching.

The night is quiet and cold. Our small fire has gone out already. I look at the lute near it, trying to remember the last time Jaskier picked up a happy tune. It must’ve been weeks. Ever since Geralt left to claim his Child Surprise, the bard has been ever so sad.

I know they had a fight years ago, I was there. It took them years to make up, and even longer to fully go back to where they were before. Losing such a dear friend again was hard on Jaskier, and I didn’t really know how to help. We both knew, hoped, Geralt would be fine, the mighty Witcher must survive and come back with that child. We were sure of it, but yet scared, as Nilfgaard seemed to bravely move onwards, unafraid, with one goal on their mind.

Get the entire Continent under their rule.

So I started getting nightmares. Jaskier stopped playing his lute. These were dark times.

I go to the instrument, remembering all the times Jaskier tried to teach me how to play this stupid thing. I learnt, eventually, and he loved nothing more but to watch me play, even sing sometimes. We would pass days like this, creating music together.

Needless to say, it’s been ages since we done that.

“Jaskier.” I gently call out, placing the lute on my knees, gently touching the strings. “Sing with me.”

“What?” The bard looks confused, but he comes to me, kneeling before me. His eyes stare at my hands as I string the instrument again.

“I said sing with me.” I manage to smile. “I don’t know if I fully remember how to play this thing.”

“Your hands are placed wrong.” I see a spark in Jaskiers eyes and my cold heart melts a little. He gently corrects my arms, sitting next to me, our knees touching. I close my eyes for a moment, to enjoy the warmth he provides. “What do you want to sing?”

“What if I play, and you sing?” I say, opening my eyes, looking into his. I swear I could get lost in them, seeing galaxies and different worlds there. Feeling safe, finding home. “Whatever your heart desires.”

“We could do that.” He smiles, taking his eyes off me, making me focus back on the instrument. I strum the strings, a rather sad melody comes out, but I don’t try to force a cheerful tune, it felt like lute wouldn’t budge. I steal a glance at Jaskier, who is staring at the moon.

“Upon this full moon we find home, // the one we share with thousands more, // somewhere away, you see the embers, // the war is coming, the sky will tell you. // You look for friend, and hug your lover, // you grab your bow, your shield and arrows, // then reach for me, you know I’ll follow, // into the night, the war is coming.”

I glance at Jaskier again, his eyes closed now. I follow, closing mine too, just feeling the moment.

“You fight a battle that you may lose, // but dearest friend, I’ll lose it too // you’re not alone, just look around // this battlefield is your playground. // Your friends they’re standing next to you, // a sword, an axe, they’re ready too // so don’t you waver, please stay strong. // This war is not that far from over, // until we breathe, we keep on going, // and dawn will come to greet us soon, // my dearest friend, you’ll see it too.”

Jaskier goes quiet, so I stop the lute. The silence doesn’t feel heavy between us, but his song lingers in my bones, wrapping around me, helping me breathe. It gives me hope. I open my eyes to catch bard staring right back at me.

“You will see the dawn.” He assures me, and my heart skips a beat. I feel like a rock has been lifted of my chest, and I truly believe his words.

“Friend?” I tease him, and he smirks. His eyes lighten up.

“Lover.” He leans in for a kiss, and I don’t protest. He tastes like hopes and dreams, a better future. A thousand galaxies. I feel him smile, realizing I am in fact smiling too. I pull away, as he lets out a sigh, and I notice it doesn’t turn into a cloud again. “Maybe you are my destiny, Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, putting lute down, so I could take his hand into mine.

“I can’t imagine my life without you.” He winks at me, making me blush. I know it’s probably too dark for him to see it. “And if I were to lose you, the world would see true calamity.”

“With your horrible break-up songs.” I tease again, and Jaskier laughs, jokingly pushing me away. I hate when he get’s all sweet like that, because he knows how much it actually means to me. Not that I show it. “And destiny did make us meet, but I’d like to think we choose each other.”

“Hm.” He agrees, but I roll my eyes.

“You are not Geralt, don’t hm at me.” He smiles, glancing at our hands.

“Can I say it?” He asks, quietly, and I am not sure if he’s talking to me, or himself. I take my free hand, placing it on his face, making him look at me.

“You can say whatever comes to your silly head, Jask.” I ensure him. He smiles, closing his eyes, leaning in, placing his forehead on mine.

“I love you, out of entire continent, out of all the species, I know, I would always only love you .” His voice is soft. Full of emotion, but soft. We have said I love you before, it wasn’t a first. But we usually reserve this whole saying for special moments. When we feel like our hearts will explode if we don’t express the love. Only when we truly, full-heartedly mean it. I smile, feeling tears prick my eyes yet again.

“I would always, without a doubt, choose you Jaskier. You don’t own my heart, that’s easy.” I feel him smile even more, as he chuckles. “You own my soul.”

“I’ll treasure it.” His lips land on mine again, but this time is more desperate one. Passionate too. Like we want to make sure each other is here, and we are truly not alone. We only pull apart when I run out of breath. I rest my head on his shoulder, my laughter sending a chill down his spine.

“You will make me suffocate if this keeps happening.” I tease, as he hugs me tighter.

“I will not apologize for wanting you so much, Y/N.” He responds to my tease. “You should be sorry.”

“I am sorry you can’t control yourself.” We both laugh, as he pulls me to the ground. I stare at the moon.

“You should get some more rest.” He whispers. “I will keep you close so any scary nightmare demons have to go through me, to get to you.”

“My knight in shining…” I glance at his red outfit, trying to find a word for it. “in shining whatever.”

“Shh.” He silences me, landing a kiss on my forehead, placing me on his chest.

“Don’t silence me.” I argue, already drifting to sleep. I feel his chest shake when he giggles.

“It’s time to rest, my dear.” Now I pull a Geralt, and hm at his words. His heart beat lulls me away.

Before I fully drift, I hear Jaskier silently sing: “and dawn will come to greet us soon, // my dearest lover, you’ll see it too.”

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5lazarus · 3 years

Note

Hurt / Comfort prompt list: 6 and/or 17, please!

so you and Verdi inspired an entire story! these prompts provoke catharsis, and I was thinking of DA characters who desperately need that emotional catharsis, so here we go. Might make more sense if you read these two first, but I think it stands alone. Basically, after escaping Kirkwall, Hawke and friends are stuck in a cave, waiting for a storm to pass. Now they have to figure out how to weather each other. I put it up on AO3, titled Catabasis.

6. “I can’t breathe.” Isabela says, “Can you all fucking chill? I can’t breathe with this shit.” She throws her cards down. “Anyway, I win.” She pulls at her necklace anxiously. Everyone is on edge. Hawke bites back a response. Arguing with Isabela is never worth it, somehow she always wins, just out of pure intransigence. “We’re playing Go Fish,” Varric says, “not Wicked Grace. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rivaini. You haven’t won shit.” Hawke is surprised at his vehemence. “Don’t give me that look, Hawke. You know how much I hate caves.” He drops another card. “So we’ve literally blown up our lives. Blondie’s in a fucking coma. Aveline’s finally lost her job, and I’ve wasted all the money I spent bribing the guards to keep the only woman with principles on payroll. Which, in light of the whole city being burned down and invaded by our favorite choir boy, doesn’t seem the worst of my losses. We’re all pissed off. So? What are we going to do about it?” “We could talk,” Hawke says petulantly, sitting down cross legged. Varric hands them a few random cards. Hawke blinks at them. They aren’t quite sure if they are playing Go Fish, or Wicked Grace, or some unholy game Isabela and Varric have concocted just to mess with Bethany. They’ve done that before, made up a card game and rules on the fly. “What’s there to talk about?” Isabela says. She puts two cards down. “Hit me.” Varric slaps her hand and moves one of the cards sideways. They are definitely making up the rules as they go along. “We’re all pissed off. We’re on the run. Again. And I’ve lost my ship. Yet again. But what does it matter? Just pieces.” “What’s that?” Hawke asks. “Qunari philosophy. My mother was viddathari, you know this.” Isabela puts down another card. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like the Qun, that’s obvious. But it has its moments.” Merrill slinks out of the shadows and curls around Hawke. They put their arm around her and plant a kiss at the edge of her hairline, right above her ear. Merrill shivers, in a good way. Isabela smirks at them. “Anyway, it’s just--none of this shit matters, in the end. You just have to keep moving. Let the waves take you where they will. So Kirkwall’s behind us. Well, at least we know where we’re going. When the rain clears up, we’ll head to Wycombe. I’ve got some friends in the Rivaini merchant community there. We have options. Llomerryn isn’t that awful. Rainy, but smells better than Lowtown, at least. And we’re different about magic, about--well--elves. We won’t be turned away from taverns anymore, I’ll tell you that. If you want to stay with me.” They all fall quiet at that. Hawke wants everyone to stay together, but to what end? What’s the point where they’re falling apart like this? Take them out of the Hanged Man, without a common enemy, and immediately they are all at each other’s throats. Hawke catches Bethany’s eye. They want to try, but they are tired of trying and failing. They stay silent. Fenris says, “The Qunari don’t like magic, and you’re a fool to think Rivain can stay neutral when Tevinter inevitably drags Orlais into their war. And you’re a fool to think the Chantry won’t try to punish the Circles, for what Kirkwall did. You remember what Leliana said. The mages are stuck in a war for their own survival. We will find peace nowhere.” “Always a ray of sunshine,” Varric remarks. He throws his hand into the air, and the cards rain down like confetti. Merrill giggles. He says the unthinkable: “What if we split up?” “Don’t say that,” Hawke says immediately. “We stay together.” They cannot lose them and Kirkwall both. They’ve lost Carver and Leandra and Lothering, that awful mansion, their uncle and cousin too. Kirkwall will never welcome its champion home, not with Starkhaven’s army occupying it, not with the Divine’s Seekers crawling through Darktown tunnels for any hint of rebellion. Hawke has lost their home. They cannot lost their friends too. Bethany and Merrill are not enough. They look helplessly at Isabela, who smiles sadly. Isabela, who has never had much at all: she puts a stop to that though. Isabela fans her cards out in front of her lap. She taps a queen, then looks at Hawke. “We’ll have to keep running, for a long time. Especially if the Divine is after us.” She does not need to say it: I will follow you. She came back even after the Arishok killed the Viscount. She will not abandon them now. Hawke smiles, heartened. They know where they will go, now: Wycombe, then Llomerryn, and onward. “How much further ‘til Wycombe?” they ask. “Fenris? You’ve clearly been there before. What are our next steps?” Fenris says, “We don’t move on until Anders can move. It would be safer to split, but I am reluctant to risk missing a rendezvous.” There it is again, unspoken: I followed you from Kirkwall, and Anders too, and I will not leave me now. Do not leave me now. Fenris takes Anders’ hand into his own and his face twists. Hawke shifts, uncomfortable. Everyone has their tragedy, but it is harder to synthesize and react when the stage itself has been removed. Kirkwall is gone. What is the next act? Varric says testily, “We can’t live on the run forever.” Bethany snorts. They have, from the Marches where their parents met, to Denerim and the Hinterlands back out to Lothering, across the Waking Sea and Kirkwall again. The Hawke siblings can. Varric, though, hates moving. He is as solid as the Stone that birthed him, though he would never admit it. Kirkwall is their home, but for Varric, it is part of him. Hawke feels guilty. They cannot ask him to leave. They cannot ask him to go. Bethany, though, is irritated. “We can. I can. I don’t like it, but it’s better than letting the templars make me Tranquil.” She picks up the cards they have put out and shuffles them anxiously, fans them out, then shuffles them again. “We all have had to run, Varric. All of us except you.” Varric is taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” His tone is less testy and more surprised. Bethany gets bitter, Hawke knows that better than all of them except maybe Anders, but she tends to keep that anger to herself. Merrill murmurs, “Oh, don’t start.” “Maybe I should,” Bethany says. “Maybe we need to be honest about what the next week is going to look like.” She turns around. “Aveline! Come back here. We all need to talk.” Isabela says, “I think you and I define ‘need’ differently, sweetling. Is there really anything more that needs to be said?” Aveline stalks over. She stares at Fenris warily, but pushes herself between Merrill and Varric. It’s weird to see her without her armor, her hair unkempt, and tired. Even after they buried Wesley, Aveline kept herself clean. “What?” she says. “What now?” Bethany says, “We need to decide now if we’re going to split up.” “No,” Hawke says immediately. “Hawke,” Aveline starts, but Hawke’s heart is pounding in their chest, and they feel like their sister has punched them in the stomach. They cannot think to lose them all. Merrill and Bethany aren’t enough, not after fleeing Kirkwall. They need more. They want their friends around them like a bulwark against the storm. The rain picks up outside, thunder shaking the woods, and Hawke feels momentarily reassured. They cannot split up just yet. “Ma vhenan,” Merrill says, “calm down. We’re here, right now.” Hawke looks at her. She looks so weary, so deeply sad. She left Clan Sabrae behind, or they left her, and who knows what they will face, with Sebastian occupying the city? Andrastians don’t like the Dalish, however hands-off and kind Sebastian’s missionary approach is. “Bethany, go on.” Bethany’s eyes flick to Hawke, then to Varric, and then to Avelien. Staring at Aveline, Bethany says, “We’re three mages, two elves, a dwarf, a pirate, and the Champion of Kirkwall. Aveline, you’re the only one of us who can move relatively...unmolested. And together we stick out. When we’d have to pack up, we were able to pass because we were a family, and Andrastian, and Mother was always good at talking to guards and templars. But everyone knows who the Champion is. Everyone knows they travel with a Dalish elf and the apostate who set the mages alight.” Hawke says, “When did you become a poet? Is that what they teach you in the Circle? And here I thought it was just blood magic.” Bethany scowls. “You know I’m right. Stop deflecting. You always do that, since Father died. I wish you wouldn’t. You can’t laugh this off this time. Our house has been destroyed. Our parents are dead. And there’s a warrant for your head, and mine too. And I don’t think that dragon lady is going to save us this time.” Hawke pushes Merrill off and stands up abruptly. “Then what do you suggest, Bethany?” they snap. “I got us out of Lothering, I got us into Kirkwall, I got us fucking out! With the help of a few miracles. So what do you think? Can you conjure something up?” “Hawke, sit down,” Aveline says. “Oh, come off it, Aveline,” Hawke says, exasperated. “You had your tantrum earlier, it’s my turn now.” They laugh at the sour face Aveline pulls. It is all utterly ridiculous, and they rejoice viciously as they make it all worse. “Stop joking? We’re a bad joke. A pirate, two apostates, and the Champion of Kirkwall get stuck in a cave. Got a punchline?” Aveline pulls herself up, and Hawke laughs again. “What? What are you going to do? Hit me? I thought you delegated that to your subordinates. Anybody know what happened to those elves who killed that guard who raped their sister? Aveline? Any guesses?” They step closer, staring right up in Aveline’s face. “Come on, it’s a helluva punchline!” And then Anders croaks, “Enough.” He paws at the collar of his robe. “I can’t breathe.” Fenris hurriedly unbuttons it for him, and Anders smiles at him. Fenris caresses the edge of his jaw, and Anders grabs his arm to level himself upright. Hawke deflates, relieved that he has woken up, and that it is him staring sternly at the lot of them, not Justice. Perhaps they can make it through this after all. “Well,” Aveline says, smiling despite herself. “The revolutionary himself. And not possessed. For once.” Anders grimaces, and gestures. Bethany gets up and pours him a glass of water. He downs it and clears his throat. “Din’mean to interrupt a good screaming match. But.” He rubs at his chest, over his heart, where the templar raised his Smite. “Hi?” He smiles awkwardly. None of them have planned this far. None of this saw this coming, except, perhaps, Anders--and Hawke knows for a fact he was hoping he was going to die in the battle, that fucking fool. Hawke swallows hard, tears springing to the edge of their eyes. These fucking fools: they all thought they were going to die before they got this far, didn’t they? “Don’t be cute,” Hawke says, voice breaking. “I’m mad at you. You were going to fucking let them kill you, you asshole.” They wipe at their eyes, cursing themselves. Bethany is looking at them in shock. Hawke musters a smile, casts about for a joke. “None of us planned this far, did we? None of us thought we were going to survive what Kirkwall was going to throw at us. But we did. And I for one think it’s more a miracle than that dragon dropping out of the sky to save us from the Blight. That we made it out alive. So let’s not throw that away. I don’t want us to separate.” They look at them all, their friends. “You lot are all I have left. All I want. And I don’t want to leave you behind.” Isabela bites her lip anxiously. “Aw, Hawke! And here I was going to sell you all to the Blind Men.” “Shut up and stop ruining the moment, Isabela,” Aveline says wearily. “Can we salvage this?” Varric offers, “Group hug?” Fenris says flatly, “No.” 17. “Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” With that, the tension dissolves, and Hawke begins to laugh. They throw themself down next to Fenris and pull him into a hug, messing his hair. “Gimme a hug!” they say. “I deserve it, I saved your sorry ass.” Fenris says, “Ugh.” He scowls but does not pull away. Aveline huffs and moves to Varric. Hawke can feel Varric glaring at them. They purposefully turn away from the two of them, grinning a tad maniacally at their other friends. The fissures are obvious. Hawke thinks, maybe it’s like the Fade, and they’ll go away if I don’t look at them. Merrill gets up and begins moving around the shelter, pulling together a meal. Bethany follows. Isabela creeps closer to Hawke, Fenris, and Anders, watching the others fondly. “Damn, Anders,” Isabela says. “I didn’t think you were going to be there when you woke up.” Anders winces. “I wasn’t so sure either,” he says quietly. Fenris tightens his grasp on his hand. Hawke worries that he is hurting him. They aren’t quite sure about the two of them, though they had almost felt themself falling off the precipice into love with both men. They have that intensity, that fervor, that adoration that feels akin to worship--but Merrill’s love is calm like the surf lapping at the shore at low tide, and Hawke is not yet another ship to wreck in the storm. Anders and Fenris seem tender, anyway--desperate, but tender. Hawke says, “So. Still alive then?” It comes out more sour than they intend. “Despite your best efforts.” Anders looks guilty. “I didn’t want to die,” he claims. Fenris looks away sharply, hair hiding his face. Anders bites his lip. “It wasn’t--well, I made it. You got me through. The wardens always said I’d go out with a bang.” Hawke starts to laugh, which is better than crying. “Wait until they hear about what you did in Kirkwall!” “Which was not a suicide attempt,” Fenris says meditatively. “So you say.” “It wasn’t. Fenris, you know it wasn’t.” “I do not want to discuss your propensity to self-destruction right now,” Fenris says, voice strained. “But we will.” Anders looks irritated. “It’s not self-destruction, it was basic self-preservation and you know I had no other option--” “Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Hawke suggests. “Somehow. Because we’re stuck in this cave until the rain lets out. And it’s the sort of situation where we need to rappel down, so we’d need to do it together.” “No,” Fenris says. “Hawke, back me up in this.” Hawke really does not want to get involved in this, but they have never been able to tell their friends when to learn some emotional continence. They sigh. “You let us know you were planning something. You told me we needed to prepare to flee. You did not tell me you were planning to blow up the Chantry!” Hawke shrugs. “To be fair, it was a little obvious, with the sela petrae.” Fenris gives them a dirty look. Hawke spreads out their hands. “What? Come on. Sela petrae, drakestones, all those dark murmurings in the sewers--I just thought it was more than a one-man show.” Anders smiles slightly. “Well, you know me. I like to hog the stage. I didn’t want to bring anyone down with me.” “Don’t I know it!” Isabela snorts. “And you were only three drinks in, too….” One day Hawke will have the bravery to ask exactly how the two met, and what they did. Today is not that day. They love their friends, truly, but they are so much, and today is too much, and they do not want to know. Fenris says, “I take exception to that.” He is very still. “‘Bring anyone down with you’--who do you think we are, then? Mere incidental acquaintances?” Isabela bumps Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke blinks. That means she wants them to make a joke. “Acquiantances to murder, you mean,” they try. “Uh. Accessories.” Isabela rolls her eyes. Everyone’s a critic, especially when your friend has tried to kill himself. Anger lights itself in the pit of their stomach. They swallow it, it isn’t productive, but testily, they say, “I helped you find the materials to make the bomb. You should have just told me, instead of trying to be a martyr. You’re my friend. I care about you. If we hadn’t done anything to stop Meredith, Bethany would’ve been made Tranquil too. I thought I made it obvious I supported you, we could’ve worked in tandem with the last of the Viscount’s family--it didn’t have to end like this. There could’ve been another way.” “No there couldn’t!” Anders stands up suddenly, eyes flashing blue. Merrill and Bethany turn around simultaneously from the mouth of the cave, and everyone’s attention is glued to him. Hawke notices Aveline’s hand drift to the handle of her sword, Varric fingers a bottle of knock-out powder he keeps at his waist, even Isabela already has a dagger in her hand. Anders wrestles Justice back. “There wasn’t,” he repeats. “I tried all other ways. Orsino too. Endlessly. When the Left Hand of the Divine came, I knew it was over. The Chantry would rather kill us than let us go. And I wasn’t going to sit down and let them brand me--” “I’m not disagreeing with that!” Hawke snaps. “I just--I’m your friend, Anders. We all are. I’ve known you for almost a decade. You did not have to do that alone. We’re just as implicated as you were ever going to be.” “Leliana used to be better,” Isabela says. “Before the Chantry got its claws in her again. But--we’re here now, aren’t we? Together?” She looks at them all pleadingly. “So do we have to fight? The decision was already made, why talk about it now?” Anders’ eyes flash again, but Fenris grabs his arm in a bruising grip, and Hawke winces. Isabela tends to agree with them, she hates anything that restricts herself and has enough empathy to hate prisons for other people--but Isabela hates conflict, and hates being trapped into defending a position. Anders and Fenris both need clear lines. Hawke puts their head in their hands, frustrated. Varric shakes his head angrily. “Because some of us didn’t want to be driven out of town,” he says. “Because some of us think killing a grand cleric is a fucking stupid way to try to convince people you’re not an evil abomination. Because some of us believe in using our words.” Hawke thinks, well that’s not where I wanted the conversation to go. They open their mouth to disagree, to defend, to protest, but Merrill gets there first. “Varric, please,” Merrill says. She is vibrating with tension. Hawke reaches for her, but Merrill brushes them off. “If it wasn’t going to be Anders, it was going to be me. Or Feynriel. My clan. That lyrium. Or even Hawke, you know Meredith was trying to push them out since they killed the Arishok. Varric, don’t do this. Please.” Varric’s face twists. Hawke is terrified again. He comes across as easy-going, but he disagrees with Anders on most things. Hawke had been afraid Varric and Aveline wouldn’t have fought with them against Meredith; both of them knew she was crazy, but neither of them like risks. They love Kirkwall and its structures, oppressive or not. But both of them are the reason why Hawke has made it thus far, from Lothering to a hole in the wall in the Free Marches, as it pours outside. Aveline got them to Kirkwall, Varric got them out of Lowtown. They’ve only made it this far because of them, and they don’t want to know how far they can go without them. “The pillow,” Varric says. “The fucking pillow.” He laughs shortly. “That’s what gets me, every time. You gave me it. And why? Because you didn’t want to deal with the fucking consequences. Your little revolution, your fucking lover, your clinic--you were ready to give it all away. Because you were done. You wanted your blaze of glory--and now we have to deal with it. Kirkwall, Kirkwall’s gone. The Hanged Man? Probably burnt to the ground. I know they went for your clinic. And Blighted Prince Charming’s seized all our assets and is tracking us like a bloodhound. Because you were pissed at the grand cleric. At the Chantry. So you decided to burn it all down, and leave us in the ashes.” Hawke says, slightly impressed, “Damn.” It is slightly better than what they were expecting, and at this point they are just relieved no one has hit anyone yet. Next to them Merrill relaxes slightly, and she slides her hand into theirs and squeezes it comfortingly. They are upset Anders prepared to die. They are upset he treated his revolution like suicide. They are so utterly relieved Varric is angry about that too, and not that he is still alive. Anders closes his eyes and sags visibly. He hugs himself, nails digging into his arms. Fenris says, “Don’t do that, you’re hurting yourself.” Anders gives him a wretched look. “Isn’t that all I do?” he murmurs. “No,” Varric says. “It isn’t, you asshole. You hang out with me, and that was a good choice. And I suppose Broody was a good idea too. How old are you know? Past the fucking age to know that when you hurt yourself, you hurt the people around you. Us. And I might not agree with you, I might really want to hit you right now--” “Varric,” Fenris says warningly, and Varric puts his hands up. “I didn’t say I was going to do it,” he says. Hawke shoots him an amused look: while Fenris is around, they finish silently. “But, anyway--I don’t actually want you to hurt. Else I wouldn’t have sunk so much cash into keeping the Carta off your back. Especially when you helped out with the strike. You owe me your fucking life. Live it.” Anders says, “I didn’t know you cared.” Varric says, “Fuck you. Hawke, I have terrible taste in friends.” “Don’t look at me,” Hawke says mildly. “I’m terrible too. I’m the one who went digging around in shit to get the explosives for him.” “So what now?” Isabela says. “Are we all good? Because the rain’s stopped, and we should get moving. Anders? You’re not going to blow yourself up? And Fenris, you’re not going to tear out Aveline’s throat? And Bethany--” “What?” Bethany calls from deep in the storeroom, where she is packing their bags with Aveline. “I’m staying out of this!” “You do that, carry on,” Isabela says. “Keep doing that.” They pack up, Fenris and Merrill fretting quietly over exactly how to write the apology in Elvhen and what wall on which to pin it up. Fenris speaks the dialect the clan whose storeroom they borrowed uses, but doesn’t know how to use their alphabet, and while Merrill knows the characters, she puzzles over the words. Hawke has managed to pick up over the years that Elvhen and its dialects are based on intent, and change according to the context. The two of them can’t seem to decide on how to convey the context of the situation, and disagree on what they are enmeshed in anyway. As the others bustle about packing, Varric walks to Hawke and gestures at the two arguing elves. “If I write about this,” he says, “I’m skipping over this part. Because I have completely lost the plot.” Hawke heaves their pack onto their back and whistles for their mabari to join them. “We’re all fucking pissed at each other, but we know that’ll pass. We’re not separating.” They smile. “We’re getting through this together, somehow.” Varric says, “I hope you’re right, Hawke. Because I’m not so sure anything is resolved.”

#ellie-effie #catabasis #prompt #hawke #da2 #varric #anders #fenris #merrill #bethany #aveline #isabela #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #fanfic

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years

Text

Til The End

*Not my Gif*

Requested: Yes

Post Date: 8-29-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader, Monty Green x Reader (Platonic),

Word Count: 2.4K

~Master List~

Requests are open for the 100

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the heartbreak of losing one of your best friends. Jasper, Monty and you had been best friends for what seemed like forever. They knew you better than anyone and refused to leave your side. That’s why when Jasper opted out before Praimfaya you considered joining him and trying to convince Monty to stay. He was about to as well, just for you and Jasper. That’s what snapped you back into realizing the situation. Monty was willing to die for you two but you didn’t want him to. You said goodbye to Jasper, 1/3 of your little family, trying one last time to convince him to leave but he refused. You kissed his cheek before leaving hand in hand with Monty and Harper, ignoring the need to let the tears out. You pushed away any feelings, not letting yourself even think about losing your best friend until you couldn’t anymore.

You were in space once again staring at the roof in your room. 5 years and you had to be stuck here. Jasper was gone, Clarke was gone, everyone was on earth while you and the others launched yourselves into space. Now you had all the time in the world to think about your best friend.

“Knock Knock.” Monty said as he leaned onto the door. You pushed yourself to your elbows, letting you get a good look at the man before scooting over and patting the bed. Within a second he was by your side, pulling the blanket to cover both of your bodies.

“It’s weird being back here.” You whispered as he nodded his head, not saying anything. “It’s even weirder being back here without him.”

Monty grabbed your hand giving it a little squeeze as you quickly wiped away a tear.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t convince him.” He admitted as your heart broke you turned to look at him, pushing yourself up as you stared down at him.

“It wasn’t your fault. Jasper was gone way before that. Way before I should’ve realized.” You mumbled as you played with his fingers, avoiding any glances into his eyes. Monty sighed as he pulled you back down onto the bed, letting you push yourself into his side as he wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your arm.

“It’s not on you Y/N.” You nodded as the room got quiet and held onto the one thing keeping you grounded right now. Your head was pressed onto his chest as you closed your eyes, remembering your final moments with Jasper before turning to look towards Monty. He was staring at the ceiling, a light gloss in his eyes before catching you looking. He was about to ask what’s wrong before you spoke.

“Thank you for getting me out of there.” You barely finished your sentence before Monty cut you off.

“Always. Y/N you and Jasper are my best friends. You’re my sister. I wasn’t going to let either of you die without trying something.” You felt your heart warm at his words. Truth was you wanted nothing more than to believe it. Monty was like a brother to you, always there to save your ass. You didn’t know what you’d do if you lost him.

You stuck your pinky towards Monty, something you’ve done since you were younger. “Best Friends?” You asked as Monty smiled, hooking his pinky with yours and giving it a little squeeze.

“Til the end.” You fall back onto his chest gently as he runs his hand up and down your back, making you feel complete for the first time since Jasper died. It wasn’t long until both of you fell asleep in the steady silence of the room.

After spending a few years on the ark again your and Monty’s relationship grew and things became more clear. Jasper was always going to be one of your best friends but Monty was always the one who made you feel at home. He was your brother long before that day he first called you his sister. You were family and for the first time its finally feeling like it again. You two would mess around and joke all the time, mainly you joking about his alge. But there are also moments where you guys show how much you actually care about each other. Like when you had “the talk” with Harper, making both of you and her burst out laughing in the end and hug. Then, when you and Bellamy finally got together after secret pining since the drop ship, Monty pulled him aside within a day of your first kiss with him to give him his version of the talk. Needless to say you didn’t think you could’ve seen Bellamy more terrified after talking with Monty. It made you laugh so hard Bellamy had to pick you off the floor.

“It’s not funny Y/N.” He mumbled as he took another glance towards Monty who stood with his arms crossed and brow raised at him.

“Bell, he’s just protective. He doesn’t want me to get hurt, but he knows you’re probably the last person to hurt me.” You yelled more towards Monty as he put his hands up in surrender. You gave him a sweet smile as Bellamy wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down to kiss you, only groaning and resting his forehead on yours as Monty coughed in the background. You laughed into Bellamy’s chest before leaning up to land a kiss on his clenched jaw. His tough demeanor slacking as he looked down at you and all Monty could see was the love in his. You were right, Monty knew Bellamy would protect you just as much as he would.

The next few years however turned sour for you and your space family. You landed back on earth after 6 years, finding out Clarke was alive, finding out how everyone turned out in the bunker, going into a battle over the once spot of green on the entire freaking planet. It was way to much. But you had Monty by your side and Bellamy in your hand as the world was basically ending for the millionth time and you all headed back into space.

You stood at the window of the new ship, pressing your hand against the glass as someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist as you leaned into their hug, knowing immediately it was Bellamy. His head rested on your shoulder and you closed your eyes, letting the feeling of him around you take over before the group took the next step towards survival.

“You ready?” Bellamy whispered in your ear as you sucked in a deep breath, turning around and nodding.

“Yeah, I could use a nap.” You joked as he smiled, leaning down to kiss your lips one more time before grabbing your hand and leading you to the cryosleep room. Monty was already there talking with Raven as you and Bellamy enter the room. You look down at the chamber in front of you, seeing the words Y/N Y/L/N on the screen as you looked up at Monty. He could sense your reluctance, knowing that Bellamy and him were probably the only ones who could convince you to get in.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s like a quick nap, then you wake up 10 years later.” He said as he grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding Bellamy’s. You both them both a hug as you climbed into the chamber, looking up at your boyfriend then towards your brother.

“Best friends?” You whispered and stuck your hand out to him. He laughed before connecting your pinkies, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Til the end.” You gave them both one more smile each as your chamber closed, easing you into a sleep you didn’t know would last so long.

Light stormed into your sights as your chamber opened, a familiar voice flooding your ears for the first time in a long time. “Welcome back Y/N.”

Your eyes adjusted as Bellamy’s face came into view, making you smile. You pushed yourself up, taking his outstretched hand as you landed on your feet. You looked around the room, furrowing your brows a little when Monty wasn’t there at first but figuring he was doing something else and that was why Bellamy was the only one waking you. You grabbed a hold of Bellamy’s cheek, bringing him down to meet your lips. He kissed back until neither of you could breathe and you needed to pull apart. You rested your head on his chest as you hugged him tight. He kissed your head before you looked up at him, seeing a smile you knew when he had bad news.

“What’s wrong Bell?” You asked as you separated. Bellamy tried to hide his sadness as he took your hand leading you out of the room.

“Come on, there’s something you need to see.” And with that he pulled you out to a room with a big screen as you looked around the room again.

You pulled on Bellamy’s hand, causing him to stop walking. “Bellamy, where’s Monty?” You asked before Clarke’s blonde hair caught your attention and she turned around to reveal someone you most definitely didn’t remember. “And who are you?”

He took a step towards you with such a familiar smile that you worried. He looked at Bellamy when he shook his head and Bellamy turned to you. “This is Jordan. He’s...” he started as he turned to look at the guy before meeting your Y/E/C eyes. “He’s Monty and Harpers son.”

You thought your heart stopped. It didn’t feel like you were breathing as you refused to look away from Bellamy. “Mon didn’t go into cryo?” You whispered as your voice cracked a little at the end. Bellamy pulled you into a hug wrapping his arms around you but you just stood there and shook your head. “How long were we asleep?”

“125 years.” Jordan says as you look at him. He gave you that same smile from earlier as you felt your stomach drop. You grabbed a hold of your stomach as you pushed out of Bellamy’s embrace. You mumbled an ‘oh my god’ as you raced out of the room. You dashed through the first room you found and your eyes scanned around before landing on a trash can. You fell to your knees, throwing up anything and everything in you into the bucket as someone was by your side, pulling your hair back and rubbing your back. When you were done throwing up you rested your arm over the can, lying your head on top. Bellamy took a seat next to you as your sleeve began to get wet with your tears and sobs escaped your mouth. He pulled you into his lap, letting your head fall into his neck as he tried to calm you down. Your cries got worse as much as he tried.

“I lost them both! I lost them both!” You screamed into his neck, causing Bellamy to shut his eyes after he tried to blink back his tears, failing miserably. His hand cupped the back of your head as he rocked you in his arms. Your cries turned into soft whimpers as you found your voice again. “He looks so much like Monty. He’s got Monty’s face and Jaspers name. He’s got...” You shook your head as your breathing quicken, stopping the words in your throat. Bellamy understood completely as he placed his lips delicately onto your head and you found your breath again.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N. I promise, you’ll be okay.” He said as you nodded, trying not to say anything as you try to figure out what to do.

“How did I lose them both?” You whispered, an unsettling contrast from your sobs a second ago. Bellamy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how it happened. You lost two of the most important people to you and he didn’t know how to help. “Please don’t let me lose you too.”

He made you look up at him, seeing the red puffiness matching both of your eyes but more showing in yours. “You won’t. I promise Y/N, you won’t ever lose me.” You stayed with him for a few more seconds before you pushed yourself up, helping Bellamy up before looking down at the trash can.

“Good thing that wasn’t sitting there for 125 years.” You joked as Bellamy let out a breathy laugh, nudging your arm. You wiped away any last tears as you smiled up at him and led him out of the room and back towards Clarke and Jordan. Jordan’s head shot to you as soon as you entered and you smiled at him. Relief flooded him as he returned the small gesture. He was even more happy when you didn’t run away when he approached you.

“Do you think we could talk?” He was eager to get to know you and you couldn’t help but see Monty’s enthusiasm in him. It made your heart warm. You nodded your head as you followed him out, walking about the ship with him until you landed in front of the window you stared out of right before you went to sleep. He turned to look at you before hesitating in his words. “You know, my dad told me stories about you all. You were kind of my favorite.”

“Really? And why’s that?” You asked as you smirked at him, crossing your arms with wide eyes.

He leaned onto the window with his shoulder glancing into space before explaining. “You loved him. Undying loyalty. He uh, he went to see you when you were sleeping, he told me that you were his family, you meant everything to him. He told me to watch out for you.”

You swallowed thickly as you nodded, letting your head drop a little as you copied his stance. “That sounds like my brother.”

“He also taught me this.” He said as you furrowed your eyes, glancing down as he stuck his pinky finger out. “Best Friends?”

You froze, staring down at the action you’ve only ever done with Monty and Jasper. Jordan was still giving you the smile and you saw both Harper and Monty in him. He was family. You didn’t realize you were crying until the hand he wasn’t offering came up to wipe a tear away and you took that moment to hook your pinky with his. “Til the end.”

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