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junelover505 · 22 days

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I have stitches in my mouth; I yearn to be heard

TRIGGER WARNING!!

existential dread, but it's not too bad! This is part of a series that's for mature audiences however, and the chapters will progressively get darker and darker.

So as always: Minors DNI!! And read with caution!!

A little something to set the mood :)

Between blacking out and coming to; transportation:

Juniper bears an indiscernable hollowness in her heart. The lonely soul found itself in emptiness as terrifying as it was familiar.

Is the void a mirror or a window?

What constitutes your existence?

Is it just your belief? Your perception of your own self? The very act of thought?

Cogito ergo sum.

Juniper always believed that when a tree falls down and no one is around to hear it's echo, then it is mute.

Why think when you can be seen.

Juniper is always seen.

Where is June?

CHAPTER 1: Cogitare; cogitare; the only thing you can do as it begins.

"Je pense ,donc je suis."

"I am thinking, therefore i am."

June always thought it was just: "i think, therefore i am."

The memory was something she recalled from when the teacher brought up some other philosopher's interpretation of the sentence, and upon discussing the belief of a mistranslation, everyone turned to the only student fluent in french for confirmation.

It very well could have been; as the french present tense is rather vague ,and capable of being used in the absolute; whereas the English simple present is much more restricted, and not necessarily indicative of an active continuous action.

That class started with the teacher's attempt to establish a scenario of consistent doubting of all that you know.

--Passed down information, folklore stories, word of mouth anything without tangible scientific proof.--

Discarding all that had a chance of doubt, until all that you had left was certainty.

--Anything that you simply couldn't prove yourself, all that you can't see or experience through your own perception.--

As long as it had even the most minute chance of being false; it is then factually not real, or wrong ;so that what is left is what we can know beyond the shadow of a doubt.A

And as all can be cause for doubt, it also includes your very own senses and your very self.

June moved on to daydreaming by that point of the class, because how can you have doubt in so much? What would even be left for you to doubt? you'll have nothing. might as well be nothing, as nothing will be left.

How can you even doubt all your senses simultaneously for that long, all that you've known and what's been ingrained in you. Something so fundamental is literally 70% of what built you, your perception, and how you process the world that you just simply decided was not real.

You cannot look at fire, put your hand in and feel the burning in your palm, then deny the fact that it simply is a flame before you ,crying deception while blisters form at your skin.

Well ,the strawberry Blonde understood such train of thought when she saw a moving tree that turned out to be a man from the woods, outside a rundown motel window.

She doubted her sense of sight ,when she saw the 'man' turn out to be a live mannequin as tall as if not taller then the highest branches, in a black suit and bright red tie.

She doubted her sense of smell ,when the scent of copper mingled in with that of pine trees after running to look for it.

She doubted her sense of touch, when she stepped on a dying, beaten body in the woods.

She doubted her very judgement when she didn't try fighting harder when the killer grabbed at her like she was some type of stress plush and he was but a scared child.

Now, at this moment where time seemed to stand still and she lost all reference that she's long relied on; she doubted her very existence after blacking out without a second's notice; upon standing before that creature, the moment that blood covered man had let go of her and she failed to run away in time; leading June to find herself in endless darkness for a reason that she has yet to come to understand.

Empty black; an all consuming nothingness. A void. An abyss.

Did she die? Maybe a heart attack.

no.

Those hurt, her diet is good, she had no genetic heart issues from either side of her family.

Did she pass out?

Shouldn't she then be unconscious? Unaware of even where she was and safe from knowing that such a void existed.

What was she supposed to do if she suddenly stopped existing? Was this it?

Without her sense of perception; without that man covered in blood and soot, what other proof did she have of still being alive; of being real?

He was least lucky enough to ask her to confirm they saw the same thing when they faced the tall mannequin; she had no one to tell her if she herself could be seen.

She was alone; without the perception of herself or that of others to rely on.

Can she truly remain when she had no way of grounding herself with her self despite having no body an no way to impact what is around her corporally?

If there wasn't a world for her to interact with any longer, and be perceived in ;then she could only conclude that she was simply taken away from reality itself; akin to a grey hair plucked out from a scalp filled in black.

That is how she felt at least. One moment, she was awake and afraid, doubting all her senses and all that she'd known, facing a one in a million scenario that seemed to have come straight out of a block buster shelf, and like a snap everything went to an all consuming black.

She was no longer real. She could not have been.

She had just ceased to exist, she is now nothing. As nothing is all that is left and the only thing she could conceive.

So she was simply nothing? That's all it could be.

A conscious concept doomed to roam about in a forever nothingness with no one but the empty shell she's never bothered to know until now. Except there was no shell of flesh; just a dull obsidian.

Wasn't that who she was before?

An empty nothing, the lack of a person.

Was that all she'd ever been? How shed been seen? Just the silhouette of a a void, a nothingness cut out from the fabric of reality and ever moving in stopmotion-like gestures ;only craving to prove she was made of tangible matter upon her interactions with all that is in smooth sultry gestures; but pathetically failing each attempt and creating a show of pitiful submission to whatever creator willfully made her believe she was made in the image of meat to be ferociously consumed?

Desperate and hungry in her own right, but never allowed satiation.

She could not feel the air entering her lungs no matter how hard she tried to breathe.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Over and over, she tried to take in a desperate breath but felt nothing fill the area she assumed her lungs should have been in.

Where were her organs supposed to be in? The rest of her.

There was no way to tell up from down ,the left from right ,the north from east, the front from the back.

Her lungs, her shoulders her feet her stomach, the ever growing source of her aching.

There was no use in trying to hug herself as she felt nothing.

She saw nothing and felt nothing, knew nothing and so she might as well be nothing.

She'd been stuck like this for so long.o

How long?

She never will she know a reality beyond this one, where a lack of existence will forever be her mirror as a nothing; a less then nought.

She was doomed. How much time had passed? It felt like hours ,days, ages without any stimuli other then her own physically unfelt terror and an all consuming famishment for a corplorality she'd lost, bordering onto manic obsession.

Ages of trying to create sound through cries and screams without a voice box to speak of, no throat to go sore ,and no ears to deafen let alone hear.

All encompassing carnal anguish and restless terror of a nothing, a horror that is not to be anatomically felt.

She had no heart, to feel its breakneck unrhythmic thundering in her ribcage, creating rapid thought clouding pulsations in her ear; no blood to feel its rapid pumping through her system; no vision to cloud over and blur and tunnel into everything and nothing at once.

She had no mind left to loose, but endless time to mourn the flesh she's once took for granted and had the audacity to despise in the past, thinking of it as a curse that will ruin her until she would have no consciousness left to realize it was gone ,when she's 6 feet under.

This was hell itself.

Her hell was her very own all consuming emptiness she'd long felt within personified. Her filthy all blackened soul laid bare before her and she had eternity to make peace with such a fate.

Eternity; days ,weeks ,months. Time was not real and she had no way to count it, but her thoughts were so disgustingly clouded as she ruminated on her lack of existing.

Her new normal.

So much began to blur and mush together before separating back with only the sheer desperate carnal thirst her mind had for stimulation that made her take the time to rearrange her dusted memory closet.

And over whatever chunk of uncountable time had passed ,as her very mind felt like it was dissipating and fizzling out; she realized that her new curse of lucidity was the only thing she had left in this dark abyss, was slowly giving out on her as well.

She did have a mind, awareness, at least she had thought. And that might be all she would ever have.

What if that could just as easily be lost as her body and all else?

Wouldn't having a mind mean she was at least something within it's own right? She must at least exist in some form as her consciousness was concrete.

The very fact that she thought she simply ceased to exist was proof she did . And that despite feeling like time no longer existed beyond her vaguely guessed perceptions of its passing, it still technically should have still been passing.

You cannot doubt the active moving concept that you are as you'd need to exist to deny it.

Therefore she herself as an active, conscious concept , is simply incapable of denying her own existence, as the ladder act was paradoxically the antonym of the concept she was denying.

Therefore ,she had to be real, this new normal still had something of her old normal within it, there might be more to dig out.

Maybe her consciousness ,and therefore existence was just temporary?

After all, you'd never know if you are simply dreaming, you just wake up.

So maybe there was a way out of this nightmare that was beyond accommodating to it, or trying to look for traces of her body through recreating the basic functions with no flesh to function ,or raking through her blurred and unreliable memories for concrete examples of her existence ?

It would explain the eternal aspect of her reality and the rapid fizzling of the small traces left of her that were not linked to her corporal

She didn't know how long shed been stuck in this abstract state but it was far longer then she could bother keeping track of all at once ,despite her mind's hunger for entertainment that was not its own self.

She was still real; right? She wasn't completely faded yet as she could still think.

She had just concluded that she was.

But maybe she remembered wrong.

This state felt timeless, but the proof of her existence was not a timeless final fact.

It's only a certainty if she was actively thinking of it, reflecting upon it; doubting it; desperately holding onto her fastly fleeting identity as it slipped like sand through her fingers.

God what she couldn't give to feel sand in her fingers ,under the nail bed that she would later scrub off with cooling water and lathered soap.

The more she tried to guesstimate her time spent in the abstract ; the worse it got, in the form of an ever heavy sense of despair, pushing her to stop halfway through trying to count passing mississippies before starting over again in some type of sick self inflicted torture.

It's s not like she had anything left but her consciousness in this dark and unfeeling , all encompassing void.

She just had to make sure she was real; that she wasn't fading. Focus on your existence, that you are in fact real.

It's the only thing she's yet to try, and she could at least feel it was slowing down the dissipation of the fastly fleeting "I" that she was.

She had to stick to the basics and keep her mind in one easy and discernable track.

"cogito ergo sum"

She was real. Real and not a nothing.

She was June.

"i think , there for i am"

She was june. And she was real. Even if she was stuck here for centuries more. At least she was real. She was;

And she will keep telling herself and make sure it remained as such.

"I am thinking, therefore I am"

She was Juniper Eve Laine. And she was real. She still existed. She was actively existing. And by whatever cruel god that created her, she will keep existing if she has a hand in it.

"I am."

"I. AM."

But did certainty equate the truth?

If she was so sure she existed, did that make it fact?

A gasp finally filled her lungs.

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gretakatharinaa · 2 years

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about being heard

My take on the philosophical question:

"If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?"

We’ve heard it, whether it was in real life or movies: a falling tree.

Me, personally, when I think of a falling tree I always remember that one scene in avatar (I'm a big nerd for that one, don't judge) , where the humans rip down the wildlife of the jungle with their big yellow machines and guns. The roots squeak and as the wood slowly breaks, it makes this uncomfortable sound as if there would be a scream coming from nature, almost like a cry for help. The massive stem is breaking and within, each little wooden piece flies through the air, crashing through leaves as it finally lands on the floor, bouncing maybe the tiniest bit and then, settling to the ground with a powerful slam.

Trees do that all the time. Well, more so because we force them too. Every second there are trees falling and crashing to the ground as I am typing this.

But that is only what I know.

I can’t hear it. So the question arises:

If a tree falls, and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Physically speaking, yes.

The object falling is still interacting with the air, in fact it is making the air vibrate, which causes a sound.

And yet, I want to ask: If there is no one receiving said sound (physics aside) is there actually a sound?

Isn’t it kind of built in our logical and technical human nature that we need proof? Anything to work with our thesis. If I cannot touch something, can I at least hear it? I cannot see the smell coming from our neighbors garbage, yet I can recognize it with my nose and therefore reassuring its existence.

Humans need proof, we need something to work with.

I say, humans are not only rather stupid, we are arrogant. Arrogant to think that the universe only exists, works, smells, or cracks if we noticed it.

How impudent of us to think that the entire existence of everything requires our recognition.

A falling tree, a tragedy on its own, connected to nature and its ways, to pain, to brutality and faith, does not need to be heard to be true.

A tragedy does not need to be proven by the victim to be true.

I think the falling tree is us. Some of us, at least. The ones right now screaming internally or punching a wall, letting tears roll down their cheeks, laying in bed staring into the dark and feeling like there is indeed a tree where your heart should be, and it’s cracking.

I can’t hear them, I don’t know where or who they are.

All I know that I will never be as arrogant as to say that those people need to prove their pain to me for it to exist.

So yes, I think a tree does make a sound, and that sound is not just physical, not to be proven, and not to be heard.

#philosophy #ifatreefalls #human nature #your existence #7216

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dromjournal · 2 years

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Jan 22nd

I'm at a farm, the kind that's very Austen-esque mansion like with a pond and open grass areas. The pond is overflowing somewhat due to a period of rain.

We (me and a heavily pregnant woman and a young child) need to get to the train station to go back home, but it's a long way from here and there's no cars or anything, therefore we need to borrow some horses and a carriage. We are allowed to do it as we have paid for it, but the farm owners- workers?? Still seems sort of passive aggressively trying yo dissuade us.

The owner is a middle-aged woman and she has a lot of people around her that acts as if she's a small king with a whole political party behind her. I assume that isn't too far from the truth? Though a lot of her fame is connected to this farm she is some sort of politically important person.

We drive off but very soon we realize we are tailed by another more or less identical carriage. In good faith we don't do anything about it until the wheel on our cart breaks out of nowhere. It's as if it's been tampered with. The other carriage stops too to reveal the owner and a few workers. They get out and tell us they will take the carriage and horses back, but it's okay, because the road is flooded just right up ahead and they have a large boat that they will take us over on. Okay, we don't have much of a choice really. I go ahead to check the boat and road. I'm not gone for long, s few hours at most.

When I get back I find my wife(?) had gone into labor and died shortly after together with the child. The older child had also died in some freak accident that he had caused himself, like being trampled by the horses. This is the story I'm told, although no one seems particularly upset about it. Rather they joke about how it'll be much easier to move now. Something is wrong. I am overcome with grief, and that grief turns to anger.

I just want to crash the whole thing, which I also do. I get out on the deck of the boat while the others mainly stay inside. A few of them comes outside though to smoke or just to be assholes. I kill several of the employees that had been left with my wife after they taunt me about her death. On the ferry there's a huge buffet, but I'm locked out of it on the deck (which, fair enough, I did kill the people that came outside), exposed to the weather and cold. I can't find a way in and I can only sometimes see the owner through a window, looking down at me smirking. She don't even seem to care about the employees, she just enjoys my misery.

We dock after some time and I immediately start following a stamped dirt road, the only road there is so logically the one to the station. The others follow behind me but doesn't make any attempt at catching up or talk to me. They seem in good spirits. I don't have any way to tell time because of the thick fog by the water and woods, but I haven't had anything to eat or drink for days, being "locked out" of everything on the boat and provisions long gone. I just keep thinking we are so close now, we must be there any day now. I'm stubbornly hanging on to get away.

Then suddenly the woods clear up a bit around us and I see the water close to the trail. It's the pond. Across it, just a few kilometres away, is the farm. We've been going in a circle. I fall to my knees, exhaustion taking over my body as hopelessness washes over me. I had never been close to getting out. It was all for nothing. The group behind me laughs loudly and scornfully as they walk past me, leaving me with my spirit broken on that road without a second glance. They had known, of course. I fall forward, cheek against the dry dirt, until I can no longer hear them talking and laughing in the distance. I lie there as the night grows cold and I am sure I will freeze to death. I lie there as the morning comes around and the dew melts on my skin. I am little more than a ghost, a living dead.

Then suddenly a boy on skates crashes into a tree and fall down unconscious just a few hundred metres from me. I get up, paternal worry cracking through the hopelessness and giving me enough strength and motivation to move. I can't tell much about the person because they're all dressed up in ski wear head to toe, I can just tell they're small, unconscious, and about to be dead if they don't get medical help quickly.

With powers I didn't know I still had in me I get walking,carrying the child on my back. I walk towards the only place I know there will be people. I walk despite my body being famished and exhausted, because this kid needs me.

I come up to the farm, where the owner is now busy entertaining dressed up guests. It's not like the last time I was here when it was just my family, this time the place has a lot of strangers around just looking and admiring the place. I probably make quite a sight.

She goes white when she sees me. She thought I was dead and now I'm there, which is dangerous for her both because I have reason to and might attack her directly, and because if what she did to my family got out she would be ruined. She was a politician. Her reputation was everything.

However I ignore her and call for help. Protecting comes before punishing. People are immediately filling in around me to help with the boy.

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metamorphesque · 2 years

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bts as poems (mary oliver edition)

The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

I know, you never intended to be in this world. But you’re in it all the same.

so why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it. There is so much to admire, to weep over.

And to write music or poems about.

Bless the feet that take you to and fro. Bless the eyes and the listening ears. Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste. Bless touching.

On Meditating, Sort Of

Some days I fall asleep, or land in that even better place — half asleep — where the world, spring, summer, autumn, winter — flies through my mind in its hardy ascent and its uncompromising descent.

So I just lie like that, while distance and time reveal their true attitudes: they never heard of me, and never will, or ever need to.

Of course I wake up finally thinking, how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints — all that glorious, temporary stuff.

How I Go Into the Woods

Ordinarily I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable. I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my ways of praying, as you no doubt have yours. Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing. If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.

To Begin With, the Sweet Grass

What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mostly myself. Never mind that I had to, since somebody had to. That was many years ago. Since then I have gone out from my confinements, though with difficulty. I mean the ones that thought to rule my heart. I cast them out, I put them on the mush pile. They will be nourishment somehow (everything is nourishment somehow or another). And I have become the child of the clouds, and of hope. I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is. I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger. And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.

The Ponds

Still, what I want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled -- to cast aside the weight of facts and maybe even to float a little above this difficult world. I want to believe I am looking into the white fire of a great mystery. I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing -- that the light is everything -- that it is more than the sum of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.

Dogfish

If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin, which was rough as a thousand sharpened nails.

And you know what a smile means, don’t you?

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

...

Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all know how that one goes, don’t we?

When Death Comes

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse ... I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. … I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

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forbidding-souda · 2 years

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may i request, Mikan Tsumiki, Kazuichi Souda, Gundham Tanaka, Korekiyo Shinguuji and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu findin' their wendigo S/O severly ingerd in the woods? Im sorry, im a sucker for wendigos!!!

Mikan Tsumiki, Kazuichi Souda, Gundham Tanaka, Korekiyo Shinguuji, and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu finding their wendigo S/O injured in the woods

psa and for anyone new: i am native and this is my culture. if you're going to say something 'informative' in the inbox just know: i know what you're going to say and I ! do not ! care !. Talk to the wall.

anyway why is this website so fucking annoying to write on now jesus christ have ya'll noticed this or is it literally just mine - update I think it's literally just mine because my sideblog doesn't do the thing this blog does.

mod souda life update idk: me and my friends went to disney and I met loki and then I cried W.

currently watching: shrek forever after

-Mod Souda

✫✫✫✫✫

Mikan Tsumiki

✫ She worries about you very little. You're an entity, and therefore you are something greater than her. She has hardly even seen you in pain, the times in which she thought you were in pain ended up being a false alarm. Those times were triggered by the buckets of blood covering your body. Not your blood, of course, but she didn't realize that fast enough. Beyond using her nurse-experience to clean you up (you notice her slow movement when it comes to wiping you down as well as her soft tone) she really doesn't know much about how to treat you. You were once human, yes of course, but does your body still function like one?

It's a truly horrific sight: you curled up in the shade of a tree that seemed to have died many months ago. When Mikan came across it, she immediately held onto the straps of her tote as she raced over, her mouth releasing gasps of worry, sounds she didn't even hear. You unwound yourself, holding yourself up on your hands and feet and watching her approach.

"Oh no," she keeps repeating. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

You want to wave it off, shaking your body hand at her, but she is crouching and assessing the wounds before you can even try to.

She asks if it hurts, her dull, purple eyes staring up at you with the brightness of an amethyst. You have never seen her this focused before. The steadiness of her hands and the furrowing of her brows is something new. You can hardly keep your eyes off of her.

It's a cut from a branch on your thigh, that's all it is. But it stings and hinders your movement. You don't like being in pain.

She bandages you up as if you were a child, kissing the gauze and looking up at you for approval. You ruffle her hair with your clawed hands.

✫ She trips all the time in that land of yours. She scrapes herself, gets leaves caught in her hair, and falls into spits of mud.

✫ ^ You have given up trying to catch her. You just watch her fall.

✫ She doesn't see you as something dangerous, and you found that out rather quickly. She always blushes when you look at her too deeply, and she stumbles whenever she refers to the things she feels about you. It's odd to be treated with such a care.

✫ You hardly get hurt so she hardly has to treat you, but still, she carries all of her instruments in her bag. She likes the thought of being the stronger person, especially considering you're the most dangerous one.

✫ You're an entity yet she gets to take care of you.

✫ It's like her dream come true.

Kazuichi Souda

✫ He is incredibly nervous when it comes to having to be to your assistance. He considers you something above him, so when he sees you sprawled out on the dirt, breathing slowly and eyes closed, his mind starts to race. What is there to do? He can't pick you up and drag you back into his home - he can't even do it if he tried. He thinks about running home and finding something. It reminds him of when he was just beginning to work on his self-driving motorcycle, and after awhile of fucking with the mechanics, to test if it would work he would grab the handles and run down the road, giving it energy before letting it go. He would be running too fast to stop immediately, and he'd be running alongside the bike, his lungs burning and his mouth open. Can he run like that again?

"H-Hey." His shaky hands travel your form, trying to find the source of the bleeding. He is too scared to touch you. He hovers like a ghost. "I'm here."

You can hear him but you can't find it within yourself to respond, instead you just wave a hand, putting in minimal effort to move. You can feel his eyes on you, the blanket he pulled from the house brushes against your cold flesh. Just get it over with, you think. Another part of you is curious - what is he going to do? How does he expect to treat a monster like yourself?

He presses his lips to the base of your skull. "You'll be okay."

Those are lines he's heard in movies, comforting things he knows he is supposed to say. You're not something that watches movies, and you're not something that even vaguely consumes media, so these are the words of an angel to you.

I'm going to be okay, you think. I'm going to be okay.

✫ He honestly has no idea what to use, he just knows that you're supposed to press something to the bleeding or whatever. He is too panicked to even think to look it up - he doesn't have time for that!

✫ His main goal is to try and use his words to make you feel better.

✫ He never realized how useless he can be in situations like this - of course he had a clue, but actually being there is so...

✫ He is neither good with his words nor steady enough to be good at his hands beyond repairing and upgrading machinery, and you are not a machine, far from it, which makes this ten times worse.

✫ The way he goes about it is just supporting you as you heal in a natural way.

Gundham Tanaka

✫ Even though he would never think of you like this directly, he cannot deny the fact that you are more animal than human. This has its benefits as well as its flaws. Truthfully, it helps him understand you better, yet at the same time it puts errors in the two of you's levels of communication. Some of the things you do radiant beast - the way your head cocks when you hear a sound, or the way you press your head closer to him when you want affection. He doesn't hang around humans, not too much, so he is personally unsure as to if this is something humans usually do. He heals you as if you were an animal.

He's calm as he does it as well. His hands do not waver, his eyes do not wander. You cannot determine if he thinks of you as his patient. Under the heavy bleeding and the lax muscles, he presses his shirt against the wound. His jacket is tossed, resting beside him, as he sits shirtless in the nights air.

It's the sound of your breaths, that's all that is there.

He tries to sit you up, but it all depends on your compliance. He's strong enough to rest your upper half on his body if he stands up tall enough.

He doesn't say a word. His lips are tight and his neck is stiff. His mind is too busy. You're going to live, he knows that much. You are the strongest creature he's ever encountered, both emotionally and physically. You're going to live.

✫ Imma be real I don't think he even knew you could bleed.

✫ He is definitely taking mental note in his head about how long it takes you to heal and such.

✫ He holds your hand: your big, bloodied hand. The wet blood seeps into the folds of his palm. He doesn't mind, he doesn't even wipe it away.

Shinguuji Korekiyo

✫ Your homely seclusion in the forest is a 43 minutes drive away from his ward. He has no problem traveling all that way, especially when it's to see you, but he does have a problem with the idea of driving all the way back just to get you somewhere safe. He didn't bring anything helpful with him, why would he? To him, you are this supernatural entity that can have no harm inflicted on it. Why, then, why are you laying in the dirt in a puddle of your own blood. There's a hospital just 14 minutes away. Maybe he can get some help, but what a stupid idea that is, as there is nobody except him that can help you.

He tries to communicate with you. "Where is it coming from?" He asks. You have to form words, you know it's the only way he can come up with a solution. He will not assume what is wrong nor assume the way you want him to fix it.

You have no issue with talking to him anyway. You love it when he acknowledges you.

He checks you gums, checks what color they are. "You're okay," he says in a bit of an off-put tone (does he truly believe what he is saying?).

What he does is try to clean you up. He grabs something and tries to wipe the blood away, will this make you more comfortable?

His bare hand runs up and down your chest, the bandages around his hands long discarded, as he tries to soothe you. "You're going to heal from this in a very quick manner, I can sense it already. The energy you contain goes beyond any pain you may be feeling."

You just hum, placing your head upon some leaves, basking in the feeling of his flesh.

✫ It's the trick of the light, it must be. You do heal rather fast, he knew it, he knew it would be true.

✫ You pass his expectations seemingly every time he sees you.

✫ He stays with you that entire night, by the way. He stays with you and makes sure you're fine.

✫ Even when the moon raises and he can't even see his own hands, he stays there with you. Whatever animal is out there, they must fear your presence, weak or otherwise.

✫ He hums songs to you as he waits for your strength to return.

✫ You truly have never felt more at peace then there with him.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

✫ There are forests all around city, and at this point, he can navigate them all. He recognizes the claw marks that you leave around when you walk, he recognizes your footsteps and your stench. What he doesn't recognize is the blood trail. A wild animal you killed? No, you never drag it away, you eat it where it lay. When he discovers your body, warm and still, he feels the most powerful wave of emotions come over him.

His hands start to tremble and his body starts to shake. He speaks out loud, whispering small no's to himself, his hands too scared to even touch you. Will trying to help just make it worse? What if he's the thing that ends up killing you? His breaths are fast and bothered.

"H-Hey now," he tries to speak. "Please talk to me."

It takes a second before your eyes even open. He doesn't notice, he is facing your back, and you wait before you even announce your conscious state. You like hearing him beg.

He notices the twitch of your finger, and immediately he sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

You turn your head. "You're crying."

The blood still pours from your body - it doesn't stop but you stop feeling it.

"Because I was so... fucking scared," his face is extremely red.

You put your claw to his cheek, touching the wetness, acting surprised as you lean closer to him. Every movement hurts but you deal with it just for him security.

✫ He worries so much about you. You live in a more dangerous lifestyle than he does. One day he can go into the woods to find you and you'll be gone forever - and he'll never know what happened.

✫ It's something he fears.

✫ So when he walked into the depths to find you alone in your own blood, he thought his life was over, he thought this would be it.

✫ He can't stand the thought of being away from you.

✫ He wants to protect you more than anything, though he recognizes that you will always be the one protecting him, even if you're bloodied and weak.

#mikan tsumiki x reader #monster lover #monster s/o #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #gundham tanaka #korekiyo shinguji x reader #fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader

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velvetcloxds · 3 years

Text

BREATHE| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count:2642

Warning: mentions of abusive family member, mentions of abuse, mentions of dead body

Summary: Scott, Stiles and Isaac create a situation where Derek and the reader are forced to talk about the very obvious feelings that they have for each other.

“I don’t know,” I say softly, looking out into the hallway to check for my aunt before softly closing the door behind me, “She’s barely over the fact that I got a B on my midterm paper,” I tell him, moving my books out of the way to sit down on my bed.

“Was it bad?” Isaac asks after a second and I sigh, tracing my fingers under my eye where there should be a completely healed bruise by now.

“It’s been worse,” I answer quickly and he sighs on his end, knowing by now that I wouldn’t tell him if it actually were bad, “I’m fine Isaac, besides it would be much worse without the whole werewolf thing,,” I add, looking up when the front door shuts.

“Was that her?” Isaac asks, the tone of his voice tense. I sigh, jumping up from the bed, pulling the curtain open slightly to see her driving out of the driveway. I smile softly.

“Looks like I’ve got the house to myself for a few hours,” I tell him and hold the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I bend forward to pull my boots on.

“So, does that mean you’ll help us out tonight?” Isaac asks not missing a beat, I smile again as I stand up to grab my jacket.

“Yes, and it also means that the whole lot of you can climb down from the roof and meet me at the front door like normal people,” I say, hearing Isaac’s little laugh in the background as I end the call, the sounds of multiple footsteps on the roof following me as I make my way to the door.

“Why don’t I get to be on the roof?” I hear Stiles ask as I open the door, pulling my jacket on at the same time.

“You know why,” Derek tells him with a cold look causing Stiles roll his eyes.

“You fall down one time and you’re labelled a fall risk,” Stiles notes waving a hand around as his other hand pulls at his plaid shirt.

“It was not one time,” Derek replies very quickly becoming annoyed, “It was three times, and it was but minutes apart,” He adds and lifts a warning brow when Stiles moves to pretest.

“Good evening boys,” I interject before the little spat could continue. Isaac and Scott look over to me with small smiles and apologetic eyes as Derek and Stiles continue to stare each other down, “Derek,” I note formally, making him give Stiles one more warning gaze before locking eyes with me.

“Y/n,” He replies in the same tone after a moment, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket without breaking eye contact for even a second, “You look good,” He says simply, looking me over quickly before meeting my eyes again.

“So do you,” I say and he nods slowly, eyes raking over my face quickly before turning to Scott who is probably waiting for a moment to explain the plan. I smile to myself as I reach behind me to close the door.

“Stiles was listening to his dad’s police radio and there seems to be another body somewhere in the woods,” Scott explains and I furrow my brows at the very vague explanation.

“Is it a werewolf body? The body of someone who was murdered by a werewolf? A hunter? The body of another human sacrifice victim?” I ask, looking between all of them, their blank expressions making it clear that they don’t have an answer to my question.

“Does it matter?” Scott offers carefully and I scoff softly before nodding.

“Yes, it matters, if we’re trying to protect Beacon Hills from supernatural killers and therefore have to find this here dead person in order to that, then I’m with you. But if we’re just going on a little scavenger hunt that’s actually someone else’s job, then I’d like to inform you all that it’s very cold out here and I’m going back inside,” I say, pulling my jacket tighter against my body to emphasize my point.

“She’s right,” Derek notes and I nod at him, “You three said that this was serious and that time was of the essence and so far, it’s been a waste of my time.”

“Time you would’ve spent doing what, Derek? Brooding?” Stiles questions with a mocking smile, shifting back when Derek pulls a hand out of his pocket.

“Look it is serious, we’re not trying to waste anyone’s time,” Scott tells us and rolls his eyes when Stiles moves in behind him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he looks over at Derek, “We think it’s one of the missing people that’s been killed by whoever’s going around sacrificing people.” He explains and hits Stiles’ hand away from his shoulder.

“Fine,” I say and step forward to walk past them and down the stairs, “We’ll separate into two groups; one group takes the right side and the other takes the left. Who wants to come with me?” I ask looking up at the four of them.

“Derek,” Isaac says very quickly and Derek looks at him with a questioning stare, “It’s either you go with Y/n or you go with Scott and Stiles,” He elaborates and then shrugs as he looks down, Scott and Stiles doing the same when I look over at them, there is definitely something going on here.

“Or Isaac and Derek could go together,” I offer, mainly just to see their reactions.

“No.” Scott says looking a little alarmed as he looks at me. “You’re not exactly Stiles’ biggest fan either. You’d murder him before we even left the yard,” He explains, stuttering in between sentences and I nod slowly, hiding a smile as the boys attempt to hide their frantic glares.

“Okay then, I guess it’s just the two of us,” I tell Derek who looks a little lost for a second as he stares down at me before he nods quickly and makes his way to my side, making sure to give the remaining boys an unplaced glare as he does.

“We’ll meet back here in half an hour, whether we find the body or not,” Derek says beginning to turn before stopping and pointing at Scott and Isaac. “Don’t let Stiles out of your sight,” He says sternly to which the boys nod, “And you, don’t be an idiot,” He adds, pointing at Stiles who is very clearly unhappy with the order. Stiles scoffs.

“I didn’t want you in my group in the first place,” He says and extends the notion towards me when he notices the smile on my lips that I was sure I’d hidden well, “Screw you, Y/n,” He adds as Scott and Isaac pull him from the steps and carefully push him towards the right direction.

“I hate the woods,” I announce softly as we still at the edge of the reserve, looking out onto endless rows of trees, “It gives me the creeps,” I add, tilting my head to get a glance of Derek’s reaction, feeling slightly less annoyed when the softest hint of a smile graces his lips.

“We’ll be out before you know it,” He tells me, not quite meeting my gaze, “You can stay close to me if it helps,” He announces with a quick glance before zipping up his jacket and starting to head off the trail. I take a second to myself, considering the idea of going into this stupid little forest following Derek of all people in there alone and let out a soft sigh.

“Wait up!” I shout, almost jogging to catch up with him despite his offer to keep close to me.

We continue like this for a while, staying close as we look around, sniffing the air for anything that could indicate that there’s a body around here, the only sound being that of our shoes crushing leaves and fallen branches as we walk.

“What?” Derek asks, stopping suddenly after I let out another tired sigh. I frown as I look up at him, “Why do you keep doing that?” He asks and points towards the zip of my jacket which I’ve been moving up and down for the last five minutes. I shrug. “And the sighing, what’s with the sighing?“ He adds in a rush, eyes large as he lets out a loud sigh of his own. I smile up at him.

“I’m bored,” I admit and he folds his arms over his chest, “And don’t even get me started on the silent searching which is driving me mad by the way. Like honestly, Derek, why won’t you talk to me?” I ask, dropping my hands from my jacket to stuff them into my pockets. He looks me over carefully before looking away.

“I don’t know,” He says after a moment and I scoff softly.

“Would you prefer it if I talked, because I have so much to say,” I tell him, taking a step to the side to catch his gaze.

“We need to find this body, Y/n,” He tells me, voice soft and distant. I shake my head, reaching a hand out to stop him from walking away.

“There’s no body, Derek. Well, I don’t think at least,” I say and he frowns, “You really didn’t notice how weird the guys were acting at the house?”

“They’re always weird.”

“Yes, but this was different. They planned this, all of this, somehow. I think they just wanted us to end up alone somewhere where we’re forced to really talk,” I explain and steady myself when my unneeded arm gesture causes me to lose balance.

“Talk about what?” He asks me and I furrow my brows in confusion.

“Don’t do that, you know about what. About you and me. About us,” I say and then shake my head when his eyes largen as a result of my words, “Don’t freak out on me, okay. Just listen,” I say carefully dropping my hand from his arm where it’s been holding him in place.

“Fine. I won’t freak out.”

“You like me,” I deadpan, mind already filling with about a thousand different ways I could’ve approached this, “I mean I think you do and that’s good because boy do I like you too. You’re just not so good with the words and the expression of the feelings and so truth be told I could be completely wrong, but I also don’t think I am. So, to be quite frank I was just curious as to when you were planning on asking me out?” I end, breathless for no reason as I carefully take in the way his expression softens, eyes raking over my face slowly, “I mean you do like me, right?” I ask, my own face softening from slight excitement to unsettled uncertainty as he remains quiet, looking between me and the trees behind me, “You don’t.” I say and let out a soft sigh, realizing how completely silly I must look making this big scene when he very clearly doesn’t feel the same at all.

“Y/n, wait…” He says quickly stupidly attempting to stop me from walking away from him even though I’m already out of reach, “Where are you going?” He asks, deciding to follow me instead.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, fighting the urge to either cry or kick his pretty little ass, “What do you care anyway?” I muse bitterly as I hear him getting closer to me.

“Will you stop?” He asks me annoyed and I feel his hands surrounding my waist to pull me to a stop in front of him, “Will you just give me a bloody minute?” He adds, breath against my neck as he holds me against his body, “If I let go, will you promise not to walk away?” He asks carefully and I nod, his hands moving back and away slowly before I turn around to face him, the seriousness in his eyes catching me by surprise, “I don’t know how to talk to you,” He starts and lets out a long sigh, “It’s like every word I know just completely disappears from my mind the second I see you. The second you smile. The second you say my stupid name. I can’t talk to you,” He explains and my lips almost immediately pull into a smile as response.

“Derek-“

“No. Just let me get this out,” He says, smiling as well as he moves his hands to my waist once again. “I think you’re amazing. You’re good and kind and you barely know anyone of us, but you’d still risk your life to help us out and you’re beautiful, which I should’ve said first, but you are. And you’re so closed off from everyone, but I can still tell exactly what you’re feeling by just looking at you, which is ridiculously unfair because as soon as I convince myself I feel one way for you it changes completely and suddenly I can’t do a bloody thing without thinking about you,” He shakes his head slightly as I let out a soft laugh, lifting my hands to his chest, “Yes, I like you. I like you so much that I feel like I can’t breathe,” He ends and I’m sure my cheeks have turned about every shade of red in but a matter of seconds.

“Breathe, Derek,” I say softly, leaning closer as my fingers move over his chest slowly.

“You’re not being fair,” He says and I can hear his heartbeat rising in pace.

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask carefully, looking up at him through my lashes, biting at my lip to draw his attention there. He smiles, a tint of rose barely touching at his cheeks before disappearing and I’d call him out on it, but the sudden strength of his hands pulling me tighter against his body has me somewhat preoccupied. He leans in as well, nose touching mine.

“This might be a start,” He whispers before catching my lips with his, kissing me slowly yet urgently as I move my hands to his neck, pulling myself even closer as the taste of mint meets my tongue.

Whistles and applause are what pulls us apart, Derek smiling against my lips before he moves away from me, loosely keeping a hand around my waist as we turn to see the boys coming up from behind us.

“I knew this would work,” Stiles announces as the three of them still in front of us. “This is why you need to let me make all of the plans, Scott, because clearly they always work,” He adds excitedly, waving his hands in the air between us. Isaac and Scott simply smiling as they look from him to us.

“I’m happy for you two,” Isaac says with an almost brotherly smile.

“Do you think they’ll have a June wedding?” Stiles asks in thought, smiling as another thought comes to mind, “Do you think we’ll have to ask her for him?” He adds and Scott nudges him when Derek growls lowly.

“We should get you home, your aunt could get home soon,” Scott tells me and we all nod in union before the tree of them turn to walk away in the direction of my house. I try to do the same, smiling when Derek pulls me back softly.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” He states simply and I look up at him confused. He laughs before placing another soft kiss on my lips, “Out date.” He clarifies and smiles happily when I realize what he’s talking about, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” He says again and I nod.

“I’ll bring the dictionary,” I muse, laughing softly as he rolls his eyes, pulling me with him as we follow the boys home.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

#derek hale imagine #derek hale one shot #derekhale x reader #derek x reader #derek hale imagines #derek hale #teenwolf x reader #teen wolf #fluff

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cornacopicimagines · 4 years

Text

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well.

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride."

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable.

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything.

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

3K notes · View notes

lilxberry · 4 years

Text

Underestimated - Thorin’s Company

Requested by: @iwazoomingouttahere

I think this is how I request haha, could I have a Thorins company x reader where she’s the youngest so they assume she’s not a good fighter so they’re all shocked when she takes out a whole orc pack basically on her own? I loved all your other imagines and now I’m rambling haha sorry.. 💕

You’re the first person to request something, I’m so happy, thank you

Warning: Fluff. Moody lil’ reader. Mentions of violence. Mentions of blood. The company being absolute smothers. That’s it I think (not too sure if I used any curse words, pretty sure I didn’t this time.)

Words: 1,770

Pairings: Thorin’s Company x Reader (female reader) (young reader)

_______________

Being the youngest seriously sucked. You had at least expected it from the dwarves, but for Bilbo to undermine your capabilities had truly flabbergasted you. ‘HE CAN’T EVEN LIFT AN ACTUAL SWORD!’ The bitter thought was loud as it bounced around in your head.

You trailed behind the company, minus Gandalf who, once again, disappeared to Mahal knows where. You kicked every rock and stone that were unfortunate to be along the path you walked. Your head was down as you mumbled insults about each and every person that walked before you.

“Bunch of elf loving, lettuce eating idiots.”

Granted, your insults were never too harsh when spoken about the people you’ve come to care about and travel with, but they had seriously infuriated you to know end. “Stupid Dwalin and his stupid bold head with his stupid axe, getting in the way of my kill.”

Fíli and Kíli slowed their walk until they fell behind enough to join your side, Kíli on your left, Fíli on your right. “Who are you cursing under your breath now, little mouse?” The older prince spoke as Kíli slung his arms over your shoulder.

“Yeah pipsqueak, why so moody?”

You huffed in annoyance and threw his arm off of your shoulders then folding your own across your chest, picking up speed, forcing the brothers to follow you. “Nothing.”

Fíli and Kíli snickered at your grouchy attitude and rolled their eyes, picking up their own speed to re-join you. “Now, now, don’t get your undergarments in a twist.”

You clenched your jaw and bit down harshly on your tongue, refraining from saying something you may regret to either of the two. Just as Fíli opened his mouth to say yet another snarky, teasing remark, Thorin announces that they were to stop and set up camp.

You breathed out a sigh in relief and quickly headed towards the opening that you’ve come across and proceed to slide your knapsack off of your shoulder and place in on the floor, pulling out your bedroll and setting it up ready for later that night.

Thorin gave orders to everyone, Bombur and Balin to sit tight whilst the others go collect wood and hunt for meat. You marched over towards Thorin with a determined step, chest puffed out, oozing confidence. “What do you want me to do?”

Thorin turned his gaze towards you and flashed you a small smile. “Don’t worry, go sit and read that book of yours, relax.” He ruffled your hair as he walked past you. You let your shoulder slump as you sighed in defeat, trudging over towards your bedroll, sitting down cross legged, elbows rested atop your knees and your face held within your hands.

‘Bloody dwarves.’

_______________

You and the others sat around the fire, an amber glow illuminating each member of the company as they ate the rabbit stew Bombur had prepared with the help of Balin and Nori. They roared with laughter, but you sat there silently, not wanting to partake in their boisterous manners and jokes.

“What’s the matter lass? You tired?” Bofur spoke, drawing the company’s attention towards you.

“Are you tired? It’s fine if you want to head off to sleep.” Nori added, everyone curious if that was the reason for your unusual quietness.

You huffed in annoyance and set your nearly empty bowl of food down by the side of you with a thud, shocking some of the members. “No. I am NOT tired. No in the way you may think.” You uttered the last part of your answer quietly, fed up with how overbearing and annoying yet oblivious they were being. You stood hastily and began to walk to the treeline. “I’m going for a stroll.”

The other members were left stunned by your little outburst as they watched you quickly retrieve your weapon before disappearing beyond the trees. Just as Dwalin stood to go get you to return to camp, Balin placed a hand on to his brothers’ arm, stopping him from following you.

“Let her go, she clearly needs some time to herself.” Of course, Balin was just as concerned as any of the other members but knew Gandalf had chosen you to join them for a reason. Plus, they wouldn’t be far behind if you found yourself in a spot of trouble.

Dwalin grunted something unintelligible as he plonked himself back down beside Balin, still keeping an eye on where you exited the clearing and entered the darkened woods.

_______________

As you wander through the forest, weaving in and out of trees, you cursed the dwarves and even the hobbit under your breath. You leant against a large tree, trying to calm your breathing and will a sense of peace to take over, but all you felt was anger.

Anger towards the dwarves. Anger towards the hobbit. Anger towards Gandalf. Anger towards yourself. Just pure anger.

You closed your eyes, listening to the serene sounds of the woodland area when all of the sudden, a snap of a twig pried your eyes open faster than the crack of a whip. You rolled your eyes, assuming it was your overbearing companions. “I swear to Mahal…just leave me be.”

You noted the silence that followed your statement causing your eyebrows to furrow. You stepped forward from the trunk of the tree and walked to peer around it. That was when you came face to face with a Warg, an orc sat atop of it.

Your eyes widened, the stench of its breath overwhelmed your sense, fear sunk in and overtook your body. You forced yourself to take a few steps back. The beast snarled. You slowly raised your hand and gripped the hilt of your sword tightly as it took a few steps towards you.

The further you stepped back, and the closer it stepped towards, more and more orcs upon Wargs revealed themselves. There had been at least 7 by your rushed and panicked count. You swallowed down the lump in your throat, bringing your other hand to grip your weapon.

Just as the Warg lunged towards you, you unsheathed your sword and swung at its throat, cutting down your first attacker. As the Warg fell and the orc crashed to the floor along with it, a loud pained cry came from the beast as its final sound.

The volume of the cry had been so loud that the sound carried all the way to where the company had set up camp. Everyone was up and alert, already heading towards the forest, weapons in hand, purely concerned for your safety.

“Y/N!” The members called loudly, each panicked, unknowing of your whereabouts apart from the occasional scream, fearing that one of them may have come from you.

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!” The fear that they couldn’t save you grew, making them more irrational in their choice of direction. They had all spread out, splitting off in different directions, all in the hope of spotting their youngest member.

They searched and searched until finally, Bilbo had spotted you. “SHE’S OVER HERE!” He shouted over towards his companions who soon barrelled towards the direction he was in. But once arriving and witnessing the full extent of the situation, they all became slack jawed and wide eyed.

There you stood, over an orc that scrambled to get away, surrounded by its fellow attackers. You buried your sword deep into its chest, therefor ending its life. Wargs and orcs littered the ground surrounding you, all dead and bloody.

You heaved for breath, chest rising and falling as you took in your surroundings. You were covered in blood also, though majority of it belonging to your enemies. Another twig snapped and you whipped around with your weapon raised in front of you.

But unlike earlier, you were met with the sight of 13 dwarves and a hobbit. You relaxed, sighing as you let your arms drop, sword stained with blood lowering along with them. “Hey guys.”

The company had become rather speechless to what they had just bear witness to. Their youngest, most “fragile” member had just demolished an entire pack of orcs and their Wargs, all on their lonesome.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared at them, a feeling of uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach. “Uh-what’s wrong? Hello?”

Thorin stormed straight towards you, so much so that you even flinched slightly at his sudden movements. Once he stood tall before you, you shrank into yourself, expecting a loud, gruelling lecture about heading away from everyone, but he pleasantly surprised you when he grinned down at you and brought you into a hug.

You froze slightly, unsure of what to do. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He spoke, although you could hear the proud grin through his tone. You smiled ever so slightly as he broke away from you.

“It appears we had underestimated you lass.” Balin spoke, earning nods and hums in agreement from the others.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME??!!” You exclaimed loudly, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

The others chuckled, a grin forcing its way on to your own face. Thorin put a hand on your shoulder and directed you towards the others. Dwalin slapped your back, making you lurch forward. You brushed your hair back which fell in front of your face from the sheer force of his pat and smiled up at him.

“Ye did good lass.” He spoke in his usual gruff voice, although an ever so small smile was present on his face hidden by his kempt beard.

“I know.” You placed your hands on your hips and walked past the group, heading back towards camp, confidence once again oozing off of you. The nights events surely boosted your ego.

Fíli and Kíli had quickly caught up towards you and bumped your side with their elbows. “Honestly, how did you do it?” You laughed and slung your arms over their shoulders.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’m absolutely exhausted from being so badass.” You smirked and the others who trailed behind you back to camp laughed at your antics. “Maybe now you’ve all learned to be a little less judgemental when it comes to age.” You spoke, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

You removed your arms from around the boys’ shoulders and headed over towards your bedroll once you re-entered the clearing where camp was set up. “Goodnight lads.” And with that, you laid down into your bedroll and tucked yourself in, falling fast asleep soon after.

The others smiled at you as many followed your example, excluding those on watch. They were sure to never underestimate you again.

_______________

MY FIRST REQUEST AHHHHH

Honestly, I really hope I didn’t mess up too much with the story. I was a bit iffy about the ending but I really don’t know how I should finish it up other than what I’ve written

I hope you enjoy and I especially hope that this fits what the requester wanted!

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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mermaidxatxheart · 3 years

Text

Better Together Chapter 3

Here's chapter three. I'll keep this short. Let me know what you think. If you like this chapter and want to be added to my tag list, please let me know. Reblogs are most welcome, it lets others view my work. Comments are even better, it lets me know I'm doing a good job-we all need validation once in a while.

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Violence, language, Poe being cute.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The cliffs are further than you originally thought. Your legs are cramping, throbbing. Poe lets you rest as long as he can but it’s still crucial to reach the elusive cliffs before dark.

He helps you over massive logs, crooked roots, down sharp hills. His hands are firm on your waist as he lifts you over fallen branches, they’re steady in yours as he helps you clamber over the gnarled roots.

He never once complains, never once tells you to get over it, never once makes you feel weak or useless. Every once in a while, he’ll glance over his shoulder at you, his pretty eyes lingering on your face for a second before smiling. You can feel his eyes on you as you stoop to gather the vegetation samples. He’s never intrusive, only giving his help when you request it.

“I’ve thought of another reason the bugs are so big.” You huff, hauling yourself over another massive branch.

“Tell me.” He wipes his forehead.

“The trees are so big, they’re pumping so much O2 into the air that the bugs can get big enough to take as much as they need in.”

“Come again?”

“Bugs have big tubes that intake oxygen through their skin to their organs, bypassing the need for lungs. In the places we’ve populated, the oxygen level is way down compared to this place. They’d die before the air ever gets to their organs.”

“How do you fit so much in that brain of yours?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes, clinging to his shoulders as he lifts you over another root.

Finally-finally, the base of the cliffs come into view and you let out a sigh of relief. The light is already getting dimmer, so you’re just barely in time. Then you take a second to look up at the sheer wall of rocks in front of you. It shoots straight up, higher than you can even see at this range. The edge disappears into the clouds and you know there’s no way you can climb to the top. You’ll have to find a way around.

But maybe, if there’s a natural cave system, the mechs can make a decent base inside.

You follow Poe along the wall, resisting the urge to drop your arms. Now that the end of your day is in sight, your shoulders feel tighter than ever after holding your holopad in front of you all day.

Up ahead. You can see the shadow darker than the rest surrounding it. Poe seems to already have spotted it, turning towards it. His head swivels around to glance at the forest behind you.

“How’s that gut, kid?” He tosses over his shoulder at you and you want to make a snide remark about being the same age. But you don’t.

“Hard to tell. Relieved at finding the cave. But.” You leave it hanging.

“But.” He agrees, turning towards the entrance of the cave. He digs into his bag, pulling out a torch. You take it from him, falling into step next to him.

“Poe,” you start, shining the light towards the back of the cave.

“We’ll just go back about two hundred feet, just to make sure it’s empty. Then we’ll camp at the entrance.” He promises, looking over at you. You nod and follow him back. The sharp pebbles littering the cave floor jab into the bottom of your feet, but complaining about it won’t do much good now.

Two hundred feet back and it’s clear, no bones, no signs of a nest. Good to camp in. Poe shoulders his long gun and turns towards you, taking your hand and leading you back to the mouth of the cave.

“I’ll go get some firewood, start setting up camp.” He says, squeezing your hand once before leaving the cave once more.

You glance nervously towards the darkness behind you, before starting to pull materials out of your bag. You manage to scrape out an even space for two sleeping bags and a campfire in the middle. You get the meal rations out just as he starts to come back with his muscular arms full of wood.

“Looks good.” He comments, dumping the hardwood off to the side. While he sets up the fire, your eyes are searching the trees across from the cave, the splintered shards of rock creating a beach almost, a boundary from the thick grass.

You can still hear the creaking and groaning from the trees. At some points, with the right echo, it’s almost as if they’re alive. The trees sound as though they’re moving, waking up as the last of the light disappears. The constant groans during the day were just them shifting in their sleep, now they’re ready to move.

Did they sense the presence of two tiny beings crawling around them? Are they coming for you now? Or are you too minuscule in comparison and therefore not worth the hassle?

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Poe asks, looking up from the crackling fire.

“What if the trees are alive?” You ask worriedly and he laughs, pushing himself to come over and stand behind you.

“Okay, you’re way too tense. The trees aren’t alive. The wind is picking up out there, I think the temperature is about to drop. It’s natural for wood to expand and contract as it shifts. And if they are alive? Well, they’re too fucking tall to get us in here. I didn’t cut any trees to get this wood, just picked up what was scattered around.” He promises, those big, warm hands settling on your shoulders. You tense at the sudden touch, but it’s Poe-he's not going to hurt you. He would never hurt you.

“I might be a little uptight.” You admit sheepishly.

“It’s all the lack of orgasming.” He teases.

You open your mouth to fire back, but then his thumbs press deliciously into the flesh of your back and shoulders, and you’re cut off with a strangled moan. He squeezes, and then drags his thumbs up towards your hairline, your head dropping forward onto your chest and electric arcs race along your spine. He alternates his thumbs, pushing in and stroking upward on either side of your spinal column. Heat spirals through you as he slowly, methodically works all the tight muscles out of your back and shoulders. All the stress from worrying, all the aches from carrying the heavy pack and your holopad all day.

“Poe-�� you groan and he chuckles, guiding you forward to lay face down on your sleeping bag.

“Relax. We’ll eat in a minute.” He says softly, his breath ghosting across the back of your neck. His hands are strong, manipulating your flesh to get all the knots out along your back. He uses his knuckles to work out the taut muscles between your shoulder blades, easing the tension out of the bands of overworked, under appreciated tissue. He drags his fingertips up into your scalp and the stretch of it is heavenly. He squeezes the tightly wound muscles at the base of your neck and it sends tingles all the way down your spine as your breath comes out in a woosh.

Your eyes drift closed, drowning in the feel of it. He slowly works his way down the outside on your arms, getting all the sore muscles and you have to roll your face into your blanket to stifle the noise. To his immense credit, he doesn’t say anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed. He just keeps working until you’re a boneless mess in front of him. His hands grip your open ones down by your hips as he pauses.

“I’d offer to massage your legs, but even I know that’s too far.” He says teasingly and it’s probably a good call. But then he mumbles something under his breath, a little too quiet for you to hear properly, but it almost sounds like “I know my own limits.”

You start to push yourself up, but he stops you. “I never said I was done. Your feet must be killing you if mine are any indication.”

“You’re not wrong.” You mumble, laying back down. You shift and roll over onto your back, feeling your spine release the last bit of tension and it cracks as you exhale fully.

He eases your boots off and you flex your toes, trying to prepare for the inevitable tickling as soon as he touches you. He grips your ankle, all firm touches as he sits and pulls your foot onto his knee.

He glances at your face, which holds some kind of look of distress. “Don’t worry, I remember. I’m not looking to get kicked in the mouth again.” He grins, easing your apprehension once more.

“Why are you so good at this?” You sigh, resting your head back.

“At massages? I’ve had lots of practice.” He says casually.

You snort, having no doubt. “I meant all of it, dummy. Being isolated like this, you’re not afraid, you’re not losing your mi-iiind.” You gasp as he digs his first knuckle into the heel of your foot.

“You’re not losing your mind.” He laughs, dragging it up through your arch, adding more pressure so it won’t tickle. “And I’m okay with it because of you.” He adds. “You said that the bugs are big because they don’t have to be fast for survival. So, honestly, we’re probably the most dangerous things here.”

“So, why am I all jittery?” You ask, toes flexing as he presses his thumbs into your arch. Maker, it feels good.

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t trust me to have your back?” He says, and you know it’s a joke. He would never believe that, so you roll your eyes.

“You are such a jerk. I take it back. You’re the absolute worst.” You huff and he grins.

“You tell me, Y/N. What’s making you so on edge? Why are you so nervous? Don’t sugar coat or rationalize.” He prompts.

You think for a long minute. “The trees creaking? It’s always behind us. Never once has it come from in front of you. It’s always behind me. Sometimes, I felt like something was coming up behind us, not a butterfly or anything. But I’d turn around and there was nothing there, nothing I could see, anyway. And when we would stop for water, or because of my weak ass legs, I would feel eyes on me. Something was watching us, it felt wrong and dangerous. Predatory. Even though we might be the only sentient beings on this planet, I don’t think we’re the most dangerous. It doesn’t feel that way.” You shake your head.

He’s quiet for a long time, working out the arches of your foot. “Alright. We’ll stick together. No going off on your own to take a leak, or get some pretty flowers. If you go, I go. Understand? If you’re that freaked out, or sensing something that strongly, we stay together.” He says, meeting your eyes.

“Deal.” You agree. He finishes with your feet and you push yourself up, gesturing for him to lay down.

“What?” He asks.

“Your turn. Fair is fair, and you know I’m good at it.” You remind him and he chuckles, laying down for you. You straddle the back of his thighs as he lays face down on your sleeping bag and you start with the thickly corded muscles in his back. You work slowly, being just as methodical as he was. By the time you get to the base of his scalp with his thick, luscious dark hair, his breathing has evened out and it’s shallow. If he’s not already asleep, he will be soon. You work out the tension in his hands, spreading the tight muscles with the pads of your thumbs. He makes a soft noise and you smile down at him, brushing his soft hair out of his eyes.

You shift down to his feet, easing his shoes off, working the heels and arches until his soft snores reach you. You chuckle to yourself and lean over him, pressing a kiss to his big shoulder as you take his rifle and go to sit by the door of the cave for the first watch.

He sleeps for a while, the massage clearly helps. You eat your food while you watch the night bugs float by. They’re huge, but thankfully don’t seem interested in you. About halfway through the night, Poe jerks awake with a start, looking around.

“Over here.” You call, pushing yourself up.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep.” He mumbles, wiping his eyes before pulling you into a hug. You rest your head on his chest for a moment, listening to his heart, strong and steady, as he’s always been.

“Well, it would hardly be fair for me to lull you to sleep and then wake you up to take the first watch.” You grin. “Besides, you needed sleep.”

He pulls back and cups your face gently. “You okay?” He asks. That’s what you love about Poe, he’s never been shy. If he wants to touch you, he will. Holding hands, hugs, pushing your arm, guiding you through a crowd. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t particularly care for your boyfriend, or maybe that’s just who he is as a person. But you like the honesty of it. He’s never changed a part of himself to suit anyone else.

“Yeah. I didn’t shoot any bugs by accident.” You shrug and he grins.

“That’s my girl, keeping it together one thread at a time.” He teases and you laugh, dropping your head forward.

“Go get something to eat. I’m gonna go use the little girl’s tree and then get some sleep myself.” You yawn, handing him the gun back.

“Did you forget what I said already?” He rolls his eyes. “If you go, I go.” He nudges you towards the entrance. “Go pee. And then I can get food.”

“It's right there.” You complain.

“What if I’m over there, stuffing my face, and you’re over here with your pants down, and some bat the size of a bantha carries you off into the night? How am I supposed to make it back to the ship?”

“So, you’re admitting you’re useless without me?” You tease and he searches your eyes for a minute before straightening and walking past you, shoulders brushing softly.

“Yes.” He adds and you pump your fists in triumph, turning to follow him. He leads you to the nearest tree, and waits on the side facing the cave while you walk into the dark shadows. Admittedly, you’re much less brave now. It’s so dark, neither of the planet’s two moons are visible behind the cloud cover. The only light is from Poe’s flashlight.

You quickly unbuckle your pants and lean back against the tree, nerves rattled. Your bladder freezes, refusing to relax.

“What’s the hold up?” He asks.

“You’re listening.” You mutter, trying to coax it out by repeatedly tensing and relaxing your muscles.

“Seriously? Now you have stage fright? It’s not like I haven’t heard you go before.” He reminds you and you cover your face with a groan. Shit, he’s right. Just fucking do it.

“Can you just… like… five steps, that’s all I’m asking.” You please and he grumbles but stomps loud enough for you to hear him walk away. It takes another second, but finally, you go. Peeing against a tree is hard work when you have a vagina.

You take care of your business and buckle up, walking back around the tree to find Poe exactly where you left him, having not walked away at all. “Dirty, rotten trickster.” You mutter and he slings his arm around your shoulders.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m not answering you. Good night.” You huff and turn to leave him at the entrance, before you pause and turn back. You quickly kiss his cheek and mumble a quick “eat something,” before walking away completely. The kiss was unprompted, and probably not very professional, but he very easily could have made you feel crazy earlier and didn’t.

You settle down on your sleeping bag in front of the fire, a chill sweeping through you. It’s not cold outside, but it could just be from being still for so long.

After a minute, you can hear him rustling through his bag and then the fire gets warmer in front of you. You smile and drift into unconsciousness.

In your dream, Poe is talking to you. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying, his words are muffled, and every once in a while, the crackling from the fire drowns him out. But his words are soft and gentle. His eyes are looking at your sleeping form, warm and melted chocolate in the light of the flames.

You move, ghost like, towards the opening, drawn to something outside. But the outside isn’t the same. There aren’t any trees as tall as the buildings on Coruscant. There’s white walls, smooth black floors; cold-sterile. A door hisses open to your right and you’re sucked through like a vacuum. This room is all black, red lights dot the walls sporadically and there are two uncomfortable looking contraptions in the middle, tables with metal straps, but upright and facing each other.

The floor drops out from under you and there are two men fighting with lightsabers, one a wicked looking double edged red blade, the other an elegant, cool blue. The one with the red saber, his face is horrifying, red and black streaks down his face and dangerous horns protruding from his bald head. The other man is young, short reddish hair, cream colored robes. They’re fighting for their lives around a massive return tunnel in the center of the floor.

A big gust of wind blows you down the tunnel and you cry out, rolling to a stop in the middle of the trees. You don’t know where you are, all the giant landscape looks the same. Your heart is pounding wildly as you turn around. Something is definitely alive, definitely evil.

As you turn, you spot your best friend, your partner, your commander. He’s fighting someone. You can’t see who, they’re just a dark shape-an outline. “Poe!” You cry out, trying to move through the dense foliage to get to him, to help him!

The shadowy figure pulls a knife out of thin air and plunges it into Poe’s chest, dead center. His warm brown eyes flick over to you as you scream, the earth trembling with your anger. The shadowy figure pulls the knife slowly from his chest and then stabs it up through his jaw, into his soft palate, piercing his brain. You scream, feeling your entire being shake apart at the molecular level, dispersing into the wind as Poe slumps to the ground, unmoving.

Chapter Four

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isayamasideblog · 3 years

Text

On a Beautiful Mountainside, I Love You

How easy it was to run. Runaways. That’s what they are.

Mikasa never thought it’d happen like this. On that night, in the Marleyan refugee campsite, that fine line that settled so comfortably between them was crossed.

“What am I to you?”

The vulnerable rasp of his voice scraped Mikasa’s ears in such a striking surprise that she couldn’t grasp if this moment was real or not. Never did she think that this would happen, never did she believe that a feeling she kept hidden within layers of stoicness would have a spotlight shining on it.

At first, “Huh?’ was all that came out of her, that single syllable accompanied by red splashes of embarrassment taking the front seat on the suppleness of her face.

What could ever spur Eren to be so vulnerable with her? Was there something pushing him to ask her this? And if so, what?

He knew he loved her, nonetheless he held the belief that she didn’t have to love him. She didn’t have to see him how he wanted to be seen by her eyes, because how selfish could that be? Since his position in the world steered him away from anything normal, and from anything that offered him a peace and tranquility that strayed farther from him with each passing day.

Yet, on that particular night he wondered ‘what if.’

What if she felt the same way for him? What if he was more than family to her? A world filled with what ifs and what nots, what if he dared to walk on the edge of a sword with those words. And so, he asked on that night beneath the star broken sky what it was he was to her.

In the back of his mind he knew that if she chose the answer he dreaded then he’d have nothing to hold on to. He’d have nothing left but to move forward and become what he seemed destined to become. This something terrified him and what terrified him most was how this something settled inside him.

Therefore, now with Mikasa in front of him, and him feeling at his most vulnerable and filled with a desperation that pushed him to say what he believed to be nonsensical, he asked, “Or am I just family?”

He expected another “Huh?” from the poor girl who looked near ready to pass out, but instead a determined face replaced her shocked one and she slowly drawled out a confession.

It wasn’t an, “I love you,” it was a, “Just the two of us,” because an I love you was not needed between two people when those words were echoed with every action they did for one another.

So when she uttered those words, he smiled and took her hand and ran. Her skirt flowed behind her and both their coats flapped against the warm Marleyan breeze as they left everything behind.

Where to? Anywhere.

Not once did they look back as they ran through the refugee camp, and not once did the thought of turning back occur in their minds. Not even as they sat on the boat with their knees pressed to their chest and their clammy hands intertwined, did they think to go back.

The boat took them to a place far away, a place whose name they had yet to learn to pronounce. Still, they walked through the unfamiliar quiet town.

They both took in the scenery and tried their best to not look like outsiders as one pulled the other along. Hand in hand, just like when they were little kids. They unconsciously kept walking towards the mountains because deep down they felt that something was waiting for them there. A new life, a way for them to escape the hell that called their name.

Up in the mountains there was a scene so beautiful, a view that was so new yet somehow familiar and reminded Mikasa of her first home. Eren knew. He knew that this was to be the place where they’d settle and build their home.

The rush and adrenaline that impulsed them to run slowly faded away as their heavy chests heaved and breathed when they were finally able to pause and breathe in the crisp fresh mountain air.

“This will be our home,” Eren panted as Mikasa squeezed his hand and gave him one sharp confident nod. Our home, she thought.

Piece by piece they built their home. Mikasa would watch as Eren’s titan would pull the surrounding trees from their roots and set them haphazardly on the grass. And both would spend their day cutting and sanding the blistering wood into a smooth finish, and soon their cabin home was completed.

The weather had turned cold on the first night in their new home. The howling wind knocked against their window and both were content that the time they slept outside at least gave them good weather.

The moon outside was full and Mikasa and Eren stood inside the cabin awkwardly next to each other, until Mikasa shivered. Eren exhaled and moved to start a fire and Mikasa watched him with endearing eyes as he did. Patiently, she waited and saw how Eren took a match and dropped it in the wooden logs and began to work on the fire.

He stood in front of the chimney fire and turned to her as he said, “Come over here,” and Mikasa went to him.

That night she felt vulnerable, she felt soft, she felt like she could fall asleep staring into his eyes.

She reveled in how Eren’s thumb swept her cheek, wiping the fresh tears that began to fall without her consent. And she closed her eyes as she felt his plush lips against her lips, and when his warm hand intertwined over her hand, did she have a desire for more.

Carefully, she moved her fingers to intermingle on his freshly cut hair and she pulled him closer to her. He tried to hold on to his breath as she moved her lips down his neck, and he felt the ever growing fire at the pit of his stomach impossible to control.

“Mikasa…” he breathed.

She smiled at him and moved to kiss the corner of his lips as her eyes held a yearning, a lust, an invitation for him to do more.

She watched as Eren’s fingers moved to unbutton her blouse one button at a time, and soon each layer of clothing was shed and thrown carelessly around them as their heated bodies yearned to get closer.

As Mikasa laid bare before Eren, he couldn’t help but smile at her shyness. He moved to hover over her, feeling the way her body shivered beneath him and he softly cooed, “Mikasa… you’re beautiful,” before bending down and kissing her.

Eren enjoyed the feeling of her nails digging at his shoulder blades as he slowly entered her and he never stopped looking at her reaction, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t hurting her.

“If I’m hurting you, tell me…,” he said between groans, “So I can stop.”

“I’m fine,” Mikasa sighed against the crackling fire, as her eyebrows contorted trying to get used to Eren’s length.

They could hear the cricket’s music outside the window and they could feel the warmth of the fire against their heated bodies as they moved against one another.

They ceased to be two as their shadows painted against the wall blended into one being as they gained carnal knowledge of each other. Years spent imagining how they’d feel, how they’d become undone and how their moans would sound in between breaths, were laid to rest.

His heavy breathing met her quiet sighs as they continued to take each other in and learn what they liked. Eren took his time moving around, learning and remembering what angle made Mikasa squirm the most, and which speed made her take her lip in between her teeth.

While Mikasa realized that every time she ran her fingernails over Eren’s backside he’d hiss in delight, and when she’d nibble at the skin on his neck he’d groan weakly against her ear.

Lovers on the run, burning their love down as the fire near them burned to nothing but embers. The soft sunrays seeped through the curtains kissing at their naked skin as they rustled to wake up.

Foolish smiles, sleepy lust filled eyes, and soft touches trailing raised skin filled the quiet cabin as Eren mouthed, “Morning,” to Mikasa.

A routine was created: making love late in the night, waking up to lazy sideways smiles, and taking all they wanted from the other with a regret they got accustomed to.

Mornings were filled with them tending to the garden they were growing. They’d share a cup of coffee and talk about the things they still needed for their home, and their afternoons were accompanied by trips to the nearby lake where they’d fish.

Hours became days, days became weeks, weeks became months, and the love they kept underneath secret longing glances became kisses on the cheek and arms around their waist. Behind those mountains the trust they shared in battle became an open declaration of love.

On that mountainside they whispered their I love you’s, on that mountainside they lived a quiet life without the perils of war at their heels and they were very happy.

#eremika #aot canon one shot #snk one shot #aot #snk #eren x mikasa

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 3 years

Text

Construction of the tower was going smoothly. Neither King Dedede, nor the Waddle Dees tried to return to the castle. Instead, they set up tents around the base of the structure so they could stay through the nights. The tower rose in the sun, and rumors quickly spread all throughout Dream Land.

"It seems that King Dedede has started something strange again."

"He said he was building a tower. It's a tower for battle."

"It's so ugly. Let's stay away."

The people didn't approach out of fear of getting involved, but one day, an unexpected guest passed through. Meta Knight. He came alone without his subordinates.

"Mmm? Isn't that Meta Knight?" King Dedede, who was supervising the construction site, looked back and raised his voice. Meta Knight looked up at the tower, only just completed up to the fifth floor.

"Are you alone? What did you come to do?" When King Dedede asked, Meta Knight replied with his eyes still locked onto the tower’s summit.

"I heard a rumor that you were building a tower for battle. I came to see what it looked like."

"Hmph, is that so? Then, take a closer look!" King Dedede proudly turned and gestured. "It's not just a tower. It's a decisive battle tower that decides the strongest warrior!"

" …………… " Meta Knight was silent, however, the sharp eyes behind his mask gradually began to shine. King Dedede continued to talk comfortably.

"One night, a shooting star fell on this land."

"A shooting star?"

"Oh, a mysterious shooting star with incredible power. Thanks to that, huge peaches began to grow in the surrounding area, and the masks that were buried here ... " The King swallowed his words and cleared his throat. "Erk, ahem! Anyway, there was a special power in this place, so I decided to build a battle tower here. There will be lots of tough traps littered throughout that will plague the challengers! Only those who overcome the numerous trials can reach the top floor! What’s at the top? I am, of course! There will be a ferocious battle at the summit!"

"—I have a suggestion," Meta Knight said quietly while looking at King Dedede.

"What is it?"

"Can I also be added to the battle at the summit?"

"Eh?" King Dedede was surprised to hear that from him. "Well ... if you want to fight, don't worry. As a challenger, you'll start from the first floor, then, you'll challenge me on the top floor ... "

"I refuse." Meta Knight quickly swished his cape. "I also want to meet the challenger who makes it to the top."

"What ...? "

"I want to fight the strongest warrior," Meta Knight said flatly. King Dedede replied, dissatisfied.

"This is my tower. The final boss on the top floor will be decided by me!"

"I understood, I want to fight the challenger together—you and I, as two."

"Two people?"

"You must have expected—who will be the strongest challenger arriving at the tower’s summit?"

"Hmm ... " King Dedede frowned. "Kirby."

"Exactly," Meta Knight nodded, "Kirby will absolutely be the one to make it to the top. I want to be the one to fight him seriously."

"I'll be the one!" King Dedede raised his voice. "I want to be the one to fight Kirby! I need to win spectacularly and get even with the lil’ runt!"

"Neither you, nor I, have the intention of giving up the right to fight Kirby. The only solution is to fight him together."

"With two people?" The King shook his head indignantly. "Fighting two-on-one is what a coward does, I don't like it!"

"Who said it was two-on-one? I don't want such a fight."

"Huh ...? "

"The game will be two-on-two. Let Kirby choose a partner."

"Choose a partner ...? "

"Whether it’s Burning Leo or Knuckle Joe, he’ll head to the top with a strong partner."

" ... A serious match between two pairs ... I see, interesting." King Dedede nodded and grinned. "It's a good idea, Meta Knight! Then, it’s a challenge. I'll hit Kirby with a challenge letter. Waddle Dee, bring some paper and a pen!" Hearing King Dedede’s voice, Bandana Waddle Dee rushed in, also carrying bricks. With paper and pen in hand, King Dedede wrote the challenge letter at once.

"Kirby! I Invite you to ‘King Dedede's Strongest, Most Dangerous Tower!’ King Dedede and Meta Knight are waiting for you at the summit! Choose the strongest companion and come at once!"

"No good," Meta Knight said quietly. King Dedede, who was attempting to put the challenge letter into an envelope, quickly froze.

"What's wrong? It's the perfect challenge."

"The name of the tower is the problem. I think it'd be better to have a simpler name that describes the characteristics of the tower."

"Characteristics of the tower ...? What kind of name would be good?"

"That's right, because it's a tower that one fights with a partner ... How about the ‘Buddy Fighters Tower?’"

"Hmm." King Dedede folded his arms. He was a bit annoyed his name wasn't included, but the name Meta Knight suggested was unexpectedly cool. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was much better than "King Dedede's Strongest, Most Dangerous Tower." Therefore, King Dedede said, looking reluctant on purpose, "Well, it's not bad. I’m the owner of the tower, but I'll hear out your suggestion because I’ve got an open mind."

"Much obliged."

"Then ... " The King rewrote the challenge letter and handed it to Bandana Waddle Dee. "Deliver this to Kirby, be sure to get a reply."

"Yes, understood!" Waddle Dee securely re-tightened his bandana and began running, full speed.

Bandana Waddle Dee gradually began to grow tired as he ran through the woods. He never grew tired when he was working on building the tower, even without break.

"Hah ... hah ... I'm sweating ..... my legs ... it hurts ... " Finally, he couldn't run any longer. The leaves rustled as he sat down, and he could hear the peaceful sound of birdsong. After a long time, Bandana Waddle Dee felt calm. "Ahh ... Somehow, I feel sleepy ... "

He thought as he closed his eyes. "How mysterious ... I wasn't tired at all when I was building the tower. Actually, I couldn't stay still because my body was coursing with so much energy ... "

"Ora ora!" and "Get to it!" he had said. He turned red, remembering yelling those words he didn’t usually use.

"I was speaking so aggressively, even though I was in front of King Dedede ... ‘Move, I got it!’ What ... " Bandana Waddle Dee was speechless. "It's strange, somehow. Not only me, but everyone, even King Dedede, was acting more aggressive than usual. Why ...? "

The thing that came to mind was the shooting star—the power of the shooting star that produced an abundance of large peaches on the trees in the forest.

"Was it the influence of the shooting star that made me feel so aggressive? Maybe that shooting star poured too much energy into the surroundings ... "

That may have been the reason King Dedede and Waddle Dee had become unprecedentedly violent and combative. And, the masks excavated from the place where the shooting star fell were worrying. Those masks were strangely eerie, in a way ...

"The shooting star ... those masks ... Somehow, I have a bad feeling ...! " Bandana Waddle Dee stood up. He was tired, but couldn't rest. "I have to call Kirby. Kirby will surely do something about this!" He started running again, breathlessly.

Even though King Dedede built the battle tower, even though rumors had spread throughout Dream Land, Kirby probably still hadn’t heard of it.

Kirby today, like always, had lunch at Chef Kawasaki’s restaurant and was now taking a nap in the shade, in good spirits. Bandana Waddle Dee rushed over to him, happily sleeping and drooling.

"Kirby! Wake up, Kirby!" Kirby cracked open his eyes when Bandana Waddle Dee shook him.

"Ah ... Waddle Dee ... Fried rice seconds ... and after, hamburger and donuts ... "

"If you wake up!"

Kirby rubbed his eyes, yawned wide, and finally looked up at him.

"Hmm? Waddle Dee? Where? My fried rice ...? "

"I’ll make you fried rice another time. Instead, listen to this story!" Bandana Waddle Dee presented the challenge letter from King Dedede.

"A letter? From King Dedede?"

"It's a challenge, look here ... " He told Kirby about the shooting star falling in the forest, the parts scattering when King Dedede touched it. "Mysteriously, lots of huge, sweet peaches began to grow in the area. I'm sure the power of a shooting star ... "

"Ehh!? Peaches!?" Kirby had been listening uninterestedly, but suddenly, his eyes began to shine. "Lots of huge, sweet peaches!? Really!? Really, Waddle Dee!?"

"Uh, yeah. That’s why the Great King put the tower there ... "

"Hooray! So he sent me an invitation! How kind of him!" Kirby jumped at Bandana Waddle Dee.

"I-it’s not like that, Kirby. This isn’t an invitation, it's a challenge ... "

"You're going to have an all-you-can-eat peach party? Let's go fast, fast, Waddle Dee!" Kirby started running, pulling Waddle Dee along with him.

"It’s not like that!" Even when Bandana Waddle Dee screamed, Kirby didn’t hear at all.

"Well, okay ... Kirby is wrong, but he’ll know it’s not a party when he heads to the tower," Bandana Waddle Dee thought as he ran, being dragged along. "I'm sure he will return the Great King back to himself!"

The pair dashed and bounded through the forest at incredible speeds.

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#kirby #king dedede #meta knight #bandana waddle dee #kirby fighters 2 #Kirby: Kirby Fighters the Destined Rivals!!#kirby light novel #translations

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vampiric-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Severance

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 4 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Jasper approaches you one evening and tries to make things right - but between your fear and your lust, you find time to question the motives of him and the rest of his family.

Word Count: 5,057

“(Y/N), please come with me.” Jasper’s voice pulled you out of your shock. You never thought you’d ever see Jasper Hale standing in your bedroom. Sure, you’d thought about it almost every night, but you never thought he’d be standing there under these conditions.

“No.” Your voice sounded firm. You kept your breath steady, refusing to succumb to the hysterics that had preyed on you earlier that day. His molten gold eyes softened. He took a cautious step towards you, but stopped as you met him with a glare.

“You figured it out all on your own,” he spoke his words slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring you away again. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I will answer them for you. But before I do, I need to be sure we’re talking about the same thing. I need you to say the word out loud.”

“You say it.”

He exhaled sharply, “I can’t. I can’t say anything until I know you’ve put it together entirely on your own.”

It was there, lingering in your mouth, impatient to be spoken but afraid to drip from your tongue. “Va-” It wouldn’t come out. Just say it. Vampire. You were in love with a vampire.

“Please, (Y/N).” Was he serious about telling you the truth, or was this all a ploy to see if they could trust you? Did they send him here to kill you? All of this had started from your silly crush on him. Was it his job to dispose of you?

You swallowed hard, and then the word fell out. “Vampire.”

The word hung in the atmosphere, turning the frigid air so brittle it could snap. He glued his eyes to you, but you could only look at the ground as your cheeks burned. How silly it sounded out loud. You may as well have called him a fairy. Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip as your last shred of confidence diminished, stranding you with dread and anticipation for the mocking laughter that never came.

Jasper denied nothing.

“I tried to give you answers at school today, but you wouldn’t follow me.” He took another step towards you; careful and steady, leaving a muddy footprint in his wake.

“Are you going to kill me because I found out?” You looked at him then. He seemed so out of place, surrounded by your mess; and thoughts of dreams you’d had of him coming to your room like this contrasted with the cold reality that threatened to devour you.

“No,” Jasper stopped you in your tracks. “We aren’t like that. We’re different from our kind, we don’t hurt humans.”

“But don’t you… drink blood?” That brought your attention to each pulse of your heart. It made you aware of the warmth rushing through your veins; and how gratifying it might feel for Jasper if he sank his teeth into the soft flesh guarding your neck.

Jasper took another wary step closer to you. “Think of us like vegetarians. We don’t drink blood from humans, but from animals instead-”

“So, you bite neighbourhood pets?” You tried to lighten the mood, hoping to distract him from your growing anxiety with humour. Jasper returned a polite chuckle, seeming to understand.

“Think more like mountain lions and bears.” A sudden flash of delicate little Alice tearing at the throat of a mountain lion made you shudder.

Jasper glanced around. “(Y/N), please know that I understand your discomfort and I don’t want to worsen it, but your house won’t be empty for much longer. It isn’t safe to have this conversation here, and I know you won’t wait until tomorrow. Please come with me, and I swear I will return you safely. The minute you say you want to come back home, I’ll stop everything and make it so.”

You wanted to take the plunge—you were already alone with him, so how different would it be? But the thought of being the single human among a family of vampires—vegetarian or not—begged you to refuse. Though it wasn’t like the last time you had spoken to him; it wasn’t like when Alice or Rosalie or Emmett had approached you. This time, your gut fought its natural survival instincts and told you that the sincerity splashed across Jasper’s refined features rang true.

“I’ll go with you on two conditions.” Jasper held eye-contact; ready to abide by your rules. “One; you keep your promise and bring me home as soon as I ask for it.”

“Of course, (Y/N).” He gave you his word. “And the second condition?”

“I get to leave a note behind saying I went with you in case something happens. Neither you nor your family can touch it, hide it, or edit it. If you meant what you said about not hurting humans, accountability shouldn’t be too harsh a term.”

He followed you into the kitchen where you grabbed an orange sticky-note and began writing a quick message. “There is no reason for us to meddle with it. You’ll be safe.”

“You guys can’t steal it either, like I know you did with my notebook.”

Anyone else would have missed the quick flash of hurt in his eyes, but you caught it right before he masked it. “My family and I aren’t the evil people you think we are. But that notebook is evidence, and therefore a danger to our existence. We can’t have it falling into the wrong hands.”

You frowned, “I wasn’t going to…”

“We know that now, but we can’t risk anybody else finding it.”

“Is… Is that why you guys were so unkind to me? Was I close to figuring it out?” Despite the supernatural discoveries and truth, being treated like that by those so close to the guy you liked had stung you deeply. If you were correct about him having an emotion-influencing ability, it was likely he knew how you were feeling. Jasper didn’t answer.

“We need to go, now,” was all he said. You grabbed your keys as he led you out the front door to where his motorbike was parked on your front lawn. He passed you a black helmet. “I’ll answer more questions when we get there—whatever you want. I’ll stay by your side until sunrise if that’s how you want it.”

You took the helmet from him, grazing his hand on purpose. It was just as cold as last time. You took his hand in yours and held it for a moment. He didn’t pull away yet, and allowed you to press your soft, warm flesh against his icy marble skin. It was hard like stone. You turned his hand so that his palm was facing upwards and traced it with your finger; slowly grazing from his palm to his wrist, noting the absence of veins but the appearance of bite marks, similar to Bella’s; though larger in quantity. He pulled away from you, then.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner you can ask me everything.” He put his own helmet on, likely for the sake of appearances, and sat on the bike. You followed him.

“What, you aren’t going to turn into a bat and fly me there?” you asked as the motorcycle revved.

A genuine chuckle escaped his lips. “No, that’s a myth; and I didn’t want to scare you with our natural method of travel.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist as the bike took off slowly, building speed. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer you; not that you would have been able to hear him as you ripped through the wind, wondering if you were on the road to certain death. As hard as your heart was beating; both from the uncertainty and the physical contact, the smell of Jasper, of fresh citrus and some sort of flowery scent, made you never want to let go. You waited for him to speed up again, to give you an excuse to hold on tighter. The town of Forks faded away, your surroundings growing deeper and denser with forest. Before long, you could see the Cullen house through the trees.

It wasn’t at all what you had expected. You hadn’t thought of gloomy castles with dungeons or anything, but the openness of the architecture surprised you. The house was large and extravagant, easily worth millions. The bright colours stood out against the greens and browns of the surrounding woods; and the rectangular shapes and wide windows introduced a stunning, modern feel.

Jasper parked the motorcycle in the driveway, hanging his helmet on one handlebar. You copied him. “Are you going to tell me everything, now?”

“(Y/N), I’ve admitted to being a vampire and brought you to my home. Don’t you want to poke around?”

“Loitering outside the lion’s den is risky enough; there’s no way I’m walking straight in.” You spotted a log in the distance; blanketed in thick, green moss that was definitely not inside his house. He followed behind and sat beside you.

“What do you want to know?”

You didn’t even know where to start. Combing through what you already knew, you thought it best to elaborate a little. “Why do your eyes change colour?”

“They change based on feeding. When we’re full, they look like mine always do. But when we’re hungry, they darken.”

“So, do you… overeat or something? I’ve never seen your eyes look any different.”

He shifted his weight. “I prefer to be well-fed when in the presence of humans; particularly in high-density areas like high schools.”

Stupid question. “O-Of course. You guys wouldn’t want any accidents… Have there been any accidents? Have you ever killed someone?” When you asked him this, it was because you were embarrassed about asking such an obvious question. You tried to cover it up by rambling. So, when Jasper’s gaze lowered to the forest floor and his lips sealed shut, the shock of it made you jolt. He had.

“You’re getting scared. I can feel it. (Y/N) I promise that was a long time ago and as difficult as this diet is for me, I’m getting better and better every day.”

The next question shot out of your mouth like a bullet. “Exactly how safe am I with you right now? You’re getting better? Is it hard for you to be near me right now?”

“You’re very safe. The others are inside and will stop me if anything happens.” The way he spoke about the prospect of murdering you was so uncomfortably casual, like it happened all the time. It was as if a thousand disapproving eyes were glaring down at you, wondering what the hell you were thinking by coming here.

“When was the last time you killed—no—when was the last time you tried to kill somebody? Successful or not?” Bella’s bitten wrist was at the forefront of your mind as you waited for an explanation. “Did you give Bella that bite?”

“No, that was from another vampire. He’s dead now; but he drank human blood and went after Bella.” Jasper paused, studying you with his citrine stare. “This isn’t helping. You’re still afraid.”

“Am I already in danger because I know?”

Jasper slid closer, bridging the gap between you. “Not so long as no one else finds out.”

“I’ve told you I won’t tell anyone.” It hurt that he didn’t seem to trust you; like this entire thing was an excuse for the Cullens to follow up on your character. You stuffed your hands in your pockets and looked at the dirt beneath you; wondering if that was how the Cullens thought of you. Dirt. For liking Jasper, they probably hated you; Edward certainly seemed to feel that way. Perhaps their apologies only came once their rudeness drew too much of your attention? Little did they know.

“Other vampires,” Jasper’s clarification interrupted your spiralling mind. “So long as no vampires find out.”

“What about Bella? Is she-”

His next words slashed your heart like a knife. “Bella’s situation with Edward is different to yours and mine.”

The reminder knocked the wind out of you. It was the truth; the vampire you had fallen in love with wasn’t available, and you solving the mystery of his true nature would not change that. It would not impress him so much that he’d slide into bed with you and abandon the girl who—for all you knew—he had been with for hundreds of years. An unkind part of you wanted to kiss Jasper there and then; just to get something out of this mess. Or was it to prove to him you could be like Edward and Bella? A powerful urge to further insert yourself fought to take over. It couldn’t be that difficult. He wasn’t too far to miss. You fought back against the desire.

“Can we go inside? I-If that’s still okay… I’m cold.” You disregarded your fear about entering a vampire’s lair. Now, you wanted to see where he lived, and sat, and watched TV.

Your hands were still stuffed in your pockets, freezing. You wondered if they would be the same temperature as his now. You got your answer as he held your hands in his, gently helping you stand; ever the gentleman. Every instance of chivalry you had watched him perform for Alice ran through your brain like a movie. It was a habit of his time. His hard marble skin contrasted with your own soft flesh as you fought the urge to entwine your fingers with his; to bring your lips to his, to make him press you against a tree.

Instead, he pulled you up and then let go of you without a second thought. Shame weighed down your shoulders. He winced, not looking at you now. Your voice trembled. “Can you sense emotions?”

“Yes.”

Did that include lust?

You changed the subject, not daring to ask for elaboration. “When we go in… is everyone—are their eyes going to be gold?”

He seemed to relax as you said that; chuckling softly, like music to your ears. “Nobody is thirsty, so yes. You’ll be fine in there. They want to see you for themselves again, though. And there are some things Alice would like to clarify.”

Alice. Would she pull you aside and intimidate you? Stay away from my boyfriend or I’ll literally kill you?

You swallowed thickly, following Jasper up to the front door of the house. Inside, his home was light and inviting. The walls were painted white, and there was a lot of open space. Various paintings decorated the walls, including an enormous picture frame filled with a rainbow of graduation caps. Your lips curled as you got the joke.

“Where is everyone?” Knowing they were aware of your presence was startling, in a way. Could they smell you the whole time you were outside? Had they heard what you were saying? An overwhelming sense of dread consumed you as you realised who else would be waiting. Did Edward hear you contemplating kissing Jasper? You hadn’t seen Edward at all since the incident at school. He hadn’t approached you like the others had, and the mere thought of seeing him again after all his mind-reading made your knees quiver.

Jasper didn’t reply and continued to walk. You followed behind him, sticking closer than he probably would have liked.

Alice was the first to reveal herself, meeting you at the top of the white staircase. Her usual beaming smile was absent from her face as she looked between you both. “(Y/N), thank you for coming.” Bile rose in your throat; you wanted to throw up. Edward had likely told her about what you were thinking outside. You couldn’t speak and only nodded your head in response. You risked a glance at Jasper, who was staring intensely at his girlfriend; but Alice’s attention was fixed on you. She took a small step closer to you. Her usual voice, as graceful as wind chimes, sounded cracked. “Can I borrow you first?”

Jasper’s eyes were downcast while Alice’s held an edge of urgency. “O-Okay… Um-”

“I won’t be long, Jaz.” She cut through your mumbling, still not looking at Jasper. He nodded, jaw clenched, and walked past her, deeper into the house. Alice seemed to relax after he left and took your hands in her cold ones. “How are you feeling about everything?”

That was the last thing you had expected to hear from her just then. “I’m fine… considering.”

Her smile returned, adding sugar to her sweet, honeyed eyes. “I want to take it upon myself to explain what really happened. I’m sorry I lied to you at the café—but we have an important secret to protect and I just couldn’t-”

“I get it, it’s fine. But now I’m wondering, did I actually deserve it?”

“(Y/N), come with me.” She twirled around and fluttered down a hallway to your right. She led you to a room covered in everything Alice. Walking through the door was like having her entire personality punch you in the face at once. Like the rest of the house, the walls were painted white, and the ceilings were to the heavens. All-white modern furniture decorated the space; accompanied by some mannequins modelling some of Alice’s nicer luxury pieces by the vanity. White, floating bookshelves hovered on the back wall beside modern artworks and posters of fashion designs. Enlarged photos of Alice and Jasper in black-and-white decorated the walls on the opposite side. A pile of designer clothing was heaped onto the enormous, white bed on the left side of the room.

“Couldn’t decide what to wear?” You cracked a joke as you took everything in. Alice returned a smile.

“At least someone around here understands.”

Looking at the intricately designed headboard, the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “You don’t sleep in coffins?” You looked at her wide-eyed. Just because Jasper was okay with the stereotypes, it didn’t mean Alice would be.

“Oh, no. That’s a myth. We don’t sleep.”

“At all?” You looked between her and the gigantic bed, and then realisation clicked. A pang of jealousy twisted your insides as you understood exactly how the bed was used. You recalled Jasper’s old words. So, Alice and I will have the entire house to ourselves again, which is always a pleasurable time.

As if sensing where your mind was going, she changed the subject. “There are some things that I need to explain—with the truth, this time—I promise. Please, take a seat wherever you like.”

After seeing the bed and knowing what its sole purpose was, you couldn’t stop yourself from spitefully sitting right on it .. “Did I freak you guys out back then or something?”

“(Y/N), we know you’re already aware of what Edward and Jasper can do. My gift is seeing the future. It’s a little flimsier than what you’re imagining. I can see the decisions people make and then what the outcomes of those decisions will be. And I’ve been having quite a few visions about you.” You watched her, mouth hanging open, waiting for her to continue because you didn’t know how to respond to that. What had she seen? What decisions had you made without realising? Alice continued, “I saw you finding out we were vampires early on. During your fascination with Jasper, you noticed the same things you ended up noticing, anyway. In the vision, you reacted differently. You let your fear rule you, and you came close to exposing our secret.”

“Did you kill me?” You asked. “In the vision?”

“No, but the decisions themselves were fragile. I had three unique visions about you in one day, all in which you found out about us. And in only one of them, you kept our secret. At first I didn’t realise how you were figuring everything out, but Edward heard your thoughts about Jasper and we put it together. We tried to wean you off of him; so Jasper talked to you more - but only about me and how happy we were. The plan was to make you stop liking him so you’d stop noticing things—but it backfired. Jasper used his gift on you when you were too close to figuring it out. Edward suggested a colder approach, which was too hard for Jasper as he could feel everything you were feeling.

“Then, I met you at the café and tried to smooth over the situation. We approached it differently again. So, we treated you kindly and acted like the entire thing was just Edward running on a tangent—but my visions about the outcome were murky. They kept changing. Sometimes you’d figure it out and react badly, other times you’d let it go and move on from us, and only once did you find out and accept us. I think we’re living in that vision now.”

It was a lot to take in, and you had so many questions; but the one that came out was, “I can’t imagine trying to tell anyone about any of this.”

“The whole Edward-as-the-scapegoat story wasn’t a complete lie. When he read your mind, he saw that you would often fantasise about-” she paused, almost as if she was about to choke. “About separating Jasper and myself. Jasper had no intentions of letting that happen—but Edward wondered if your disposition might change after you found out about everything. If you were capable of blackmail, or-”

“I’m not. So you can all chill out, if that’s what I’m really here for.” Your anger at Edward was justified, then. “For all of you to check if I’m safe.”

“My intention tonight wasn’t to upset you-”

“Jasper!” You called out. Behind you, one door to the adjoining rooms opened and Jasper emerged. “I want to go home now.”

“Of course.” You didn’t miss the look he gave Alice; it was one of frustration. And as before by the stairwell, Alice didn’t look back at him.

“Goodbye, (Y/N),” Alice’s angelic voice rang from behind you as you left the room. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

It didn’t take long for you to get back outside. The wind had picked up, and the air smacking against your face made it harder to hold back your tears. Jasper’s voice came as a comfort. “Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You didn’t reply and only shook your head as a stream of tears spilled down your cheeks. The embarrassment of it all. These people truly thought the worst of you. Edward was still assuming your entire personality and relaying the most negative parts of it to the rest of his family; and Alice insinuated that you were a traitor. Meanwhile, all of this was happening in front of Jasper. You were now crying in front of him, and he wouldn’t even comfort you.

“What were you doing in the neighbouring room?” You wiped your tears on your sleeves.

“We have a closet and an office adjoined to our room, and I wanted to be nearby to keep my promise about taking you home.”

You were glad you were facing away from him, because you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut and silently sobbing. Our room. They shared it; of course. You had been mistaken in thinking it only belonged to Alice. All the humiliation on top of the physical reminders that Jasper was spoken for was too much at once. You regretted ever going inside. Now you definitely wanted to throw up. The vampire thing should have scared you away from him. It should have made you run for the hills; and while you were still afraid from time to time, it somehow made you love him even more.

Jasper had moved closer to you while you cried, and you could feel his cold hand chilling your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt. “Are you ready to leave?”

You still had so many questions—the tension between Alice and Jasper being at the forefront of your mind. Had you caused it? But you couldn’t ask, not with your feelings already so out in the open. You had embarrassed yourself enough up to this point. So instead, you nodded and turned to face Jasper; no longer caring if he saw you cry. Your voice sounded raspy as you said, “I want you to use your gift to make me stop feeling sad. Will you?”

“You’re sure?” But he didn’t hesitate; and already the melancholy made way for contentment. You wiped the rest of the tears from your face.

“Thank you.” You wanted to ask him to do something else, but couldn’t will yourself to ask the question. He handed the motorcycle helmet to you for the second time that night, and you paused. “What’s your natural method of travel? The one you mentioned earlier?”

“We can run really fast. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, and faster than you could imagine. I’d be happy to run you home, but not if it will scare you.”

“It won’t.”

He gestured for you to climb onto his back, and you did; resisting the urge to bury your face in his neck. His muscular arms held you close as he reminded you softly, “Hold on as tightly as you can.”

Without another moment’s notice, he launched you through the forest at an impossible speed. The tall trees surrounding you morphed into an indistinguishable wall of brown and green, and the ground behind you moved so quickly it made your eyes blur. Before you could even think to breathe, Jasper had stopped outside your front door and the world around you was visible again. The world was spinning, and Jasper picked you up bridal-style and carried you through the front door to your bedroom; carefully laying you down on your bed and sitting beside you on the mattress. “You’ve had a big night, you should get some sleep.”

“Wait,” you called out before he could disappear. “What happens now?”

You wanted him to say he would call you tomorrow, or meet you somewhere. You wanted to be told that this would continue—but the serious look on Jasper’s face warned that you wouldn’t be hearing any of that. Conflicting looks crossed over his features as he looked like he was debating something within himself. “You should talk to Alice again when you can. There’s a lot more to her vision than what she explained to you. It’s important that you seek her when you’re ready to listen. It’s about you, and you deserve to know what she believes will be coming.” He added dryly, “You’ll like what she saw for you.”

“And what about you, though?”

“Because of… foreseen circumstances, Alice has asked for some distance in our relationship for now. I can feel her emotions. I know what she’s trying to do—and you’ll find out when you talk to her—but I can’t let her. Please understand this. Regardless of whatever Alice says to you, I need you to keep a distance from me.”

“But-”

“There is nothing you can say to change my mind, I meant what I said. I love Alice with my entire heart. We have been married since 1950. Now you know everything, there’s no reason for you and I to continue talking about it. Please talk to Alice; but listen to me. I will not leave my wife for you.”

That was the final blow; all you needed to push you into an unfamiliar territory; one where you wanted to sever the one-sided bond. You thought back at the question you didn’t ask him earlier and realised you might die if you didn’t. “I want you to use your gift again to help me achieve that. Every time I feel attracted to you, every time I love you or I want you… You have to quell it. I realise I’m in way over my head. I realise I am embarrassing myself by continuing to love you.” Jasper winced as you said the last sentence, but watched you intently as you continued. “I can’t stay away from you if I can’t get over you. I need help. Will you please put me out of my misery and control my feelings for me?”

“I can only do it while I’m in range. It’ll wear off-”

“It might at least condition me to stop thinking about you. I don’t know. Can we at least try it?”

His beautiful eyes locked with yours, and your heart felt lighter. As you watched the vampire in front of you, he looked less godlike, less devastating. Still conventionally attractive, you felt the adoration slip away as you studied his face, his hair, his body… Everything melted away and was replaced by neutrality. For the first time in a while, you stared at Jasper Hale and you didn’t want to kiss him, or hold him, or profess your love with him.

If anything, you wanted him out of your room.

And so, with one last look at you to make sure it worked, Jasper turned away from you and walked out the door.

For the first time in a long time, you could breathe again.

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel @jelly-fishy-babie @kawaiikpoplover268 @awkwardnesshabitat @salsameter @dillybuggg @awesomebooklover17 @badgirlsdeaddreams @raindancer2004 @camillapad @champagnejoker @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @starrybumbles @bubblegumcat229 @boywivlove @mauvette268 @pleasantlycrazyworld

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Faerieland (Fan Fic) - Chapter 7 - The Trap

This is Chapter 7 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story.

AO3 Link here.

*****

Dru wandered between the trees, until she saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away with its back to her. She knew him well enough to recognize his profile despite the dimness.

“Jaime,” she whispered, as relief washed over her. She didn’t want to cry out his name and draw attention to them. The faerie knight had been right about one thing. There were probably far more dangerous creatures than both of them combined in these woods.

Jaime must not have heard her because he started walking in the opposite direction, leaving Dru to hurry after him, as soundlessly as she could.

She grabbed his arm just as he was about to step into a clearing. She could see a cluster of faerie knights ahead. They stood in the middle of the field, all of them wearing similar black armour, and seemed to be having an animated conversation.

“Jaime… Where do you think you are going?”

“It’s fine,” he answered with a smile. “I know them. They’re allies.”

“Jaime…” She brushed the hilt of the dagger tucked underneath her dress and followed him cautiously. She wanted to trust him but something felt off.

They stopped three feet away from the fey knights and the crowd parted to reveal an Unseelie prince - the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt - with long silvery blond hair and a deep scowl on his narrow face. His blue eyes lit up as soon as he caught sight of Dru.

“Oh, this is more like it. Much more useful than the Rosales captive. We bear no ill against his family, quite the opposite. But this one… this one is perfect. You delight me, leanansidhe.”

Dru tried to step back, but realized she was pinned to the ground by an invisible force. The prince laughed.

Two guards appeared then, from behind the prince. They were half-escorting half-dragging a lanky figure.

Jaime.

Then who? She turned her head to where Jaime’s doppelganger stood and saw him smiling at her, baring his teeth. He did look exactly like Jaime, but his expression was very unlike him.

The guards brought the real Jaime to stand next to Dru and he shot her an apologetic look.

*****

The guards patted Dru down in a search for weapons and threw their findings carelessly in a pile a few feet away. They took their time, their fingers lingering on Dru’s body, and Jaime felt the urge to punch them. He realized as he tried to move that he was frozen in place by fey magic. The knights resumed their search quickly when one of them got his hand bitten by Dru. Jaime was satisfied to see that she had not held back. Blood was oozing out of the deep wound on the fey’s hand.

When they were done, the faerie prince took a few steps to stand in front of Dru and looked down at her. She was two heads shorter than him, but she held her head high in defiance.

Jaime felt sick to his stomach. He had been played like a fool, and now he had brought his precious Dru into this.

“A daughter of thorns and a son of roses. If this isn’t a match made in heaven…”

Behind the prince, most of the knights snickered.

“Your brother has been spying on us, before he vanished... yet again. Tell us what he knows and we will let both of you go freely. Remember, faeries can’t lie.”

“Which brother are you talking about? Because I have several, and each one of them could easily, single handedly, kick your ass,” Dru replied as calmly as if they were having a casual conversation.

“The one who has upset the balance between the living and the dead.”

Jaime had no idea what he was talking about but judging by the look on Dru’s face, she did. The faerie prince seemed to have sensed her reaction as well. His face split into a vicious grin.

“Tell us. What does he know?”

Dru sighed. “What doesn’t he know? My brother is a genius. So you really need to be more specific.”

“I am talking about my plans. What does he know of them?”

Dru shrugged. “My brother doesn’t confide in me. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then, you will tell us where we can find him. Now.”

“A hobgoblin, a nixie and a pixie walk into a bar…”

“What is the meaning of this?” He interrupted her, his eyes blazing.

“Oh, I am sorry. I thought we were playing a game, of who could tell the most stupid jokes.”

He slapped her. Hard. Jaime flinched and tried to free from his magical restraints but found that he was powerless against them. Dru spat blood, and grinned as if it was no big deal.

“If you are not willing to cooperate, then you are of no use to me… and you shall pay for your blood’s crime. The sentence for spying is death.”

“NOOO!” Jaime cried. “It’s against the Accords. If you do this, the Clave will never stop hunting you.”

The faerie prince laughed. “Do you think I am afraid of you, little Shadowhunters? Soon, we will all be powerless against a much bigger threat and those of us who made the right alliances will be protected while your precious angel blood will be running like crimson rivers in the streets.”

He turned and jerked his head toward one of his knights, a giant wearing a lion-shaped mask wrought in gold. “Kill her!” The prince ordered. The executioner took a step toward Dru.

“WAIT!” Jaime cried at the same time Dru exclaimed “I demand a trial by combat!”

The Unseelie prince whirled and lifted a hand to halt his knight. Jaime heaved a sigh of relief.

“You know this only works if you are one of the Fair Folk.” The prince said, observing Dru with amusement.

“I am sixteen. I am a child and therefore one of the faerie kind.”

“You are only sixteen?” the prince replied, his eyes actually widening in surprise. “I could have sworn you were older than this.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“I was there, you know. When your older brother used the same trick on my father three years ago. He was a fool to fall for it. I don’t know what went through his head when he picked Emma Carstairs to fight against his champion. It was pure madness.”

There was a murmur of assent behind him, several knights shaking their heads. The words “Fal the Rider” and “First Nephilim” were uttered in a low deferential voice. Interesting. It looked like the Fair Folk regarded Emma with fear and respect.

“I will give you a choice. Either you kneel and swear loyalty to me, or I will have your head cut off and sent to Mark the Hunter. We will see what the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance thinks of that.”

Dru didn’t even flinch. She straightened her back and looked straight into the prince’s eyes, although he was towering over her.

The prince waved to his knight who moved forward, carrying a sword that was probably as long as Dru was tall.

“NOOO! WAIT!” Jaime cried, struggling against his magical bindings. “I want to make an exchange! Please let her go! She’s only a kid. Kill me! Kill me, instead! The Rosales and Blackthorns may not share blood but there is a deep bond between them.”

The prince snickered. “A deep bond, you say? What a poetic way to call what my brother’s Nephilim lovers do when the three of them hole up together.”

“This is not what I meant!”

The prince didn’t even acknowledge him. He was staring back in Dru’s eyes.

“Final words?”

“I can think of a few.” She smirked. She actually smirked.

Jaime was frozen in shock. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening. Because this could not be happening. He knew Dru was giving the prince her choice of words but he could only see her lips moving. He couldn’t hear through the blood pounding in his ears, all his senses numb with horror and fear.

She must somehow have provoked the prince, because he retreated with an affronted look. He signaled the knight, who lifted his sword high, ready to proceed with the execution.

He only needed to bring it down… but he never got too. The executioner froze, mouth parted in shock, an arrow protruding from his neck. Jaime hadn’t even seen it fly to its destination, straight into a very small space between the knight’s helmet and his chestplate that wasn’t covered in armour. The giant fey fell down on his knees, like a broken puppet.

“STOP”, a deep voice echoed in the stunned silence.

All heads turned to a tall and lean figure standing a few feet away, at the edge of the forest.

Jaime had always thought there was an eerie - almost ominous - look about him. Right now, he looked downright terrifying.

His gray eyes shone like the blade of a knife, a perfect match to his look of pure fury. He was wearing a dark cloak, hood down to reveal his crow black hair and pale white face, standing out like a glowing moon against the murky woods. Citrus red headphones were resting around his neck, and he was holding a crossbow carelessly at his side, as if it had not shot an arrow seconds before. A flying creature - that bore resemblance to a large eagle - was perched on his left shoulder, like the symbol of a dark omen.

Tiberius Blackthorn looked like Death itself.

Yet, Jaime had never been more relieved to see him.

*****

Tagging @gabtapia <3

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare fan fiction #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #jaime rosales #drusilla blackthorn #dru blackthorn #ash morgenstern #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #kitty tda #kit and ty #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #ty and kit #tsc fanfiction #tda fanfiction #the shadowhunters chronicles icons #the shadowhunter chronicles

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dwellordream · 3 years

Note

For prompts, I don't know if this is something you would be interested in, but I would love to see something 'Station Eleven'-related from you! Either Kirsten/Sayid, kisses as a promise, or Kirsten & August, leaning into the other's side. If you're not up for 'Station Eleven' maybe Sirius/Petunia, feeling for the other in the dark? Absolutely no pressure! I hope you're having fun with your prompts so far!! :)

It shouldn’t surprise her that Sayid would turn to Shakespeare for flirting advice.

On the other hand, they have to rehearse at some point, and picking their way along an old railroad track, now overgrown with weeds as high as their waist and the odd sapling, is as likely a place as any.

The rest of the Symphony is camped nearby; Kirsten can hear the faint strains of music and conversation and the smell of woodsmoke from here. It’s comforting. Birds chirp in the trees, and the wind stirs the humidity of the woods a little.

Sayid brushes up against her, shoulder to shoulder. “Lady,” he says, “you know no rules of charity. Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.”

Kirsten takes a moment to think, then stalks ahead, enjoying the breeze on her legs under her cotton dress, little more than a slip. “Villain,” she snaps over her shoulder, “thou knowest no law of God nor man; no beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.”

He grins lazily at beast; his smirks are very fitting for the role, which is why he was cast, though there was some grumbling about him once again snagging the lead.

“But I know none,” he says sardonically, “and therefore am no beast.”

Kirsten scoffs. “Oh, wonderful, when devils tell the truth!”

But she slows her pace so he can lengthen his stride and meet her, scarcely a foot apart.

He touches her shoulder; when she stays in character and doesn’t jerk away or laugh it off, he brushes a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

His own are dark and pensive; she knows no other actor who can slip away so thoroughly into a role.

“More wonderful when angels are so angry,” he says quietly, and with just the right hoarse inflection. “Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, of these supposed evils to give me leave, but circumstances, to acquit myself.”

She leans away but doesn’t quite widen the gap between them, though she sneers, “Vouchsafe, diffused infection of a man, for these known evils but to give me leave, by circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.”

“Fairer than God can name thee- damn it!” He breaks off, grinning and shaking his head. “No. Fairer than tongue can name thee-,”

She’s grinning to. “I’m impressed. You took much longer before falling flat on your face, this time.”

It’s his turn to scoff, but he loops his finger into the belt of her dress, the one holding her knives, and pulls her closer again. “You promise you’re impressed, Kiki?”

She makes a face and kisses him. “Don’t call me that. Promise.”

#station eleven #ask #conniecorleone #ask game #prompt fill #anyways you all need to read this book if you like post apoc slowburn

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prettywarriors · 4 years

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Fate The Winx Commentary

Good morning internet! Today is the drop of Winx: Riverdale edition! I sure hope you're ready for my aggressive and unnecessary commentary, because it is coming for you either way!

The netflix landing page lets us know:

Fate The Winx Saga

6 episodes, 48-53 minutes each

"Genres: Fantasy TV Shows, Teen TV Shows, Italian TV Shows"

"This show is: Emotional"

As mentioned elsewhere, my Winx knowledge is limited, so I will be coming into this fairly fresh and will try to be unbiased. As I have seen trailers, the keyword here is Try.

Episode 1

'To the Waters and the Wild'

CW: Animal Death, Swears, Implied Child Death, Blood, Implied Teen Sex, Burns, Weed, Fatphobia, Whatever the term pussie falls under

Episode 1 TL;DR: We meet everyone, learn their dynamics, have the basics of the magic system beat into us, meet our monsters, and name drop Harry Potter. Standard first episode stuff.

I do want it on record before we start that I got about halfway into the first season of Riverdale, and the first season of Netflix Sabrina. They were, well, bland and boring imo? I did get through a few seasons of Teen Wolf, but that's because it was capable of Fun and Jokes. My current expectations are a few unintentionally funny lines, maybe some almost decent magic effects, and because it's 2021, one whole gay character (I did hear one of the boys (there are boys?) is bi, but also an asshole so I'm hoping for some wlw)

TV-MA LANGUAGE AND SMOKING OH FUCKING BOY Almost full moon (waxing) in opening shot- I Will be tracking moon inconsistencies if it keeps showing up that is a pet peeve but hey look a bunch of sheep That's a good start (it's ominous though. don't hurt the sheep) Swears count: Feckin' 2 Mystical portal barrier. Oh yeah s5 of the magicians is on netflix now WELP THOSE ARE SHEEP GUTS RIGHT OUT THE GATE HUH For CW it's up a tree, and the dripping blood is a good warning of what's about to be seen :( oh and then the man who was looking for the sheep dies offscreen save for a spray of blood. THIS ISN'T YOUR CHILD'S WINX CLUB it seems to say. I assume. How much blood was in the original winx because this is already at least a full cup. (Also the monster noises for whatever was chasing the man (werewolf it was a werewolf trailers are bad guys) were not very good)

Opening credit scene is 5-6 different blooming elemental wings. They're pretty, but it's unclear if the last one is secret 6th member wings (because the second to last ones are fire which is the main character's element right?) so maybe we'll get a late 6th addition? (I am in I.T. please give me the most relatable character you cowards)

KIDS IN THE CORNER BY AMBER VAN DAY PLAYING I like where they shot this but that might just be european woods pretty. The opening location was nice and mossy save for the sheep blood Fancy big stone school establishing shots (it's nice, and huge) and we land on a red head who seems less than pleased to be here Courtyard shot of... whatever the name of the replacment plant girl is, holding a tray of various potted plants for an older man (father? first day of school send off maybe?) Aisha(?) walks by, not talking to anyone, Stella(?) is taking Magical!Selfies with at least 3 other girls, Musa(?) has a suitcase and headphones and smiles at a passing girl Oh boy a boy with a pocketknife doing little tricks with it! Nothing says edgy like an actual knife edge. Gonna take this moment to point out I have some level of face blindness and while the girls all look fairly different from one another, if there is more than one tall blonde white boy as I fear there may be, I WILL NOT be able to tell them apart. Not through maliciousness, just general incompetence, so anything I say about the boy characters (I want to say they're the knights to the girl's faeries? is that right? this whole thing smacks of gender) should be taken with a heap of salt I've come to accept tv just. displaying text messages on screen as a storytelling method. It's never my favorite but it just Is a modern story element. Also Bloom needs to meet stella at the alfea gates Alfea I presume is the school- does the name mean something? It sure feels like the word elf and therefore fae but I don't feel like googling anything this early in Oh look two more blondish tall white boys. Pocketknife was wearing something else i think, one guy has a brown jacket and pink shirt (bad combo), the other looks old even by tv highschool/college standards and his jacket has a jock vibe. Jock jacket also has an earring? Is this the bi character who is an asshole? From this one second of him, only in profile, I will assume yes, he is an asshole I like Bloom's backpack Pink shirt looks at Bloom from across the quad. I am already tired of this romance Cool he walks up to someone he has identified as lost, and is 'impressed with [her] confidence in the face of complete ignorance' COMING OUT OF THE GATE WITH A NEGG HUH PINKY He even states he wasn't offering help Then Why Are You Talking To Her Jackass Subs are going with the fairy spelling, and Bloom confirms she is a fairy and we confirm this is College. Unless this is a european thing where they call schools different things. I think that's just for public and private? And maybe just england? I'm American all they teach us is 1492-ww1 over and over for like. 10 years sorry Rest of the World 'What Realm are you from?' 'California' Speaking of ameri-centric, I'm gonna Guess that original Winx, the italian cartoon, didn't have their main character be from cali usa? I am presuming this is a side effect of making this property for a more global distribution than I'm guessing winx was originally conceived as back in the early 00s The Otherworld. I assume this is the fairy realm and whatnot? And the magic school. Seems to be located behind a magical barrier in the earth realm?? If that's right it seems weird if basically everyone who goes to the school is from the otherworld Pinky doubles down on his rudeness but in a Fun and Cute way because :/ and the Specialist hall is Very Pretty, oh and there's a fairy hall. Are specialists the boy...things? magi knights? bros of the blade? guys who wear those 'here come a special boy' sneakers from that one comic? Stella sees this conversation which is great because they drop the term mansplain. why would otherworlders know that term even??? Edgey(?) sees Pinky and they hug it out Stella knows Americans are the type to wander off so I guess there's a lot of inter-world connections?

Miss Dowling- is this teacher going to be like the pedo in riverdale who got *checks notes* killed off by one of multiple serial killers later on? Dowling is the headmistress, gotta keep the otherworld a secret from earthers, time and place for portal making. all standard fantasy stuff so far, nothing to make this stand out Stella has a gateway ring, and frankly isn't too nice? all the backgrounders clothing is Bland and very normal 7 realms of the otherworld, Solaria is where Alfea is, i like magic globe Incase you forgot this was a modern tale, people update their insta stories here. 'I was kindof bummed I didn't see a single pair of wings' YOU AND ME BOTH BLOOM 'We had wings in the past, transformation was lost, tinkerbell was an air fairy' This is either a cop out for your glittery cowardice, or a set up for the main girls re-finding transformation magic later. I did like the Tink bit Bloom is a fire fairy and the subtext of this conversation is that bloom's magic did Something bad. I hope it was burn down her old school's gym a la buffy movie I like miss Dowling but in the I wouldn't Be Surprised if you turned out to be Evil way, and I guess Alfea is a very privileged upper crust school. What types of college do normal fairies go to then huh? damn privileged fairies 'our students have gone on to do amazing things like re-discover long lost magics' We Get It. You will give me Wings, but Only If I'm Patient Dowling throws a jab at Bloom about power control, but I like her necklace so It's Fine

Bloom video calls her parents while unpacking in the dorm, which may have come pre-fit with a heck ton of board games? Love it. Or new plant girl brought them along with her many plants Stella has a fancy mirror and lots of jewelry and fashion photos and makeup, Musa has a laptop and apparently not much else, gotta get those establishing personalities down I guess 'Ladies of the Flies honey don't be sexist' Bloom's dad for feminist of the year (these jokes are bad but i guess we can call it a dad joke as justification) Asiha gives Bloom a look and saves her from the call with her parents- yay friendship step one achieved Blooms parents think she's in the alps because magic secrets and what not Aisha asks bloom if she's never read harry potter and I guess Bloom is a potterhead (that's the term right?). Is this self awareness that all magical school fantasy series have the same basic bricks? Bloom is a ravenclaw sometimes slytherin, Aisha is a Gryffindor Stella is changing because she's the fashion one and has a fun pastel rainbow skirt, and uses magic to make a real aggressive lamp. She's also a mentor (maybe older than the others by a bit?) I am assuming Stella here is something along the lines of a diplomats daughter the way she talks about appearances. She better get down and dirty later on to show her growth about how some things are more important than looks yada yada Fairy magic powered by strong emotions, i am waiting for bloom's backstory to be movie x-men rogue style tragedy Terra! Which. Of course is the Plant Fairy's name. Stella is a little mean to her about the plants and she takes it with a smile and some subtle snark back using classic literature Oh that's fun Terra points out the name-plant thing, and name drops her cousin Flora. That's. The one they replaced with Terra right? Terra's dad works in the greenhouse at the school which explains earlier (and her mum is named rose) Stella is indeed a second year and Musa's eyes change for. Lie detecting magic? and loves her headphones (Overstimulation?) Aisha wants somewhere to swim and we cut to a 'pond' by specialist training. Assuming she wants to sim because she's a water fairy, why Don't they have a pool? also this pond looks. Unpleasant for swimming

Girl specialist! Does that mean we have boy fairies? Boys. Fighting. Talking about girls. All gingers are nuts. Thanks edgelord AMAZING SHAGS THOUGH 'I didn't realize your hand was a red-head' it's not truly edge if we don't talk about sex every 10 minutes Subtitles earlier only said boy 1 boy 2 but now pinky or edgy is Riv Edgy smokes weed, and pinky is a big brother figure to him, and the head? of the special boys doesn't like edgy. Me neither older guy Bit of swordplay, more girls, every specialist has black training outfits, very military Pinky is Sky who is son of Guy of Place. an important lad. without context this is meaningless to me There's a giggly boy who laughs at the idea of a war in the future and gets a talking to. I suspect this boy will be re-occurring enough to die- he has those tertiary character elements with his intro and such (and he's black so I am prepared for your standard racist murder choices) Burned Ones exist outside the barrier, which makes me wonder if dead shepard was in the otherworld? There was nothing establishing that he was in any type of Other place but :/ Oh look edgey is having a smoke cross the barrier while we learn about the creatures that live beyond it. Time to find out these creatures no one young has ever seen are still kicking Specialist leader had to kill his own pa after a burned one got him. They also. Used a shotgun when trying to fight it. Do specialists even have powers or are they just good with weapons? Edgey finds the shepards corpse. Mostly blood 'it's been 16 years since the last sighting' 'Rosalind killed all the burned ones' ahh magical creature genocide hey when is abarat 4 coming out. and is rosalind hot?

School, gossip, Aisha and Musa are snarking at Tera for thinking the guy died of natural causes because we need to have these characters not actually like each other to make it stand out when they do Aisha talks about how she eats a lot and if she didn't swim she'd be massive and we cut to the plus sized tera looking uncomfortable are we really doing this? Tera points out that Musa was ignoring her earlier and it's all just uncomfortable and not great character conflict (but I thought I saw Musa holding an honest to god ipod? it's blue but it could be a phone case. Her hand is in the way) tera and dad interaction is nice, i'm also convinced they couldn't afford more than 3 magic adults

Girl with braids and metal in her hair! There were witches in winx right? Like 3 minor antagonist girls? I assume this is one of them. Because she has alternative fashion and is therefore evil /s Beatrix. Names in this series leave something to be desired (that something is subtly. I get it, they're carry overs from a series for a younger audience, she-ra had the same issue, but i can still poke fun) Swear count: Arsehole 2 Bollocks 1 Shit 1 She's a weird ass kissing with clearly ulterior motives

Bloom is Studying and her notebook is just FAIRY MAGIC POWER = EMOTIONS LOVE FEAR? HARTED? FIRE FAIRY CONTROL? in case you weren't paying attention Oh a flashback already to the magic triggering event? Her mother had pointed out she's an introvert, and past!Bloom doesn't Party. She goes Antiquing and is a Weird Loner (her 'basic bitch' of a mom's words) Swear count: Bitch 1 Bad daughter count: 1 Bad mother count: 1 Magic glowy eyes for Bloom: 1

Bloom Hates Parties and asks Pinky I mean Sky where she can be Away from People and he fears he'll be Mansplaing to her to. vague that it's dangerous outside instead of saying 'hey there's monsters and someone was just killed by possible one of them stay in the barrier' Stella wants to talk to Sky because they have History. I did hear there was a love triangle between these three. I am bored and everyone at this party is a nosey bitch who is watching their tense conversation. Also Something? Happens when Stella gets upset [mystical warbling] Random magic effects in the (very pretty) forest Bloom is trying to practice her magic on her own, and to do that she's gotta look at sad teen pics. And look, her burnt bedroom from her first power usage The fire magic is pretty good. I think fire is like. the opposite of water when it comes to cg where it almost always looks pretty good, while I swear i've seen the actual ocean look like a shitty render Magic out of control, bloom can't control her emotions, Aisha can stop her with water magic which makes some nice steam Bloom is angry at aisha for saving her. So far 3 of the 5 girls are abrasive at best remember when people made characters likeable? Swear count: Shit 1 (but it doubles as the literal meaning because of flooded toilets) Swear count: Bitch 1 Ass 1 Taking away your teen's door is. Really shitty. Not almost burn down your house worthy but damn cheerleader mom I do not understand sleep shirts with buttons. That seems painful if you lie the wrong way? Her mom was seriously burnt by first magic usage that's a backstory Shit count +1 Main character aspect time: dormant fairy blood line? awfully strong magic for that. baby who died day after it was born and now she's here? ...I was going to say changeling thanks aisha A Barbaric practice loving hints at long term world lore Hell is a bad word for kids!! Cutting to headmistress and her secret passage after finding out bloom is secret pureblood? this really is a harry potter thing

edgelord offers giggly some booze, and says pussies twice because he's Edgey and does peer pressure Tera calls him out and knows he's a sad nerd in disguise not a 'badass' and he says she's 'three people in disguise' because fatphobia shit +1 arehole +1 tera. chokes out edgelord with a vine because she's had enough of this shit. good for her edgelord is Riv, and he lived

OBLIGATORY GOOGLE SEARCH FOR THE TERM CHANGELING REMEMBER BELLA'S VAMPIRE GOOGLE GOD I LOVE TEEN FANTASY AND THEIR INSTANCE ON GOOGLING COMMON FANTASY TERMS OH hey the lamp bloom brought with her is the one she was fixing at home that's a nice touch Stella bonds with Bloom about homesickness, and the takes a selfie Musa is a mind fairy. So she. Is a telepath with purple eye magic? Oh there's types of 'connections' Memory, thought (others but i am cut off from the lore) Stella did Something to someone who Talked To Her Man last year and now lent Bloom her teleportation ring to send her some because miss mentor really cares more about her shitty man then helping the girls she's in charge of First World- earth Old Cemetery? Very Sexy. and bloom sweetie don't leave a mystical gateway open, and how will you explain to your parents how you're back so fast Wait she's only 16? SO this really is some european college where that's a funny way of saying High School Fire guilt, bad feelings about life shattering revelations, better connection with mother. I gotta say I have low expectations of this show carrying the family connection through the rest of this. That conversation felt more like a Hey We Made These Movements Onto Other Stuff Now

Lighting choices are interesting, with green, orange and purple for creepy warehouse. THE Creepy Warehouse where she would sleep without her parent's knowledge wow right that GIRL DROPS THE DAMN RING AT THE FIRST SIGN OF burned one looked more alien than werewolf-y here Decent Horror movie looks, and dude stole her ring. Rude. Saved by the headmistress, and tera/aisha/musa are here to great her Stella can't be here though because she has to greet a half naked freshly showered sky because life is suffering and producers insist people like to see teens half naked (who. Who?) shit +1 and she dumped him. pity part of one and using it to try to get your bone on. HEY A SONG I KNOW. IT'S WHATSITCALLED FROM THE BAYONETTA COMMERCIALS WAY BACK WHEN. in for the kill la roux. I do wish netflix would either commit to telling you what song was playing or didn't tell you at all

Riv offers Beatrix a hit from his joint because what Is a Bad Kid hasn't changed in like 70 years Blowing pot smoke into someone's mouth isn't as sexy as ya'll seem to think it is Musa has cute sleep socks with little pom poms, and I love Tera's floral jammies Tera offers a bluetooth speaker so they can listen to music together Musa also calls out Tera's fake happiness this is the good shit character interaction i live for Musa Empath Mind Fairy 'somber indie music'

If you kill a burned one in the human world Something? Extra bad happens? So the headmistress knows Bloom's a changeling, and ohhh that's the last time a burned one was spotted. Is Rosalind the famed Monster Slayer the birth mother of Bloom? Tera text flirts with Giggly who IS NAMED DANE and has a thing for. Sky? Riv? I told you these boys all look the same to me so if it's a half naked pic on fairy insta i'm out of context clues. Crymeariv is the insta name that answers that. Is this the slow burn enemies to lover mlm i can't finish this sentence i don't care riv is a dick Stella and Sky are in a bed and she doesn't seem to have a top on so Implied sexy times? MYSTERIOUS HOODED AND ROBED FIGURE CROSSES THROUGH THE BARRIAR AND SHOOTS THE BURNED ONE WITH LIGHTNING MAGIC OH IT'S beatrix

alt-J – Adeline as an ending song

#fate the winx saga #text #commentary #hey tumblr thanks for deleting all my text because I resized this window #we're off to a great start #fate episode 1

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