#kel will break your remaining bones

[ask-emoripals]

uhhh idk it's a figure?? i'm not really into this stuff but please show your collection or else uh i'll kidnap mari /j

📖: If you do that Sunny will definitely flay you alive for kidnapping his older sister. I’m not getting the figure if I don’t know what it is, and you’re Not getting a peak at my collection!

🎹: My little brother, inspite of his knife collection, is very responsible with them and only uses them as self defense…… but making sure I’m not kidnapped would count as self defense, so good luck.

📖: H-how long were you here?

🎹: During the part where you talked about my baby brother flaying anon alive, why? *Winks and makes a smug grin* There’s really no shame on having a collection my ever lovely Hero.

[lilyharvord]

Song of the Phoenix Part 7

WHoa, it’s been a haut minute since I updated this fic. But now it’s gonna be fun. We meet some new characters and they are very important. 

Find Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6 

tag list: @evangelineartemiasamos @mareshmallow @redqueenetwork @farleydiana @whatsup-gorls @scxrletguardsdawn @freaky-freiday 

(/Coriane/) I don’t remember falling asleep, nor do I remember them stopping and switching out the person guarding us. My head bumps the back of the truck as we stop though and I snap awake, thinking everything must have been a dream that I’m going to wake up from and laugh at how silly the whole thing was. 

My heart beats erratically as I take in the darkness in the back of the truck. Mare is unnaturally still next to me. Braving the silent stone, I reach through the net to touch her shoulder. “Mare?” I whisper to her, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes are open though, and I can see the whites of them in the darkness. Whatever has happened to her though, she is not recovering from it. 

“Mare?” I whisper her name again, panic rising into my tone. Outside of the truck I can hear people approaching the back. She doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to breathe. The man in the back of the truck with us watches carefully. He scans the way Mare lies still as death, and how I frantically try to wake her.  She’s the physical weak link, but I’m something far worse. 

“Please,” I choke to her when that thought passes through my head. I don’t know how much good it will do though. If she didn’t respond to me before, pleading with her won’t change anything. 

Four people with lanterns appear. In the weak light cast by one of them, I can see that two of them are huge men, and two of them are women. They look us over for a few minutes, and the silence stretches until I wasn’t to scream. One of the women huffs though and says, “I thought you said they were important?”  

“The one in the net is, you idiot. That one’s Mare Barrow.” 

“I don’t recall her being important.” 

“You know! Mare Barrow, The Little Lightning Girl, the girl that brought down the King of Norta.” He says it and spits to the side, as if the words are poison in his mouth. 

My stomach flips in surprise, and I tense before slowly drawing my hand away from Mare. The woman who had asked the initial question looks me over before stepping into the truck and holding the lantern up to my face. She has a thick scar that drags from her temple down to the middle of her cheek. I dont want to know how or where she got it. 

I shy away from her as she edges closer and sneers. “This one looks pathetic.” 

Something in me shrieks in protest, but I do the thing I’ve always been good at, and drop my eyes in shame. She snickers at my reaction and says, “Bring them out then. He’ll take a look at them and tell us what to do.” 

Scar face grabs my arm and drags me toward the end of the truck bed. I tug against her hold, and try to fumble over the right words to say to her. She laughs at my attempts and tosses me out on to the ground. I catch myself on my hands and knees, and scratch up my palms on dry grasses. She drops with catlike grace to land behind me, her hand latching onto the collar of my shirt. I glare at her over my shoulder and say, “You won’t get—”

“Don’t try to tell me that, we’ve got you hundreds of miles away from Ascendant. Your best bet sweet thing, is to keep your mouth shut.” She says with a rapier sharp grin before grabbing my arm as well and dragging me to my feet. I feel like a small animal being manhandled. 

A thud behind me make me turn around though. The two men sneer down at Mare in the net before smirking at each other and dragging her like a fresh catch behind them. 

“Don’t let them hurt her, she’s injured already, please.” I plead, but the woman simply huffs at my words and tugs me back around to get me moving again. I try to protest her hold but she grips my arm so tight it feels like the bone is going to break. Strongarm, I realize, when I see the veins sticking out in her forearm. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows in the heat, but she walks like it doesn’t bother her. My mouth feels like its had cotton shoved in it, and already i beads of sweat run down my back. 

In the darkness in front of me, I see a set of fires. As we approach them, the tops of massive tents come into focus. The shadows dance on the edge of them, and my stomach rebels as I remember the stories Jessabel used to tell us about slavers who took women that wandered the streets at night and turned them into meat or something worse. I bucked immediately at the thought. Scar sneers and spits, “Come on, you’re worse than a spooked deer.” 

She drags me into the middle of the encampment, and people peel out of their tents, looking at us in surprise. I spot dirty children clutching their mother’s legs, and young men trying to stand to the front and look tough. A village, this was a village of sorts. That eases my panic a bit. At least I’m not about to be pit on a spit and roasted for tomorrow’s lunch. 

My attention is immediately grabbed by what is in front of me. In the center of the camp is a massive gold and red tent. There are two guards stationed outside of the entrance and they immediately dive inside as we approach. 

Scar face pauses in front of it before kicking the back of my knees to bring me to a kneel. She grabs my wrists and binds them with a worn piece of leather before pulling the knot so tight my skin barks in protest. Pinching my face against the pain, I watch her disappear into the tent as well. 

Mare is dropped next to me and the men continue to stand behind her like she might try to get up. Her eyes are open though, and they finally seem to be in the present because she looks around sluggishly. 

“Mare,” I hiss her name, testing my bonds weakly. One of the men kicks my side, hissing, “Quiet!”


“Forin, let’s not kick our guests.” 

I turn my eyes in the direction of the new speaker. He steps out from inside the tent with Scar Face. He’s young, goodness he can’t be older than Cal. In the firelight, his copper hair and grey eyes cut an imposing figure. He’s dressed like the rest of the soldiers in what could be a ragged uniform. Even in that uniform though, I can tell he is some form of nobility. The way he stands, the way his eyes slowly drag over me scream court trained. Perhaps I can get through to him, make him understand that everything is a mistake and he should release us. 

He steps toward me, the fire light bringing his handsome features into focus. His eyes never leave mine as he asks, “Reece tells me that you’re a whisperer, is this true?”

I purse my lips, and swallow my answers, deciding that I want to be stubborn. Forin, one of the men that dragged Mare, hisses and grabs me by my hair so tightly it makes me shriek in pain. “He asked you a question!”

The new comer does not step to my defense again, instead he watches me with narrowed eyes. My own water as Forin digs his fingers deeper into my scalp until I whimper. “No! I’m a singer!”

“A singer?” He asks in disbelief, and I nod weakly, even though that causes more pain to explode across my scalp. I crane my neck to try and relieve some of the pressure on my head before choking, “Yes, I can… I can only make you do what I want if I sing and make eye contact.” 

“There aren’t many singers in the country Sire, the only one that I know of is the one in Ascendant. The one Kels told us about.” Scar face speaks from behind him, her massive arms crossing across her chest. He nods in response and that spark of familiar information makes me cry, “My brother! That’s my brother!”

Scar face laughs at my outburst, her eyes glinting wickedly in the dim light. “Please, your lies are pathetic.” 

“His name is Julian, he’s my brother!” I argue, only for my words to be cut off as Forin squeezes my hair again. 

“Enough of your lies, you little snake.” His grip tightens to the point that I release a strangled cry of pain. Next to me, Mare groans and the other guard launches himself on top of her, pressing her face into the ground. She can barely move, and they think she can fight them all off? How powerful do they think she is? 

The man holds his hand up in a silent order. Forin grumbles, his grip loosening until he drops my head. I let myself fall forward until my forehead is resting in the dirt, while I sob softly. I was as useless as a rock. Actually, I was more useless than that, you could at least throw a rock and hurt someone. I was more like a petal. Maybe not ever that, because petals could be poisonous. Elara had always been right about me. I was weak, pathetic, and useless. 

The dirt near me crunches and slowly someone crouches down. I shy away from their touch, wanting to just curl up in a ball and disappear into the darkness again. 

“Get her inside, take the other one to the shed and lock her in there. Keep the net on her. We can’t have any accidents.” 

“Sire!” Forin cries, but the silence that follows his exclamation tells me that there will be no argument. Strong hands grab my arms and yank me to my feet before dragging me forward toward the tent. I flip my head around and watch as two new soldiers grab Mare and drag her in the opposite direction. “Wait,” I choke, as I try to pull away and go after her. Where are they taking her? Where is the Shed? Are they going to torture her? 

I’m forced forward and through my tears, I can see the young man pulling the tent flap of the massive tend aside and disappearing inside ahead of us. I takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brighter interior, and I squint as I look over my surroundings. The interior seems to so out of place with where we are. Beautiful mahogany furniture decotates the space, with books and maps stacked on every available space. In the face corner, almost hidden behind everything is a small cot with a gas lamp on a crate. 

The guards leave me standing and take hesitant steps back on a silent order I assume comes from the young man standing before us. A second later though, he whispers, “leave us.” 

There is a soft hiss from Scar Face, but she follows the order nonetheless. I quiver as she passes by me, her grumbles clearly audible under her breath. The tent flap slides into place and we’re left in silence. The only thing I can hear is the soft drumming of fingers on a desk. I keep my eyes on my bound hands though, terrified of looking up. 

“What is your name?”

I tense and shake my head in response to the question. The drumming stops, and I hold my breath until it continues again. We remain in silence, until his voice fills it. He’s still carefully guarded, but softer when he speaks. “I will give you mine then. We’re cut from the same cloth and you deserve my name at least.” 

I bring my eyes up, just enough to look at him through my lashes. He’s standing behind a massive mahogany desk, littered with papers, books, and a few almost nonexistent candles that are lit. Julian would be disgusted at the candle wax that has leaked onto the covers of the faded volumes. 

He comes from behind the desk slowly, and I take a step back in fear, but he pauses at the front of the desk and leans against it. With a slight dip of his head, he says, “My name is Proteus Valazt, and I am the king of the Raiders.”  

That draws my eyes and a slight incline of my head. He nods with me and then says, “Yours now, it’s only fitting. I’m sure you’re not versed in the court etiquette—“

“My name is Coriane Jacos, and I …” I trail off, hesitant to say my title, wondering if it would make things worse for me if I told him. He raises a brow expectantly, and I drop my eyes and head again. “It doesn’t matter what I was.” 

He shrugs, as if the information truly doesn’t matter. He turns to one of the candles behind him and says, “Do you understand that you are our hostage?”


“I understand that in war there are certain rules to hostages. You are not harm them for one.” 

He chuckles darkly and raises his eyes to me with a smile that the shadows play in. “We’re not at war with Montfort. They are at war with us.” 

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I watch the rapid, mercurial change to his features. I’ve told lies, I know what they look like on people’s faces. I’d schooled my face to hide the unhappiness underneath my skin for years. I know all the tells. 
 If he realized that he’s given me knowledge about himself, he doesn’t show it, instead he gracefully makes his way back behind the desk and sinks into the chair. He watches me carefully until I say softly, “You don’t believe that.” 

His expression changes immediately from confident, to surprised, to composed. He’s young and hasn’t completely learned how to control those changes in his expression. I blink at him and he leans back in his chair, and brings his fist up to support his chin. It takes a moment for him to realized that I am more than just another silver, I have been in a court somewhere, and I know the games, at least some of them. 

“Who are you?” He asks carefully again. I shake my head and drop my eyes. 

“Forgive me, I’ve overstepped,” I try to back pedal, my fear that he’ll figure out the truth coming through. He narrows his eyes and says, “You’ve served in a court, I want to know which one.” 

There was no harm in leaving him with a little information, not enough to gain the truth though. “I lived in the Nortian court for a while.” I give the piece willingly, and his eyes narrow even further. 

“My father helped a princess from the Lakelander court a few years ago. She came bringing words of peace, and a promise that the King of Norta was going to help us conquer Montfort. Here we are years later though, missing a king, and lacking support.” 

“I’m not that support.” I murmur, and he laughs with a shake of his head at my response. 

“I don’t need to see to know that.” 

He rises from his chair, settling into his new position in the conversation. I move away from him as he walks passed me and digs through the drawers for something behind me. When he returns, it’s with a knife. I pull back in horror, but he grabs my wrists and holds me in place. He’s considerably taller than me, and has no problem manhandling me. 

“No, wait, please—“ I cry, closing my eyes and tensing until I feel the metal between my wrists and hear the near silent snip of the knife cutting through leather. I crack open my eyes and watch him slowly saw at the bonds on my wrists. He works in silence, the callouses on his fingers rubbing against my skin as he does so. 

The leather falls away and I pull my wrists to my chest, rubbing at them softly, trying to sooth the skin. He slips the knife into the holster on his belt, and watches me carefully back away into a corner of the tent, trying to put distance between us. He sits on the edge of the desk again in response, staring at me before saying, “If we succeeded in our effort to over throw Montfort, I would need to know how to function on the political stage. So, my father made me memorize all the kings and queens growing up. There was a singer queen in Norta.” 

My stomach plummets to my knees and I swallow past the sandpaper feeling in my throat. I can’t speak though. Not as he crosses his arms comfortably and says, “Coriane Jacos, the Singer Queen, that’s what they called her. The rumor was that she whispered honey in the prince’s ear and he married her within the week.”

I want to argue in my defense, but I simply press deeper into the shadows, trying to hide. He won’t let me though, his words light fireworks, igniting my past and showing exactly who I am. 

“She gave birth to a son, Tiberias Calore the Seventh. She died a year later, and a Whisper Queen took the throne in her place.” 

“Please—“

“So who are you Coriane Jacos? A queen, a singer, or a corpse?”

My skin crawls at the last word and I whisper, “Nothing, I am nothing.” 

“No one is nothing,” he reasons, and looks down at his boots, his lip curling for a moment in distaste. I wish more than anything that I were a Haven, so that I could blend into the shadows and disappear forever. 

“You’re one of the Living Dead, aren’t you?” He asks the next part softly. My reaction brings a smile to his features, and he says, “Yes, we have them too. They’re growing in number, rising as fast as they die. In fact… my scouts were reporting a change in the weather as you were being brought here. The men I lost in the battle might just walk into this camp tomorrow morning.” 

I wheeze for breath, remembering Mare’s words from earlier. They shouldn’t have this many men, their numbers were too great. 

“Do you know why it’s happening?” I whisper breathlessly, and his eyes widen in surprise, before he shakes his head infinitesimally. 

“Do you?”

I shake my head in reply, stepping out of the corner just slightly. His lips draw into a tight line, as he replies, “It’s not stopping anytime soon though.” 

I hesitant to take another step forward, drawn in by the conversation, and say, “Montfort might know something. The Premier… she might know something.”  

He sneers at the mention of Rori, but his next comment is cut off by Scar face returning, almost out of breath. She looks between the two of us, and then spots the leather strap on the floor. Her eyes narrow a fraction of an inch before she looks up and says, “It’s Harv, he’s almost left us.” 

Proteus is up in seconds and starts for the exit to the tent. He freezes before turning to look at me, as if he just remembered I was there. I try to press myself back into the shadows, but I have a feeling I will never be able to hide from him. “Grab her, Doria. She cant stay here.” 

Doria crosses the space to me, and I try to put up a fight, but she wrestles me into movement. I don’t dare drag my feet, not now that Proteus has cut my bonds. That was a quiet blessing, and I want to think that it’s a promise of some sort. I’m not sure of what yet though. 

I’m dragged through the camp, which seems to have resumed some resemblance of nighttime activity. The children run around the camp fires, shouting and making up games as they go. Elders hush them, and other younger members chatter. But they all bow their heads when Proteus walks by. A hush seems to follow him too. I remember that hush, it makes my skin crawl now, just like it used to when I walked next to Tibe through the crowds. 

He pushes a tent flap aside, which has a massive swath of red paint across the front of it. Doria pushes me inside, and I struggle against her grip, and then against the bile that rises in my throat at the stench. I gag, and choke for a second, while my eyes adjust to the limited light. Next to my feet a woman groans, her body covered in white boils that ooze. I back up into Doria’s chest, trying to put distance between myself and the woman on the ground. Another one to my right groans though, a child from the looks of it, who face is covered in so many of the boils that it doesn’t even look human anymore. 

Doria pushes me to the back, and the further we go, the worse it gets. There are no sounds back here, the people here are the ones closest to death. Here are the people praying for it to end. 

Proteus pauses above a young man and slowly drops to his knees, his facade cracking as he does so. I can barely hear the wheeze of the man’s breaths. His eyelids are swollen shut with the boils, and his body shakes with every exhale. Proteus reaches a hand out only for a nurse to hurry over and whisper, “Your Majesty, I’m sorry, but you can’t--”

His hand hovers over the man’s skin for a moment and he whispers, “Harv, can you hear me?” 

The man doesn’t move, and the nurse bends down to whisper something in Proteus’s ear, her voice gentle. She’s not a healer though, or else the people in here would not be this sick. Surely they have a healer though?

One of the boils pops when Harv opens his mouth and a yellow pus oozes out. I gag and turn to rush from the tent. Doria lets me go, her fingers trailing on my arm. I barely make it out of the tent before I’m sick. A few people look up from nearby, and pull their children away. I lean against one of the poles, trying to catch my breath. I’d never seen anything like that. Not even in the worst of the red villages. Then again, I’d never gone that deep into them. Mare might know more, she said she grew up in the Stilts. It was the poorest, I knew that much. 

A while after I finish vomiting, Doria and Proteus emerge from the tent. I look up, and Proteus glances down at me in surprise, as if he was shocked I was even still standing there. Then his eyes harden and he orders, “Take her to one of the tents, have them burn her clothes, and wash her. I won’t let one of my hostages die.”


Doria nods and grabs my arm before dragging me away and toward another one of the tents at the edge of the encampment. A few women sitting outside of it stroking a small fire look up when she approaches with me. They rise as one, and look me over before pulling the tent flap aside. I can’t even bring myself to protest as they drag me inside. (////)

Hours later, after I’ve been scrubbed raw and doused in oils and soaps until I smell like a perfume parlor, the tent flap shifts. The ladies brushing my hair pull back in surprise and bow their heads deeply. I glance up in the shockingly clean mirror to see Proteus standing behind me. 

“Out, all of you.” He orders, but he almost doesn’t need to. The minute the first word leaves his mouth, they are rushing to leave, whispering like birds as they flee. I straighten my shoulders as he approaches me from behind, internally I tremble. I have no idea what his ability is. He’s too lean to be a strong am, but that wouldn’t stop him from being anything else. Tightening my hands into fists on the thin fabric of the robe they gave me, I demand, “What was that?”

He sinks into one of the chairs in this tent, his eyes closing almost instantly. “We don’t have a name for it.” 

Information, no bonds, and he sits in my presence like this? I truly am next to nothing in where threats are concerned. I didn’t feel like a hostage though. What was his end game? 

“Where are your healers?”

“Died first.” He exhales before tilting his head down and opening his eyes again. My mouth goes dry at the words. I must pale considerably, because when he continues, it’s softly, “It’s not airborne, that’s all we know. It’s spread through contact. But we can never be too careful.” That explains the loss of the healers. They would have had to touch the people they were healing. 

He looks bone tired in that position, and so very young. I remember Cal telling me that he was king for a day, and that it had been miserable. I wonder if this is what he had looked like during that day. 

“What are you going to do with me and Mare?”  

His lips twist in distaste. “I don’t know.”

“What would you trade us for?” I ask softly as I turn on the stool to face him. His eyes glint before he smiles ruefully and says, “An end to Montfort. They forced my people out, sent us into these hideous plains to try and eke out a living. All because we refused to bow to their will.” 

“Their will is good. The people are free, there is no hatred and…”

“You didn’t look hard enough. There is hatred. It’s there, but it’s rooted deeply and hidden carefully.” 

My lips draw into a tight line. It’s a poor excuse, and a poor argument. He probably has never even seen Montfort. If his father, and his father before him had been forced out. His hatred is breed in him. He probably doesn’t even truly believe in fighting this little campaign. “They could help you,” I whisper, “they could send healers… people to help.” 

“Their healers would die just like ours did.” 

“Not the ones like Mare… the Ardents. They’re stronger than silvers.” 

He raises a brow at my words as I stand slowly and take a hesitant step toward him. “Trade us for healers, for medicine, and food, and water. Trade us to save your people, not chasing an ideal.” I have no idea if this will work, if he will listen to me. I’ve seen a glimmer of the truth beneath his façade though. He does not want this lofty goal that he claims to serve. He wants something else. I don’t need to be a whisper to see that. 

He raises a brow at me, his expression searching for ground before he says softly, “I can see why your people loved you Coriane Jacos.” 

I reel in surprise. My people had never loved me. They had feared me, and they had feared my ability. Even then, they never saw me. I had been Queen, but I had been a shadow. I barely made appearances. I wish I had though. I wish I had been stronger. That I could have found it in myself to be happy. Maybe I could have been there for Cal, maybe Elara would have never dug her claws into Tibe. I could have had strength and power. I just wasn’t strong enough to pretend. 

I crouch down slowly and reach for his hand. He starts when I take it gently and whisper, “You have the chance to save your people. Trade us for what you need to save them.” 

For a moment, I think he actually contemplates my words. His lips draw into a tight line a heartbeat later though, while his brows draw together. Yanking his hand from mine and rising from the chair, he growls, “You couldn’t possibly understand what has happened. My father lost his life fighting for our people to live once more. I will not be the one to let him die in vain.” 

He storms out of the tent, leaving me dumbfound. Rising quickly from the dirt though, I rush for the entrance after him. When I reach it, Doria steps inside. She catches me, and pushing me backwards so that I have to catch myself on the vanity. 

“Running away little song bird?”

I have no response. She chuckles at my silence, and takes Proteus’ place in the chair. Pulling out a knife to pick at her nails and cuticles, she says, “Proteus is too kind to you just because you’re silver. He should lock you up in that shed with the Red devil.” 

The mention of Mare brings my head around so I can glare at her. “Where is she? What have you done to her?”

Smirking at my words, Doria looks up from her nails to say, “Nothing she didn’t deserve.” 

My blood runs cold as I try to advance on her, stuttering over my threats. Before I can truly reach her though, she leaps to her feet and grabs my wrists. I yelp as she squeezes tight enough that my bones feel like they will shatter. She practically presses her nose to mine as she hisses, “Try to bewitch my king with your little songs, and I will find a hole in these plains and bury you so deep you won’t be able to dig yourself out when you return.” 

She throws me backwards onto the mess of blankets that make up the bed. I scramble to right myself, and watch as she sinks back into the chair. She goes back to picking at her nails, and even though her eyes aren’t on me, I know that she is aware of my every move. If she stays here tonight, I doubt I’ll get any sleep, which leaves me with plenty of time to start planning an escape.  

[saibh29]

Underground (Part 1)

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Warnings: Possibly a lot... buried, swearing, break up, anger, trauma

AN: My daughter isn’t doing so well and I’m in a very angsty place. Hence this. 

*****

It was dark, so dark that you were struggling to even make out your hand when held in front of your face. Something was dripping as well, it sounded like liquid hitting metal. All around you as well was a low level groan that felt like it was reverberating through your very bones.

Why couldn’t you remember what was happening? Why could you remember where you were or why?

In fact, your brain suddenly shrieked at you in fear, why couldn’t you move your legs? Actually, you couldn’t even feel your legs.

Something was seriously wrong and you were starting to panic.

“Y/N?”

Your head spun around trying to found the source of the voice. In the dark though it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where he was.

“Kelly?” coughing after your words you found dust coated to the top of your tongue and all around your mouth. “Kelly, where are you?”

There was a rumble to your left, Kelly’s voice cursing and then in a glaring flash, light illuminated the area. Kelly was sat a few feet away from you, his leather jacket and white shirt covered in flecks of rubble, his jeans were ripped and his cheekbone had blood dripping from a cut there.

“Y/N, you ok?”

“I don’t know. Kelly my legs….” You trailed off because in the light, which seemed to be coming from the torch app on his phone, you understood why you couldn’t feel your legs. From the knee’s down you were pinned under a gigantic slab of concrete.

In fact, broken concrete, bent robars and the foundations of what had once been the auditorium of the new art centre was all that was surrounding you. You were trapped under a building that for some reason had collapsed.

Holy fuck.

You started to breath fast and rapidly, sometimes skipping a breath and causing one of those strange hiccouphs people did when an indrawn breath hit an outgoing one.

“Hey! Y/N, hey, look at me” Kelly’s voice dragged you back into the present. “breathe with me” he ordered “in and out… slowly” focusing only on Kelly’s chest you managed to link your breathing to his own and your panic died down slightly.

“Good, good. Now, stay still” very carefully he climbed the wreckage to lodge himself where your feet where, he was pointing the phone at your legs moving it around to get a good look at the concrete that was trapping you.

“Kelly?”

“I can’t see any blood, and the main weight of this slab isn’t actually on your legs. It’s resting on some smaller pieces of rubble beneath”

“Severide”

The use of his last name and the returning panic in your voice got his focus off your legs and back to your face. “It’s ok” he soothed, it seemed a rather fruitless task but he was wiping dust out of your eyes and off your cheeks. “We’re going to be fine. The guys will be here to get us out in no time”

“How? We’re under a tonne of concrete?”

“What do you think we do all day Y/N?”

He was teasing you, trying to distract you from the present situation. You knew he was doing it but you couldn’t see the harm in playing a long with the fantasy. “I don’t know, rescue cats from trees? Help little old ladies across the road? That kind of thing”

“Nice to see your sarcasm remains intact”

“Even if my body isn’t huh?”

“Don’t” he warned finding your hand and squeezing it in his own. “Don’t do the fatalistic we aren’t ever getting out of here. We Will”

“I never took you for an optimist Kelly”

“I'm always optimistic”

He really wasn’t, but you weren’t going to press the issue at the moment because from above you a sudden trickle of dust was getting stronger. Something was moving and the low-level groan was starting to get louder.

“Ke..Kel”

“Shhh, don’t move” he warned, eyes darting around above you, trying to figure out which of the concrete slabs it was that was moving. He looked at you again, taking your face in his hands. “We’ll be fine”

It sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself now as well as you.

The trickle sped up significantly again and the rumble turned to thunder as a crash came from where Kelly had been sat before. Without thinking Kelly threw his body over your own and clinging to him you buried your face into his neck.

Why, why were you even here?

 He’d broke up with you, that piece of crap you called a boyfriend had actually texted you, hours before you were due at the event to say he was breaking up with you. By FUCKING text.

Anger was beating at you and you had a manic idea to throw the phone out of the window you were so furious. That, though, wouldn’t help this situation. Instead you stabbed in the number for your best friend.

“Y/N, what’s up?”

“He fucking broke up with me Kelly. By TEXT”

“Huh?”

“Y/B/N, that cowardly, snivelling, rat faced man pig broke up with me 2 hours before I have to be at this bloody event”

“That’s a lot of animal metaphors in one sentence”

“KELLY!”

“Alright, alright… you still at home?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Look, you still go that suit I left at yours after we went to your mums fancy dinner?”

“Yeah”

“Well, why don’t I wear that and I’ll take you to the party?”

“Really?”

“Sure. Free drinks, right?”

“Right”

Promising he’d be there in around 30 minutes you threw your phone on your bed and stared in the mirror. You’d really made an effort for this event, you’d had your hair done, bought a new more expensive than 3 months rent dress and put on the red lipstick that made your skin tone pop, and that shit head had dumped you with a text message.

Well fuck him.

Fuck men in general, well may not all of them, but the majority. 99% of them.

You were going to wear the heels that had matched the price of the dress, you were going to drink enough champagne to ignore about the pain the shoes caused and you were going to let Kelly make you forget that snake had ever even inserted himself into your life.  

****

@lifesaclimb-buttheviewisgreat  @lclb13 @moli1497   @clementines-x @the-chosen-one-time-lord @no-other-names-availible-blog @angelaiswriting @selldraug @angryares @thenovarose @georgiagrl1990 @mindofthescattered  @dontstopxx @iamabeautifulperson18 @madelinecraig03 @ka-x-in @mesmericbell  @weirdpotato-14 @putinontheritzz @soulslaststand @fuckthatfeeling  @ember1201 @morganlb23 @tomhopperarms  @fakingintrest @artprincessbree  @dreamer-lover-laughter @artprincessbree @rime-warrior @captainvaneswife @kapolisradomthoughts @thingsandstuffienjoy @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @aya-fay  @itsbubbaog @hp-hogwartsexpress @emmykinzs @thatbadassunicorn @sassywingednightmare @weirdnewbie @goyawriter @shipperfangirling @nathaliabakes @stillreadingfantasy @waywardblueshun @give-jack-a-lightsaber @shipatheart @itsdesiree86 @coffeebooksandfandom​ 

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (N.H.)

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

twenty-four

If you had asked Kelsey what her plans for her weekend in Vegas were, they wouldn't have included this: standing at the door of Niall's hotel room at five in the morning with last night's mascara clinging to her cheeks, wondering if it was too late to turn around and run the other way.

It wasn't too late. Not yet, because she hadn't knocked and he didn't know that she was here and she hadn't stared into those gorgeous blue eyes that always seemed to hypnotize her. If she really wanted she could keep it that way; she could go back down the elevator and into her starched white hotel sheets, and get on a plane again in a few hours like last night night never happened. But somehow she was stuck. Her feet cemented in place in front of the white hotel room door. And as much as her brain told her it wasn't too late to forget last night ever happened, the rest of her body resists.

Niall had first proposed the idea of meeting up again last night after their...encounter...at the after party. But proposed wasn't the right word, Niall's words had been more urgent than that, borderline begging.

"I just need a few minutes to speak to you," Niall had pleaded. "I need to explain. Please let me explain." Niall's eyes begged for forgiveness.

Kelsey had turned away, making her way toward the door, every second she spent with Niall bringing her closer and closer to disaster.

"Room 502. 5 am. Please Kelsey just give me a chance to explain."

Kelsey hadn't said anything back. Instead, she'd made her way back to the dance floor and was met by Mallory's "where have you been?".

Kelsey had tossed and turned all night over this. She knew it was wrong, going to see Niall. She knew what was at stake. But she was like an addict, and Niall Horan was her drug of choice. Twenty minutes with him in a glammed up bathroom had rekindled every feeling that she'd tried to bury since she let him go months ago.

Kelsey inhaled deeply. She couldn't let this weekend ruin everything she'd sacrificed so far. But she had so many questions, and those questions could only be answered by doing exactly what she wasn't supposed to do. She raised her hand to knock.

"You came," Niall said with a grin as he opened the door and Kelsey entered the doorway. Her hair was half curled from last night, some remnants of mascara clinging to her lashes, but in the early morning light, all Niall could think about was just how beautiful she was.

He wondered how he ever made it through the past four months without her, but then realized he hadn't. Not really.

"Yes," she replied softly, glancing around the room as if she was being followed. She seemed scared, hesitant and Niall wondered just what had transpired that had made Kelsey so afraid.

"Let's go," Niall gestured out the door.

"Where exactly?" Kelsey raised an eyebrow, wondering where on earth Niall thought the two of them would be going, especially with Niall still dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe. His hair was tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed, but his eyes seemed brighter this morning, as if he'd gotten a lot more sleep than Kelsey had.

"Somewhere no one will find us," Niall whispered, his voice creating goosebumps on Kelsey's arms.

The staircase was somewhere Niall and the lads had discovered back in the One Direction days. A rickety, metal roof-access staircase that was used once or twice a year. The stairs weren't pretty, but the view of Las Vegas from the rooftop was, and that was exactly what Niall wanted to show Kelsey in the early morning light.

It's still dark when Niall props open the rusty metal door revealing the hotel roof, but Kelsey still feels exposed, her mind racing at all the ways they could be caught up here.

Niall sensed her fear, because he places his hand, warm, on the small of back and whispered "Basil's watching the stairs, don't worry." Even that doesn't calm Kelsey's anxiety.

Kelsey followed Niall to a place on the center of the roof, sitting beside him and gazing out upon the Las Vegas strip. Sunrise is just beginning to appear on the horizon, and for a moment Kelsey forgot why she is here, or what has happened between them. It's just her and Niall. Like it used to be.

Niall cleared his throat nervously, bringing Kelsey back to reality. "Last night, there were a lot of..." he gulped, searching for exactly the right word to explain what happened last night. "Emotions." He glanced over at Kelsey, and saw that she had shown a sliver of a smile. "I just wanted a chance for you to hear it from me. My side of the story instead of TMZ's."

Kelsey didn't say anything. She just nodded. Niall wondered if maybe this was going to be a one-sided conversation after all.

"It was a mistake Kels," Niall exclaimed, as if that wasn't entirely obvious. "I was sad and she was sad and I just wanted something to numb the pain. And the second it was over all I could think about was you. And how much that hurt you," Niall felt emotion seeping into his voice at the memory of just how awful that moment had been. "Every day since then I've wished that I could take it back. That if I was just given one chance to live that day over again, I wouldn't do it. Because it didn't take away the pain, it amplified it."

Kelsey couldn't look Niall in the eyes, instead she stared out street blacktop below them, empty, with only the earliest of inhabitants cruising the streets.

Niall saying it was all a mistake should have made her feel better. But instead it makes her worse. Because the only reason he was ever in that position in the first place was because of her.

"I didn't want to be a father, not like this. But she's got no one. No one, Kelsey. And this isn't just her fault or her responsibility. It took two of us," Niall laughed forcefully, as if he had made a joke. "She gave me the option you know. We ended the contract. And I could have run, god how I wanted to run. But that wouldn't be right you know? We are still figuring it out. How to do this whole co-parenting, and we've got some time but I just. I need you to know that there is nothing there- nothing there romantically. It's just giving this kid a life with two parents that love 'em."

Niall turned to look at Kelsey, realizing he had been rambling, but she remained silent. She's staring at the concrete of the rooftop now, her fingers drawing circles on the cement. He wondered if he had gotten this all wrong. Maybe last night hadn't really happened, maybe there hadn't been a moment where everything seemed like it was going to be okay. Maybe she was still as angry with him as she was the moment he stepped into that bathroom.

Niall thought that maybe he should be quiet. He'd been doing an awful lot of talking, and he had really hoped that by sharing his story, maybe Kelsey would share hers. But there's one more thought in the back of his mind. And he know he can't come to terms with whatever the next chapter of their story is until he says it aloud. "A melody came to me last night, after the party," he paused. "I haven't been able to write in months and then BOOM, I see you and suddenly my music has returned to me. It's no coincidence, Kelsey. You're back in my life and now so is my music."

Kelsey stayed silent, biting the inside of her cheek to keep tears from forming. The fact that thee contract between Niall and Krystal had ended. The fact that he was handling the situation exactly as she thought he would. The fact that he thought she was 'back in his life'. It was all too much.

She tried to remain expressionless, because that's what she was supposed to do right? She was supposed to resist every bone in her body screaming at her to lean over and kiss Niall.

"Damnit Kelsey say something!" Niall exclaimed, reaching out to touch Kelsey's arm, as her eyes met his for the first time since he started speaking. They aren't the happy or forgiving eyes that Niall was hoping to see, nor the angry eyes he was fearing. They were blank, almost as if she wasn't there at all.

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly.

Niall sighed, and Kelsey can hear the annoyance in his breath. "That's it? Honestly Kelsey it would feel better if you yelled at me. I know something's going on, please just tell me. I won't be mad," his voice shifted to concern.

"I wish I could Niall. God, I wish I could tell you everything. But I can't."

"Then tell me what you're so scared of," he grabbed her hands and she didn't pull away.

"Everything," Kelsey said softly, "I'm scared I'll lose everything." I may have already lost it , she thought to herself.

"Whatever it is Kelsey, whatever they made you sign. We can fight it. I can fix it. Let me fix it!"

The tears Kelsey had tried so hard to contain were starting to escape, one sliding down the side of her nose. She reached her hand up and tried to quickly wipe it away before he noticed. "I can't risk it Niall. I just can't."

Niall opened his mouth again to speak, but Kelsey stopped him before the words could leave his lips. Because she knew how this would go. Niall didn't see things like Kelsey saw them. He was an idealist, and he wouldn't understand it unless she laid it out clearly- well, as clearly as she could without violating the NDA.

"You, you may lose your contract or your tour or your album but you will have something left. You have fans who adore you. Fans that worship the ground you walk on. Fans that would simply not allow you to never release a piece of music again. And even in the unlikely situation that you lose the music industry entirely, you will still have plenty. But me? Breaking this contract means I lose everything I've ever worked for. I lose my entire future." Kelsey's eyes pleaded with Niall to read between the lines, to connect the dots to what exactly her deal with the devil included.

"So that's it then? You just want to forget this weekend ever happened? Don't you think it was fate that we would even be in the same place at the same time again? I can't let you do this Kelsey, we have to do something."

"What Niall? What is this 'something' that we are going to do?" Kelsey said with frustration. "This isn't even something that can be done at the spur of the moment."

"I don't know..." Niall shrugged, his face defeated.

"I love you Niall, I do," Kelsey whispered. "Just know that I've always done what I've done because I love you. Now I'm asking you to do the same- keep this to yourself. If you love me, you'll understand."

"I love you," Niall murmured. "But.."

"No more buts..." Kelsey smiled, reaching a hand up to brush the side of Niall's face. "Maybe our love was just meant to be at a distance."

She leaned over, placing a soft kiss on Niall's lips, then stood, stepping away from Niall's grasp and once again made her way away from Niall before he can say anything else. Or more accurately, before she could change her mind.

She'd already said far too much.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall​​ , @ihearthemcallingforyou​ , @niall-is-my-dream​​ ,​  @stylishmuser​​​ , @thicksniall

[hornsbeforehalos]

Waste Love: Part Seven

Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff  A/N: credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer Masterlist is now in effect and can be found at the bottom before the tags. This is another short one, I’m sorry :(

“The fuck is that shit, man?” Slim asked accusingly, “You fucking stupid or somethin’?”

“Bro, what the fuck ever,” Colson deflected, brushing him off with a shake of his head, “I’m done with this bullshit.” 

Colson turned to pick his phone up from the arm of the couch so he could leave, but was suddenly speared into the furniture, his face instantly smacking into the wall behind the sofa. Pain shot through his face for a split second before relocating to the back of his head, the feeling of fists pounding against his skull overwhelming.

Colson managed to get turned over to face his attacker, Rook. The man was furious, his face red and straining as he fought against Slim and Andre, who were already trying to get him off. When the two larger men finally got a grip on him and started to pull, JP saw the perfect opportunity to lift his leg and kick out, his sneakered foot coming in contact hard with Colson’s face.

The sound of bone crunching was almost vomit-inducing. Colson’s hands instantly covered his face, blood pouring through his fingers and down his arms as he leaned over the arm of the sofa in pain. Rook huffed and strained against the arms leading him towards the door, determined and out for more blood.

“You’re a fucking bitch, Kels. Stay the fuck away from my fucking sister.” Rook spat, attempting to break away from Slim’s grasp as Andre moved to open the door. Slim finally shoved Rook outside into the hallway of the studio, dragging him towards the exit. 

Baze threw a towel at Colson, shaking his head in anger before walking out. Andre narrowed his eyes at Colson, watching as the blonde man held the cloth to his nose, his tear-rimmed eyes already swelling. 

“You the dumbest nigga I know, you know that?” Andre started, still holding the door open as he pointed at Colson, “You fucked up. Period. Now go to the hospital and get checked out.” 

Andre shook his head as he walked out, letting the door close behind him with a loud bang. 

Colson knew better than to think that anything in that article was true. He’d seen dozens of other ones with practically the same content and had laughed about them before. Tiffany had even sent him a few and laughed with him. He knew better. He’d caused the one thing he never wanted- an issue with his friends.

--

It had taken months, and they still weren’t completely back to normal yet, but JP forgave Colson eventually. So did everyone else. Except for Tiffany. 

She’d packed up almost all of her stuff out of her and Rook’s house and had left literally zero trace of her at Colson’s before climbing into her car and just leaving. It took her two weeks before she’d answer JP’s calls, her brother pissed and angry and worried about her. Their father was the one who made sure JP knew his sister was alright and had told him he’d be sure she’d call him.

Tiffany had moved to New York City from California, the woman wanting to get as far away from Colson or any memories of him as possible.

She’d found a little apartment in a nice neighborhood near Chinatown, the space clear and fresh and hers. She didn’t think she’d enjoy living alone after being her brother’s roommate since his birth, but she realized what she’d been missing that entire time when she didn’t have to trip over his clothes or shoes or left over women every morning. 

She’d been working as a freelance makeup artist and photographer, which was actually going a lot better than she’d expected. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t have anything to do with who her past consisted of, but she was okay with that. It was the least the asshole could do, in her opinion. 

She was leaned against her kitchen counter waiting on her coffee to brew, one morning, when the sound of Colson’s voice through her phone scared the living shit out of her. ‘Lace Up’ blasted from the speaker, Ashleigh’s name and face flashing across the screen. Scrunching her face in confusion, she swiped the green button, answering the call.

“Bitch, please, please, please tell me you’re not busy today.” The woman begged, her voice sounding frantic and almost on the verge of tears.

“Why?” Tiffany asked back, suspicion lacing her tone. Ashleigh was one of the only people besides her brother she had remained in contact with, and even that was few and far in between. She knew that there would only be a couple of reasons for her to need her.

“Okay, please just don’t say no.” Ash started, obviously shaking from what ever anxiety she was dealing with, “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t for the fact that we’re literally fucked if you don’t help.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Tiffany inquired, pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“I need a photographer.” Ash explained, “We have like fifty grand into this fucking production for this music video for Dubb and Jordan’s photography dude can’t make it or some shit. I might need your help with makeup, too, ‘cuz I haven’t been able to get a hold of her today, either.”

“Colson’s going to be there?” Tiffany guessed.

“Yeah, hence the begging.” She sighed. It was obvious she was desperate. She knew how much Tiffany was hurt by what happened and was just as pissed at Colson, but she’d promised Dubb that she’d get everything taken care of. 

“I don’t know, Ash…” Tiffany replied, wanting to be able to help her friend but not wanting to have to see him. 

“Look, I’ll keep him as far away from you as humanly possible, okay? Pleaseeee, Tiff. I’ll even pay you.”

After a few more minutes of begging, Tiffany finally caved. She got the info on the location and set about getting everything together, anxiety and dread filling the pit of her stomach. She’d thought she’d put all of this behind her, but here she was, one call throwing her all back in it. 

She was grateful that Colson hadn’t arrived yet when she got there. Ash met her in the lobby of the studio they were using for the shoot and ushered her in to show her where she would be setting everything up, Jordan giving her a huge smile and a big hug when he spotted her. 

“Thank you so much for the help, Tiff, like, seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.” The man told her, squeezing her shoulders again as he lead her towards a group of girls who were to be the models, “If you wanna start on makeup first that’d be awesome. I won’t need you for any of the photographs until a little bit later on today.”

“Sounds good,” She said with a smile, waving to the girls as he introduced her.

Tiffany was in the finishing up doing one of the girls’ faces when she heard his voice. Well, his laugh, actually. It echoed through the open space, and Tiffany couldn’t help but turn her head in the direction of it. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him, nerves pitting deeper as she watched him turn in her direction. He hadn’t noticed her yet, his phone in his hand serving as a distraction. 

Colson’s cerulean gaze met hers from across the room when he looked up, a shocked expression crossing his face as he stopped in his tracks. Ash caught him as he started to head towards Tiff, distracting him from her and leading him away as quickly as she could. 

Shaking her head, Tiffany turned back to her client. The girl eyed her suspiciously, her gaze moving from Colson to Tiff, and asked, “Aren’t you that girl he used to date?”

Tiffany’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, her eyes widening, “Um…”

Her reply was interrupted by Jordan coming up and whisking her away before she could answer, and Tiffany was mentally thanking him a thousand times. Another girl sat in her chair instantly, the ebony-skinned woman already looking irritated. 

“Hello, I’m Tiffany. How’re you today?” Tiffany smiled politely, brushing the woman’s hair out of her face gently.

“Just don’t poke me in the eye, alright?” The woman huffed, cocking an eyebrow as she raked her eyes down Tiffany’s frame, judging Tiffany’s dirty Chucks and bare face, “You better know what you’re doing.”

Cocking a haughty eyebrow of her own, Tiffany took a step back, “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter? You poke me or hurt me in any way and I’mma stomp your ass.” The woman threatened, rolling her eyes, “Everytime I let a white bitch do my makeup, they fuck my shit up.”

Tiffany was about to spit back at the woman, anger seeping through her when Colson seemingly came out of nowhere to her defense, his eyes narrowed and serious as he pointed at the woman, “The fuck you just say, bitch?”

“Who the fuck-” The woman began, but was cut off.

“Nah, fuck that. Aye, yo, Dubb, this one’s gotta go.” Colson shouted, pointing down to the woman in the chair as Tiffany stood there, “I don’ like her attitude.”

“Nigga, fuck you,” The model spat, standing up and getting into Colson’s personal space, “Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I’m the dude who’s paying you to be on your knees and shakin’ your ass, bitch.” Colson rebutted proudly, a humiliating smile being thrown at the girl, “And I’m the dude who just fired your skeevy ass.”

“It’s fine, Kels, don’t worry about it,” Tiffany promised, gesturing that it wasn’t a big deal, “It’s nothing.” 

“The fuck it is. Ain’t no hoe talk about my girl that way,” Colson replied, not looking away from the model as he spoke, pointing towards the door, “Now get the fuck out.” 

“Best do what he says, girl!” Dubb could be heard shouting from across the room somewhere. The woman huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, rounding on Tiffany, who was leaning against the counter behind her. Tiff raised her eyebrows and shrugged nonchalantly, not about to defend her or try to keep her there. 

“You good?” Colson asked once the girl had stomped off, his voice low and avoiding eye contact.

Tiffany nodded, swallowing thickly against the lump in her throat as she looked away. 

“Bitch was fuckin’ stupid.” Colson commented, shaking his head.

“Thanks, Kels.” Tiffany replied, turning her face to finally look at him, the guardedness in her eyes unmistakable, “I can take care of myself, though.”

“I know. Just didn’t like what I was hearing.” He shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he mumbled, “It’s good to see you, Tiff.”

“Yeah.” She returned blankly, her eyes flicking to Ash as she yelled for him.

“Yeah,” Colson replied, nodding his head to Ash in recognition before finally meeting Tiffany’s hazel irises, “You think we can talk later?”

Tiffany sighed, afraid that this would happen. She knew what he’d say, how he’d apologize, how she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. She’d been hoping that he would just ignore her, but she knew better. 

“Maybe. I’ll let you know before I leave.” Tiffany responded, hearing Ash call for him again. Colson let a small smile slip for her as he nodded, seeming to be happy with her answer for now as he walked away.

The rest of the shoot went without too many hiccups, and Tiffany was able to get hundreds of shots that Jordan loved. She was packing the last of her things in her bags when she felt him walk up behind her, the indescribable energy that was colson instantly recognizable. 

“Thanks for all the help today, Tiff. Seriously.” He stated, leaning against the counter beside her with a joint between his fingers. 

Tiffany looked up to him with a soft smile, nodding her head while she zipped up the suitcase, “Always.” 

The tension was obvious between them as she rose to her feet, awkwardly standing there while waiting on him to say something else. He held the joint out for her and she took it, bringing the cone to her lips and inhaling deeply, hoping it would help calm her nerves. 

“You busy tonight?” Colson finally asked, taking the spliff back from her as she exhaled the thick smoke.

“Um, not that I know of.” She shrugged.

“You wanna go get a drink or somethin’ later?”

Biting her lip in hesitation, Tiffany shrugged again before meeting his crystalline gaze, “I mean, I guess.”

Instantly taking any answer that wasn’t ‘no,’ Colson’s smile beamed at her as he passed the joint back, “I can pick you up once I finish with this interview I gotta go to. Bring by something to smoke before hand.”

“Okay,” She replied, still unsure but deciding to at least be grown enough to hear what he had to say, “I’ll text you my address.” 

“Cool,” Colson responded as Ash hollered that it was time for them to go, “I’ll see you later, Tiff.”

He leaned in hesitantly, holding his arm out for permission for a hug. She smirked at him but obliged, letting his arms envelope her in his warmth and scent. She couldn’t help but squeeze him a little, letting herself soak in his embrace for a moment before pulling away. He gave her another gentle smile accompanied with a wink before heading in the direction of where Ashleigh was screaming for him again.

Masterlist

Tags: @abbysdogcollar  @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen @mgkobsessed@iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3 @xxencagedxx@xxkellsvixen19xx @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

[selenelavellan]

I'm sorry, aaaa--i forgot to do a [1] cos i ran out of space. ye, it a prompt, a companion selene prompt! to piss off dirthy

Cool! This is…probably not what you had in mind but I have had a day, and it is kicking off from your previous writing which was incredible (and also largely inspired by ‘Dirthy’, sorry my brain latches onto weird things).

Companion Selene AU

Dirthamen and Inquisitor Kel(mentioned) belong to @feynites

Lieslingered on his lips as he kissed her. She wasn’t her. She wasn’treal. A part, separate, long reduced to ash sang out from thedistance of time; lies remain lies, no matter how sweet. He swallowedthese truths, and kissed her lips to disguise the taste of bilerising. Honey made even the most disgusting medicine go down.(x)

Nightafter night, Selene has watched this scene play out in LordDirthamen’s dreams. It had seemed only fair, after his own intrusionsinto hers.

Sheis still struggling to make sense of it.

Thisimage who is her but is not her. She laughs in a way that suggests anease Selene has never felt. Smiles at him in a way Selene has neversmiled at anyone. And when she tries to think of such things, triesto remember if in all her millenias of life she has ever feltanything like what she is seeing, she finds only emptiness. Holes,where she should have memories. If she presses at them, there areflashes. Bright lights and a feeling of warmth before it is rippedviolently further from her.

Andwhen she thinks on her own memories, of the wars and the fall and herLady and her fellow Sentinels, they falter. Faces that are blurs withnothing beneath. Fabric fraying apart beneath her fingertips, abattlefield where she is the only one for miles, but stillshe is bloodied and angry and tired. Pushing, fighting, forsomething. But when she tries to think of what she was fighting sodesperately for, she finds…

Nothing.

Shediscusses the matter with Abelas, during the day. He and the rest ofthe Sentinels still adjusting to the way things are done withinTarasyl'an Te'las, or Skyhold, as it is now called. He has hadsimilar issues of his own, apparently. He admits it was one of thereasons he did not resist when the Inquisition asked to separate herfrom the others. Admits that neither he, nor the others, have anymemory of her that predates their last awakening.

Itmakes her question herself.

Shehas seen the looks from others, of course. The pitying looks, thehalf spoken words. ‘People’ looking at her as though she is onlyhalf-there.

Selenefinds it very frustrating; half of the community seems to be scaredto approach her for fear of what may happen to them by their higherups, and many of their higher ups are afraid to speak for fear ofwhat may happen to her. Asthough she is made of some delicate glass that could shatter andbreak if mishandled, and not flesh and bone and magic and things thatcould render this world apart if she could reach across that blastedveil and take it.

Soshe wanders alone. Taking in her surroundings and wondering if shemight not be better off outside of these walls.

“SELEEENE!”

Selenepauses in her steps. She…did someone just call her name?

“SELEEEENE!OI, GET YER HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE AND GET DOWN HERE!”

Sheblinks, and moves to the edge of the rampart, trying to find thesource of the noise. An arrow whizzes just past her head and sticksin the stone beside her. There is a pair of red undergarmentswrapped around the shaft.

Seleneseyebrows raise, as she removes the arrow and attached lingerie, andmakes her way down to the blonde woman who keeps waving.

“Isthis how your people court now?” Selene asks. It seems ratherblunt, but she can’t really knock the effectiveness of it.

“Heh.What? Your Dirthy’d knock my head if we knocked boots. Knock…wellnot knock like we’d be knocking, but knock like pain, yeah?”

Selenetilts her head and tries to make sense of that sentence.

“Ugh,that elfy shite really messed up your head. Still you though.”

“Whoelse would I be?”

“Dunno.A Sentinel shit maybe. Thought Solas’d be getting all fluttery inyour space like he did with everything else at the temple. S'justavoiding you though, which is weird but good. I guess.”

Selenefrowns “I am aSentinel.”

“Pfft.Yeah ok. You’re a Sentinel and I’m a friggin’ mage.”

Seleneblinks, and holds out the red fabric to the strange elf “Are theseyours?”

“Nah,they’re Vivvy’s but she won’t miss ‘em.”

“Right…'Vivvy’…Andyour name again was…?”

“Sera.Don’t forget it again, third time you ask I have to start charging.Or make a new one.”

Selenejust nods, even though she doesn’t remember asking a first time. “Ok.Sera. Do I know you?”

“Yeah.All of us. Rumor is you forgot though, so I won’t take it toopersonal this time. Wanna go blow stuff up?”

“Isthat permitted?”

Sera’seyes narrow and her nose squinches up in distaste “What? No.Doesn’t matter. S'fun.”

Seleneconsiders her options; a God who seems determined to claim her, thepitying looks of strangers that claim they aren’t strangers, herfamily that doesn’t recall her existence, or this strange elfinviting her to join in something she claims is fun.

“Iwould love to 'blow stuff up’, Sera. Thank you.”

–

Blowingstuff up turns out to be a lot of fun, although short lived when theprivate cooks in the kitchens aren’t thrilled with the 'flower flourbombs’ Selene and Sera rig to go off whenever a new bag of flour isopened. Selene maintains the petals look very pretty, and it wouldhave been deemed an acceptable loss for the sake of aesthetic before.Sera looks at her funny when she tries to use it as a defense though,and insists that they should both go and get 'hammered’ instead.

Seleneis concerned her carpentry skills will not be up to par.

Itis a relief then, when 'hammered’ turns out to mean drinking copiousamounts of alcohol. Selene is verygood at that, she discovers. Some of the others in the tavern look ather and Sera curiously when they walk in, but after a few pints, theyare all singing along to something about 'horns pointing up’ and sheis laughing with something called a Qunari.

Sheis not sure what that means exactly, but his horns are veryimpressive. Apparently his name is The Iron Bull, and Selene spendsseveral minutes arguing with him about stronger metals he should havechosen instead of something as soft and pliable as iron.

Sera just laughs, and declares “Still her!”

“Who-whoelse would I be?”Selene asks for the second time. “Everyone keeps acting like theyknow me but I don’t know you and the people I thought I knew don’tknow me and it is all very…” She makes a motions with her handsto indicate swirling energies and conflicting forces and threadstangling but mostly she just gets strange looks in return.

“Still got your Dirthy though, right?” Sera asks with a teasingtone.

“What the frig is 'Dirthy’?” Selene yells at the ceiling.

“Y'know,Dirthy! With the mask and cloak and the giggles and then you’d do themoaning and push your squishy bits together. Friggin’ loudlytoo.”

Somewherein Selene’s alcohol soaked brain, she manages to put together 'mask’and 'squishy bits’  and the repeated scenes in the fade, andpractically shoots straight up from where she had been reclining onthe table.“Wait, is 'Dirthy’ Dirthamen? LordDirthamen?”

“Euch,don’t call him a 'Lord’ outside of your games, else I gotta startsneaking eggs under his birds again.”

“Iknew him?”

“Loudly,”Krem reiterates from his chair, and it sends most of The Chargersinto a drunken laughing fit again.

Selenefrowns “I don’t remember any of that.”

“Kiddingright? You used to be trying to sell me some past life soulmate shiteand now you don’t even remember him?”

“Notsince before I woke up in the Temple, no…”

TheIron Bulls empty tankard drops loudly onto the table, and Seleneshead turns toward him in alarm.

“Youtalk to him about any of this?” he asks.

Seleneshakes her head, but pauses. “Talking is…the wrong verb to use, Ithink.”

TheIron Bull lets out a heavy sigh and mumbles to himself beforespeaking loudly enough for her to hear him “This is why you don’tget involved with DEMONS. You got a kink? Find a safe space andpretend like the rest of us.”

“He’snot a demon,” She feels inclined to point out.

“Frigginacts like he is…” Sera mumbles before taking a long swig from herown mug.

“Youshould talk to the Inquisitor,” The Iron Bull says “She knew youway before any of this weird magic shit started.”

Selenefrowns, but nods. She still doesn’t remember anything anyone seems tobe pointing out to her, but for now it’s…nice, to feel like peoplewant her around. Even when Sera passes out face down in Selenes lap,and has to be carried back to her rooms.