#grasping by the only thing that no matter how cursed would offer the feeling of safety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrilcvr · 14 days

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If you want to — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Word Count: 1,8K

Summary: Lamine noticed you hadn’t been sleeping and offers to spend the night with you so you aren’t alone. But you hadn’t expected his presence to relax you so much.

Disclaimer/s: all fluff <3 talks of not sleeping (insomnia), cursing.

A/N: This is based off “If you want to” by Beabadoobee!

A nudge to your shoulder had snapped you to attention, your heart rate skyrocketing as you’d just been woken from a half-sleeping state. Rubbing your tired eyes, you turn your attention to your best friend, your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Did I miss something?”

A quiet chuckle leaves Lamine’s lips as he nods his head to the rest of the classroom. Everyone was packing up their things before shuffling their way out of your maths class.

“You practically slept through the whole period.” Lamine notes as you begin putting your own things into your backpack.

Even then, you were moving at a sluggish pace. “My bad.” You sigh, tugging on the metallic zipper with an irritated huff. It’d got caught on the fabric, not budging no matter how harshly you tugged on it.

Before you could lose your temper, Lamine gentle takes the black backpack from your grasp. You watch with a frown as he slowly and gently fixes it, zipping it all the way down without any more of a struggle.

He hands it back with a teasing look, “next time don’t try to rip it apart and maybe it’ll cooperate?”

“Shut up.” You huff, standing up to tug the straps onto your shoulders.

Exiting the classroom, you walk beside Lamine. It was now lunch time, which meant you had the whole thirty minutes to possibly nap in the Library while the athlete got his fair share of carbs in.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” The boy beside you asks, his eyebrows dipped in concern.

Chewing on your bottom lip you reply honestly, “three or four, give or take. Probably closer to three.”

You wish you were joking, but unfortunately your insomnia was taking a tole on you. Getting worse and worse since the school year had started. It was pretty evident in your face as well, as Lamine had pointed out a few times before. Large purple eye bags and heavy eyes had now become your normal. No makeup could conceal the tired look that was always on your face.

Lamine nods his head slowly, opening the light washed doors for the both of you. He says your name in a drawled out tone, cocking his head to the side as he watches you walk past him and into the bustling cafeteria, “you gotta get more sleep, man.”

“I know that!” You groan, “but I just can’t sleep, like ever. It sucks too because I get so bored, but my brain just doesn’t shut off.”

“What if I come over tonight? I’ll hang out with you and we can study for the exam on Monday, maybe it’ll tore you out?” Lamine suggests, his smile genuine as he grabs the red trey before entering the short line for food.

“Really?” You perk up, “I mean, only if you want to, don’t feel obligated or anything.” You add on quickly, grabbing your own trey.

Lamine laughs, “if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have suggested it.” He grins, his elbow lightly tapping your bicep, sending a flurry of something new to your stomach. Something you definitely needed to ignore.

—

That night, Lamine texted you to inform you he’d be over right after he helped his mom clean up dinner. You smiled as you typed back a quick response to let him know the door would be unlocked.

It’d taken very little convincing for your parents to give the all okay when you’d asked if Lamine could stay over, as it was a very normal thing between you since you were kids. Plus, it helped that it was a Friday night.

You were sitting comfortably on your bed, the TV on and playing season three of Criminal minds (your second rewatch of the month), when your door opened without a knock. Lamine’s pajama clad figure entering soon after.

“Hey—“ He stops short, looking to the TV with a disappointed look. “Didn’t you just finish season fifteen like.. last week?”

“Technically, five days ago actually.” You shrug, watching as he makes his way around the bed, setting his backpack on the edge of the bed before slipping onto the bed.

He grabs the remote, pausing the episode. “Have you ever considered that damn show is why you can’t sleep?” He quirks his eyebrow, pressing the red button at the top of the remote, turning the TV black.

“Hey—! I was—whatever, ugh.” You slump back onto your many pillows with a huff of air. “It is just background noise, honestly.”

“Whatever you say..” Lamine sighs, reaching for his laptop in his backpack, pausing and turning to you, “are you going to get yours or..”

You blink, realizing you’d been staring at him without a thought in your head. “Oh! Right.. Homework and studying.. how fun.” Not.

For the next thirty minutes you attempted to focus on the work in front of you, but your mind was trailing off to earlier that day. You’d felt a strange sensation at his touch, one you hadn’t felt before and it was consuming your thoughts now more than ever as he sat beside you, your legs touching.

With a defeating groan, you close your laptop. “I can’t do this. I’m so sick of school, I just want to sleep.” Your frown deepens on your lips as you tilt you head to the side, resting it against the wall as Lamine mirrors you.

“Then sleep?” He offers obviously. “Without the TV on.” He quickly adds, a small grin on his face.

“I’m gonna hit you.” You scowl, but begin to put your laptop and textbook onto the side table.

Lamine does the same, setting them aside and getting comfortable under your large white blanket. Once the two of you were settled, you close your eyes, begging sleep to find you easily.

It doesn’t.

You toss and you turn and you huff and puff, yet you cannot sleep.

A loud yelp escapes your lips as Lamine rolls over, placing an arm around your waist and securing you against him, forcing you to stop moving.

“You’re being loud.” He grumbles through a sleepy voice. And that was enough to shut you up.

Lying in his arms, your heart beat rapidly slowing in your chest the longer he held you. And then the unexplainable happened, you fell asleep, a small smile on your face at the feeling of his soft breaths on your shoulder.

—

Your eyes flutter open, immediately clamping shut as the bright sunlight that burned your eyes. Letting out a loud whine, you move to face away from the sun, only to find your movement halted by the weight of an arm around you.

Right.

You open your eyes again, slower this time as they adjust to the sight in front of you. Lamine was silently scrolling on TikTok, his phone resting against your pillow, his head still resting beside yours.

A smile creeps onto your face, “what are you doing?” You laugh, moving your head to catch sight of his.

“Watching TikTok, what does it look like?” He quips, a humor filled grin on his face as he stares into your eyes, drinking in the way the sunlight hits off your face. He finds himself getting lost in the way your eyes are twinkling with amusement.

Clearing your throat, you face his phone once again, “well turn up the sound, weirdo.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, clicking the side of his phone till it’s at the perfect level. Butterflies attack your stomach at his words, but you push the feeling aside as you two watch his for you page, laughing at the stupid and funny ones, occasionally teasing him when an edit of himself pops up.

It’s not until your eyes flicker up to the time when you gasp, “Lamine! It’s 1:30? Why did you let me sleep in so long!?”

“I didn’t want to wake you!” Lamine argues defensively, “you needed your sleep.” He says the last sentence a lot more softly, more out of care than to actually prove a point.

Your bottom lip juts out, “wait, thats sweet. Appreciate it.” You grin, turning around to place a peck on his cheek, which was a normal thing you did, but this time he hadn’t expected it.

Lamine turns to face you, just as your lips were supposed to connect with his cheek, his lips are suddenly in the way. Soft lips instead of soft cheeks catches you off guard, your eyes widening as you quickly pull away.

“Oh fuck—“ You stutter out, “i’m so—“

“No! No—it’s okay!” He’s stumbling over his own words, both of your cheeks are flushed as you look at each other in shock.

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you staring at one another with slightly parted lips, the silence deafening. You were still in his arms, he was still holding onto you, neither of you dared to move.

“I’m so sorry, I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.” You finally cough out, your eyes narrowing with worry. Did you just fuck everything up?

Lamine’s chocolate eyes soften, “don’t feel sorry.”

Maybe you were reading too into things, but was he trying to say something more?

“I just kissed you..?” You cringe at the way the words that come from your mouth, you sounded like an idiot. This was humiliating.

Lamine’s mouth opens, then closes, then he gives you that look. The one he gave you every time you were slow to catch a meaning behind something. The one that made his lips pull back and his cheeks puffed a little. A look you loved.

God, you loved it. You loved him.

“What? Why are you making that face?” You say through a nervous giggle.

“I don’t want you to be sorry for kissing me, I just want you to do it again.” Lamine says, a bit more confidence in his voice as he does so. He was looking at you with longing in his eyes, and you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Your lips press against his again, feeling the way his lips form a smile as he kisses you right back. His hand snakes through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. The second you pull away, he’s peppering your lips with mini kisses, grinning like an idiot all the while.

You fall back against your pillows, a lovesick smile on your face as he leans over you, brushing stray strands of your bed hair out of your face.

“You look like a goof.” You tease, hand reaching up to touch his that was cupping your face.

“You’re not allowed to make fun of me, I just helped you get the best sleep of your life,” he points out, mater-of-factly before adding, “loser.”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his hand away, “ohhh, don’t let it get to your head.”

After a few more bickering exchanges, you both agree to start your day officially, both exiting your room to go make some ‘breakfast’.

Sickeningly sweet smiles on both of your faces as you make your way downstairs, Lamine’s hand never leaving yours.

(DT) @halfwayhearted ILY. Thank you for helping me on this my bonkkkk💟.

#lamine yamal #x reader #fanfic #lamine yamal x reader #x you #high school #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #im so sick about this.

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mschievousx · 4 months

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now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

v. five: lonely in your company

the young silva did not expect this at all. yes, lady whistledown wrote about quite a lengthy chat that the viscountess silva had with a certain son of the renowned pathologist, sir astley cooper, yesterday. but, for the rest of the gentlemen to flock her now? she was aghast.

while we have so far seen how she loves being in the bridgertons' companies and how she openly enjoy the things she finds fun, it is also as open she shows her distaste to the rest of the population—probably better that we haven't seen that part yet.

"i heard you like chocolates, lady silva."

"i believe we share the same interest in mechanical science."

"we have quite the collection of guns ourselves, my lady."

"a convention in astronomy is happening in the near future. if i may be so bold to have your presence when the time comes?"

honestly, she liked the last offer—had the man been fifteen years younger. it would have not mattered to her though, if only it was benedict.

the men continued to force their offers on her face. a man pulls another to the back to have his turn. a man pushed his bouquet forward. a man yelled his offer from the back. a man—

"excuse me, gentlemen. may i have a moment with the lady?"

a woman's voice stood out from the clamor, causing the men to turn and giving a space for her to take a hold of the younger one.

the ladies did not wait for the men's responses as they easily linked arms and walked away. although they could not do anything seeing as causing a scene in the queen's presence is not to everyone's benefit, they did groaned and cursed that a viscountess got away from their grasps.

"i cannot thank you enough for that, lady arnold."

loraine spoke gratefulness, her mood still marred from the encounter.

"you know there is no need for that. you act like we do not know each other." the widowed woman warmly smiled at her as she gave a squeeze on the silva's shoulder.

"i am simply grateful," she insisted, followed by a scoff, "i talk to another man and the rest of them think they could."

lady arnold chuckled at her stubborness, "i see, you still have not stopped using your father to fend off possible suitors?"

"i fend them off with anything i can. a gun, if i must."

the older woman said an immediate shush as if on reflex, something akin to a fear of being heard about using guns on suitors—although she herself would love to do so, "do you carry?"

"oh, no. the regular size is too heavy and bulky to conceal in a dress." raine said with clear annoyance that she could not carry one conveniently, "i am currently working on a smaller one."

do note that she already finished one.

at the mention of her creating a smaller version just simply because she would like to hide one made her look staggered at the young one, "and yet, you refuse to join the discussion inside."

lady silva moaned in displeasure, "i already went in. all he talks about is the principle of circular motion."

while interesting at first read, it gets boring mean you have understood it. the concept itself is significant, no doubt, in explaining various natural as well as mechanical sciences. however, she simply did not feel up to it today.

"that and i hate balloons."

lady arnold laughed at her honesty, bidding farewell to her as she continues to the dome. raine walks by herself, trying to find the bridgertons. while she did have other friends, she was not as keen to spend time with them as she did with the said family.

and so, she strolled until she found something interesting. eloise, cressida, and penelope; all surrounding the poor man.

"what do we have here?" she mouthed to eloise from the side of lord debling and penelope.

as the bridgerton girl shrugged and gestured nothing to her, the rest of the group noticed her arrival.

"ah, lady silva." the man greeted with a hidden familiarity.

"lord debling." raine tightly smiled at him in return.

miss cowper turned to the young girl, "loraine, you are an enjoyer of science just like lord debling, are you not?"

"oh, cressida," she began with a chuckle. she does not mean any offense to her though. while the said woman was indeed quite ill-natured, so was she. therefore, she is not one to judge the other, "you would be surprised by the amount of different sciences there are."

lord debling turned back to the cowper, "we do not share the same interest."

"we despise each other." raine nodded to that reassuringly, causing the man to look at her with seriousness.

"i do not despise you."

"your loss," the young silva shrugged with a hint of jest, "i despise you."

"such a strong word, my lady."

"i am petty like that." she giggled, lightly tapping the arm of the man in a friendly manner as she continued.

"do continue your conversation. i apologise for the intrusion."

raine stepped back with a smile and neared eloise, "where is your brother?"

"i did not see him. i thought he is with you?" she asked back, trying to look around herself too to catch a glimpse of her brother.

good thing she was looking around though because she had enough time to grab the other girl by the hand as the extraordinary balloon started to fly their way.

penelope, however, was stunned on their place. lord debling did not think twice to cover the girl for safety. while they did not agree with the science, she would give him points for that act.

raine turned to the men pulling the balloon, seeing colin upfront. such a personality he is embracing now, she thought. another bridgerton stole her attention though, because just meters away, benedict can be seen rubbing his palms as if in pain from pulling the ties.

she turned to eloise to bid farewell, thinking to go to him. however, as she turned back to where he was, he was now rushing to walk away.

her confusion was interrupted when cressida suddenly yelped in pain. catching on to her hidden agenda, raine rolled her eyes.

"ugh, i really hate balloons."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

after the incident, they all went home, likely to also prepare for the ball this evening. she went with the bridgertons to their home, not wanting to disturb her father for whatever work he's doing again.

the girl grumbled as she laid down on their couch, completely not listening to whatever conversation the family was having. everyone was doing something—gregory and hyacinth eating biscuits and quarreling, francesca playing the piano, colin reading and benedict sketching, and violet and eloise talking.

raine groaned once again before speaking on her own, "my father is so busy. it is almost like he is not here at all."

she continued to stare at the ceiling, only looking at the family after a prolonged silence of whatever they were doing. lady bridgerton was staring at her lovingly as eloise added, "and when he is away, you keep on saying you want him to go home already."

raine feigned ignorance to what she said, acting like she did not say that at all—which she did say, by the way, quite a lot too.

"ben," she called for the man across who seems to be ignoring the entire happenings in the drawing room.

"hmm," he replied with a hum, intent on his sketch.

"will you marry me so that someone will be with me when father leaves again?" she said as she sit up about to go to him.

"no," he replied, looking up from the pad and to her briefly before standing up himself, "i will be painting in my room."

he turned away after bidding farewell to everyone, the sound of his footsteps slowly fading. violet and eloise turned to raine after that, confusion clear on their faces as if asking what happened.

honestly, she is asking the same thing.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

her second ball—to be honest, balls are not as fun as the ton made it out to be. with the exception of what seems to be a men's club inside, there is nothing much in it.

"the surgeon from yesterday said he will be writing you a letter." she turned to see astley cooper, looking more dashing in a ball's fit, and still lacking greetings.

she smiled at what he said, "are they really going to study my suggestion?"

"of course, your points were quite strong. why do you seem to be doubting yourself now?"

she shrugged as she placed her glass down, "i was brazen yesterday. i am not feeling like it now."

letting out a sigh, she lifted her glass again and took quite a sip with a new resolution, "well, they better do because i have already boasted to my father that i made an expert pause and think about my ideas."

he chuckled at her changing moods in just five seconds, "oh, he shall prepare to be more proud then."

"lady silva, may i have this dance?" she turned to her right, only to see the brother of who she's waiting for.

"anthony, i told you. i am not going to dance with you first."

the viscount stood straight again, slowly retracting his hand, "you have not danced yet tonight?"

she let out a small groan at the reminder, "should i have?"

he chuckled, crossing his arms as if in deep thinking before chuckling again, "you are so obsessed with him. it is just a dance. he was already your first ever dance."

raine stopped the glass she was about to drink midway. she narrowed her eyes pointedly to the older man, the latter rolling his eyes, "okay, fine."

"viscountess silva, you are needed." a footman called for the lady, gaining the attention of the pair. his voice carried seriousness, yet that is not enough to reveal what it could be about. they all spoke monotonously during working hours.

she tapped anthony's arm before walking across the room, swiftly dodging the ton.

"lady silva."

a soldier strictly acknowledged the young lady. the man was sweating considerably as he pulled a letter from his pocket. he passed it to the girl in front of him without any word.

as raine took hold of the letter, small red stains are noticeable as well as the lack of seal. she opened to see the contents of it written in a hasty manner. her eyes flew from word to word, line to line. the lack of greetings, the lack of complimentary close.

she was not sure if this was done in jest—she would like it to be. however, upon observing the man in front of her now, his hand is visibly shaking. and so, she shut her eyes closed, crumbling part of the paper on her grip.

"name?"

"morgan," he answered with no mention of his rank. perhaps, this is his way of being sympathetic to the silva in front of him. perhaps, offering himself as a fellow person rather than a soldier would offer comfort.

"tell me where they are, morgan." she stared directly in his eyes, voice now void of the festivities behind her.

"i cannot tell."

"oh, you surely can." her volume starting to increase, sarcasm, anger, fear, and grief mixed.

"my lady, i am under strict command to not tell you their whereabouts." he did not break his eye contact, believing it as a form of respect to the girl.

she stepped forward, grasping her concealed small gun inside her dress out as she start to scream, "tell me or i will—"

"raine," a man grabbed her, pushing the gun down before anyone can wander their eyes on it. he swiftly took and pocketed it on his own. he turned to the young one, putting both palms on her cheek as if to call for her, "raine."

anthony crossed the hall as fast as he could after noticing her crumbling the paper, excusing himself from mr. cooper who conversed with him after she left. he was not the best man when it comes to emotion, but he knows anger like an old friend. and raine? she was rarely angry. she despises everything on a daily basis, but never with rage. and so, he knew something was wrong—very wrong.

he looked at her directly in the eyes, seemingly finding her behind it as he whispered, "there is a lot of people present. the ton is here."

"i do not give a hell about them. where is my father?!" he pushed the viscount away, freeing from his grasp but he reached again instantly, as if knowing how to deal with her already.

"darling, do not yell," he spoke in the same warm voice, "what happened?"

"papa has been shot," her voice broke upon saying it out aloud, just as her tears from her eyes, "in the shoulder and chest!"

raine nearly dropped down, if anthony did not pull her to him in time. although they were outside, the ball is still quite crowded. they could not let this go out. they could not let people see and know of this.

"i—" the viscount could not find the right words to say at the moment, he himself now feeling the panic akin to what he has experienced before.

sergeant morgan informed them of raphael's orders, him being the second-in-command of the currently incapacitated general, "colonel montague has ordered to have you stay in the ball. this is surrounded by our men, and the people responsible are less likely to attack a crowded event."

anthony nodded to acknowledge what the soldier said as raine is starting to lose herself, muttering on her own, "papa was shot."

while the general has certainly been shot before, this is possibly the most fatal. raphael knew that the girl would prefer the exact information, even in grievous situations. she hates when people feel the need to protect her from the truth.

and so, that is what the colonel wrote. he mentioned his state in all its actuality. general has been shot four times, once in the shoulder and thrice on the chest, sternum to left. he is bleeding heavily and is currently unconscious. we will be going on another quarters. i ask you stay at the ball. after, be with major thorpe at all times.

she pushed the viscount once again and turned back to the ball inside, "le—leave me be."

before anthony could take a hold of her, she already has entered inside. forcing to assist the girl would only raise suspicions now. she walked slowly, eyes darting from point to point as if looking for something. good thing it is a ball, and people will brush off her actions as a bit intoxicated—which could not be farther from the truth.

"where's...." she whispered to herself, not knowing that she is saying it out aloud, "where is... benedict?"

raine turned and turned, left and right, but she could not find even his shadow in the dance floor or within the hall. so, she continued to walk aimlessly, only to find who she's looking for at the bottom of the stairs, with a familiar lady conversing with him from a few steps higher. her mind was wandering. she did not understand a thing anymore.

"i need to go," she muttered to no one in particular, turning to a corner where a staircase leading to another wing can be seen.

she gripped the bannister, anthony in tow, seeing his wife in conversation with his mother. he gestured for kate to come to them, offering a smile to not raise worry before disappearing from view.

raine continues to find her way to the balcony, breaths already starting to be more noticeably heavy. fortunately, the place was vacated with no other person in sight. she dragged her feet and found comfort on the corner between the wall and a balustrade, sitting down with her knees on her chest.

"an—anthony," she began after a few gasps of air, the said man leaning closer as he crouched in front of her too.

"papa... papa was shot." the young girl reiterated in disbelief and grief. she left first for the ball as armand told his daughter he had some things to work for a bit with raphael. they were supposed to arrive late in the ball.

they were supposed to arrive on the ball.

he continues to comfort her, saying that her father's going to be well. he is a general, after all. the viscountess bridgerton reaches them with a smile, but it is immediately changed with a confuse and worried one when she sees what's happening.

anthony turned to her in a rushed manner, "kate, get my brother."

she knew better than to ask why. kate has always been a smart woman. she does not know, but she understands. and so, she nodded at him and turned on her heel in a hurry.

"you... will not find him. he—he is..." the girl whimpered. she cannot even see anything, her eyes blurried intensely as she fights to hold on to herself, "with lady..."

anthony caressed her hair before leaning his forehead to hers, speaking with the smallest and most serene voice he could, "shh, it's okay, raine. i am here. you can do—"

there were so many things happening all at once. she could not focus. she could not hold on to this for any longer.

"an..." she began, her words dying in the middle as she gasps and gasps, "tony...? i cannot... i cannot hear."

the fear started to settle in more to her. she cannot even hear her own voice. she hears nothing but the beat of her heart, irregularly fast.

she fumbled, trying to find his hands, and as soon as she did, raine squeezed it tightly.

"tony, i'm..."

she does not even know if she was able to say the following words. she has thought of it before, but more strongly now. she is thinking of it now, and she hopes that the thought counts.

"i need him."

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #father daughter tandem is fire here because we cant have it in real life #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x oc #anthony bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton

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edenmemes · 1 year

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asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters

❝ i fear i make you uneasy. ❞ ❝ knowledge is a weapon. arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle. ❞ ❝ go on. show your steel. give me cause to do the same. ❞ ❝ fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. ❞ ❝ these woods are not as empty as you think. ❞ ❝ promise me that you will never turn against me. i could not bear that. promise me. ❞ ❝ the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid. ❞ ❝ if i must die, i will die with an axe in my hand and a curse upon my lips. ❞ ❝ tales are told of you. i hear them everywhere. people fear you. ❞ ❝ go too far down that road, and mistrust can poison you, make you sour and fearful. ❞ ❝ you mistake me. that was a command, not an offer. ❞ ❝ sorcery is a sword without a hilt. there is no safe way to grasp it. ❞ ❝ prophecy is like a half-trained mule. it looks like it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. ❞ ❝ it is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. ❞ ❝ i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. i tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. ❞ ❝ they think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. ❞ ❝ tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. remind me that there is still good in the world. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. ❞ ❝ my enemies have told you i am dead. those tales are false, as you can see. ❞ ❝ not all that a man does is done for gain. ❞ ❝ i know that you believe me weak, frightened, feeble. ❞ ❝ it takes a man to rule. kill the boy, and let the man be born. ❞ ❝ do you mean to spend your whole life running away? ❞ ❝ kingdoms are at hazard here. our lives, our names, our honour. this is no game we’re playing for your amusement. ❞ ❝ however gentle the words, there are always darker motives underneath. i do not trust you. ❞ ❝ a good honest face, but you should smile more. ❞ ❝ my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. ❞ ❝ you are so radiant today i fear to look on you. ❞ ❝ prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way. ❞ ❝ you need not look so pale, i was only playing with you. ❞ ❝ this is not the day i die, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i wanted you from the first time i saw you. ❞ ❝ was i so blind, or did i close my eyes willingly, so i would not see the price of power? ❞ ❝ men should not go wandering in this place. ❞ ❝ hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had. ❞ ❝ you won’t try. you will obey. ❞ ❝ kneel and live. or go and die. it’s your choice to make. ❞ ❝ are you so blind, or is it that you do not wish to see? ❞ ❝ that is not a place you want to go to. ❞ ❝ i will not go back without doing what i came for, no matter how hopeless it may seem. ❞ ❝ the fairest woman in this world...i am drunk with the sight of you. ❞ ❝ secrets are worth more than silver and sapphires. ❞ ❝ we have come too far to turn back now. ❞ ❝ what have i done to make you hate me so? ❞ ❝ you meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days. ❞ ❝ it is true, i am a bolder man than most. ❞ ❝ i cannot go home. but i dare not stay here much longer. ❞ ❝ foes and false friends are all around me. ❞ ❝ the fewer folk who will know of this, the better. ❞ ❝ all you have i gave you. remember that. ❞ ❝ will you make me say it twice? go and do as i commanded you. ❞ ❝ love is madness, and lust is poison. ❞ ❝ i feel safe when i’m with you. ❞ ❝ have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? ❞ ❝ why did i ever allow myself to be talked into this farce? ❞ ❝ don’t think i don’t see what you’re doing. ❞ ❝ i will tell you nothing. do me the same favor. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ a crown should not sit easy on the head. ❞ ❝ we must show a little trust, you and i. ❞ ❝ trust only your companions, and do your best to avoid attracting notice. ❞ ❝ you’re not going to try to kill me again, i hope. ❞ ❝ if you will forgive me for saying so, you look...weary. are you sleeping? ❞ ❝ your clothes are stained with blood. take them off. ❞ ❝ every fool loves to hear that he’s important. ❞ ❝ my father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. ❞ ❝ you are a harmless creature, to be sure. as innocent as a lamb. ❞ ❝ till then, let us drink and dream. ❞ ❝ you will be tempted to betray me. to run or fight or join our foes. i’ll not hear you deny it. ❞ ❝ soon enough you may have grave need of me. do not refuse my friendship. ❞ ❝ it is best that no man knows that you are here. ❞ ❝ i kill kings, haven’t you heard? ❞ ❝ should any ill befall you, this world would lose its savor. ❞ ❝ some will look at you and see only another doomed pretender. ❞ ❝ i think life is a jape. yours, mine, everyone’s. ❞ ❝ i will forgive those words...once. but never presume to threaten me again. ❞ ❝ your father would be so proud if he could see you. ❞ ❝ just once you might try to give me an answer that would please me. ❞ ❝ they love me well. none would betray me. ❞ ❝ i have sins enough to answer for; i’ll have no part of this one. ❞ ❝ i mean you no harm, you know. ❞ ❝ i do not trust you, but i need you. ❞ ❝ we’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. close your eyes. ❞ ❝ since you ask so nicely, how can i deny you? ❞ ❝ no wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. ❞ ❝ why should i beg for what is owed me? ❞ ❝ a lord may love the men he commands, but he cannot be a friend to them. ❞ ❝ let them try and trouble us, we’ll show them what we’re made of. ❞ ❝ a leader should be feared, by friend and foe alike. if men think me cruel, so much the better. ❞ ❝ the enemy of my friend is my enemy. ❞ ❝ a book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands. ❞ ❝ i am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. ❞ ❝ these are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. ❞ ❝ we need to find shelter before nightfall. ❞ ❝ there are footsteps behind us. we are being followed. ❞ ❝ this is no common fog. it stinks of sorcery. ❞ ❝ i am glad you came to me. it is good to see you again, my friend. ❞ ❝ the man who does nothing also takes a risk. ❞ ❝ the women are the strong ones. ❞ ❝ afraid, are you? i would be if i were you. ❞ ❝ tell me a tale. some tale of valor with a happy ending. ❞ ❝ i’ll have a cup of wine as well. to clear my head. ❞ ❝ we may lose our heads, it’s true...but what if we prevail? ❞ ❝ keep your swords sharp. we’ll have us a real fight soon. ❞ ❝ this is going to end badly. ❞ ❝ what are you doing here? how did you get past my guards? ❞ ❝ it is so hard. to be strong. i don’t always know what i should do. ❞ ❝ let us instead speak of love, of dreams and desire. ❞ ❝ you wound me, wandering off like this. have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon? ❞ ❝ with this sword i defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. ❞ ❝ it is too late for such misgivings. you made your choice. ❞ ❝ in times as confused as these, even men of honor must wonder where their duty lies. ❞ ❝ why? what did i ever do to you? ❞ ❝ we must be certain that we do not choose the losing side. ❞ ❝ dream sweet dreams. there are no monsters here. ❞ ❝ i know who you are. i know what you are. ❞ ❝ a little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet. ❞ ❝ a bloody sword is a beautiful thing. ❞ ❝ a ruler belongs to their people, not to themself. ❞ ❝ if the ones i killed come haunt me, i will kill them all again. ❞ ❝ you shine so brightly, you will blind every man who dares look upon you. ❞ ❝ a fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, i’ve heard it said. ❞ ❝ there’s blood on your hands, aye, same as mine. ❞ ❝ i have done wicked things, i know, but i could not bear for you to hate me. ❞ ❝ it is good to see you smiling again. ❞ ❝ i have doubts enough without you throwing oil on the fire of my fear. ❞ ❝ blood pays for blood, a life for a life. ❞ ❝ go home, if that is what you want. i am staying. ❞ ❝ a man’d think there’s no trust between us. ❞ ❝ i would choose freedom over comfort every time. ❞ ❝ you are even lovelier than i was told. ❞ ❝ stay. i do not wish to be alone. ❞ ❝ treachery on treachery. is there no end to it? ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ one wrong word, and this could turn to blood in half a heartbeat. ❞ ❝ you lie. i can see the truth in your eyes. ❞ ❝ throw down your steel and stand aside, and no harm need come to you. ❞ ❝ you are supposed to be my friend. why must you mock my hopes? ❞ ❝ it is better to die with honor than to live without it. ❞ ❝ it does no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. ❞ ❝ i see you are deaf to sense. ❞ ❝ you are no better than me. we’re just the same. ❞ ❝ a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it. ❞ ❝ you kill men for the wrongs they have done, not the wrongs that they may do someday. ❞ ❝ close your eyes. close your ears. turn away. you do not need to see this. ❞ ❝ the sooner we are gone from this place, the better. ❞ ❝ i am sorry my actions have displeased you. i did as i thought best. ❞ ❝ you do not need to trust a man to use him. ❞ ❝ if you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. there is no shame in that. ❞ ❝ never wound a foe when you can kill him. dead men don’t claim vengeance. ❞ ❝ this is what i wanted, what i worked for. so why does it taste so much like defeat? ❞ ❝ honest men should never need to hide their faces. ❞ ❝ i am not the trusting fool you take me for. ❞ ❝ men’s lives have meaning, not their deaths. ❞ ❝ he’s dead. he won’t bite. ❞ ❝ if this is the price for peace, i pay it willingly. ❞ ❝ it makes me wonder whose side you are on. ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ i will not say that you are welcome. nor will i deny that i have hoped that you might come. ❞ ❝ you have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood. ❞ ❝ men are mad and gods are madder. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ not all risks lead to ruin. ❞ ❝ is there some place with fewer eyes and ears? ❞ ❝ i need you now as i have never needed you before. ❞ ❝ tell me, is there any fight left in you? ❞ ❝ it was the wind that you heard screaming. ❞ ❝ crying? i was not crying. why would i cry? ❞ ❝ are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your way? ❞ ❝ rain. a storm is coming. ❞ ❝ that was simple. simpler than i dared hope. simpler than it should have been. ❞ ❝ see that you do not speak of this. i’ll not have this tale spread. ❞ ❝ how could i be so blind for so long? ❞ ❝ you had a bad dream, that was all. ❞ ❝ are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance? ❞ ❝ i will do it. i said i would. i will. ❞ ❝ think that. believe that. tell yourself it’s true. ❞ ❝ you have more enemies than you know. ❞ ❝ i have no heart. i only have a hole. ❞ ❝ it has been too long since i’ve killed a man. ❞ ❝ words are wind. words cannot harm me. ❞ ❝ have you forgotten who i am? ❞ ❝ too many good men died that day. ❞ ❝ it is so good to see your face, your sweet face. ❞ ❝ it is still not too late to abandon this folly. ❞ ❝ i will not stay here to be insulted. ❞

#rp meme #rp starters #long post for ts #roleplay meme #roleplay starters

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spacebarbarianweird · 9 months

Note

Hi, discord friend! this is one of the silly ideas I had �� Asterion is having a very bad luck day. He keeps dropping things, setting off traps, breaking lockpicks, he ripped his shirt, and now his seduction skills are lacking hard. How would he navigate it?

As someone who is very clumsy and tends to panic a lot (triggered even by something unimportant), I can totally relate to Astarion is this prompt.

Thanks @brabblesblog for beta reading!

Tainted

Synopsis: Astarion believes he's been healed - but yet another unpleasant interaction and the darkness is back.

Tags: post-game, established relationship, mentions of past trauma.

TW: Conversation about triggers.

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion looks around the street. The town of Daggerfold, barely home to more than a thousand people, is dark and peaceful. Just a stopover for travelers, but once a part of a long-gone kingdom of the past.

He carefully navigates to a tavern where he stays with you. He was hesitant about renting a room first.

"They will notice I am a vampire, darling, and I am afraid. People in those cities tend to hate vampire lovers more than the Undead themselves."

But you looked at him with those puppy eyes (learned from a professional), and he agreed. Besides, not being constricted to the tent for the whole day feels nice.

Astarion can walk around the room and the tavern, read, and talk to the people if he wants (he usually doesn't) and you can sleep in a comfortable bed.

Besides, you both have had a bath for the first time in weeks today.

Astarion notices the signs of the pre-dawn on the east. The innate fear grasps his mind.

Run. Run. Run.

Hide. Or die. Elves call it mor. The ultimate death, without resurrection to come.

Astarion forces himself to calm down. It's still too early and the Inn is already visible in the distance. He doesn't even have to rush.

A hand grabs his wrist and he flinches, disturbed by the unwelcome touch.

The young man, probably a half-elf, tries to pull him closer, seductively licking his lips, a gesture too familiar for Astarion not to notice.

"Looking for company, handsome?" His words are sweet and full of lust. "I can offer you a time of pleasure."

Astarion wants to set himself free, just to go away. It's not supposed to be difficult. It's not like the young man's grip is tight. A simple "no" is enough, people in this profession don’t tend to insist.

The vampire knows it from personal experience.

"Your skin is so pale, almost like marble. And hands... so cold. Come on, I will warm you"

Astarion is paralyzed. As if he is ordered not to move. Like he often used to be.

When he was on the other side of this conversation. When he was the man who needed to get a client as soon as he could.

Seeing no resistance, the prostitute reaches out for his cheek.

His touch is acid-burning.

"GO AWAY!" Astarion yells, almost betraying his fangs. "Leave me alone!"

The man is taken aback and immediately pulls away. Astarion curses and mutters through his teeth all the slurs he remembers.

Every word he ever heard from passers-by.

Whore. Slut.

Filliken.

There is a disgusted and evil smile on the man's face. "You were like me, am I right? All of you… former colleagues, are like that."

Astarion steps back. A dark wave of terror drags him to the abyss. The sun is almost up.

He makes himself move towards the Inn.

"But you can't escape your past! You hear me? It will always be with you, no matter how hard you try to wash it all away!"

Astarion runs. The moment the first ray pierces the air, he is already in the safe shadow of a sleepy inn.

It's almost empty. Only a few drunkards sleep peacefully on the floor. Astarion goes upstairs, praying you aren't back yet.

Because he doesn't want to look at you right now.

His hands tremble and dark thoughts plague his mind like a swarm of flies.

The room is empty and your walking boots are missing. He sighs in relief.

That's the problem with you. You know when something is wrong. Even if you understand he doesn't want to discuss it, you still acknowledge it.

Besides, if you were in the room, you would hear the screams.

Astarion falls on the bed, not bothering to undress himself, and closes his eyes.

He needs to meditate. He needs to wander away. When he wakes up, it will be better.

But Astarion should know better; it never works like that.

Again and again, he sees the same things. Hands of strangers, touching him without his consent. His cheeks, his chest, his back. His private parts. Grabbing and groping him. Laughing and smiling. Future victims. Useful people he needed to extract information from. Others whom he just needs to please.

Sweat that feels like acid. Touches that hurt like red-hot tongs. Intimacy is worse than torture.

Astarion tries to force his mind to remember something else. You, he needs to remember you. Your touches, your voice, your blood. He attempts to visualize you but instead, it's a look-alike stranger, a fake voice with hurtful words.

He sits up, pressing his hands to the chest. His body feels rested but his mind is exhausted. Astarion hears voices from downstairs - busy afternoon in the tavern.

…You sleep beside him pressing your face into the pillow. Astarion notices that his boots are taken off and his body is covered with a blanket. It seems like when you came back, you put the shoes off him and tucked him in the blanket.

Astarion carefully gets out of bed. He still has a few hours before you wake up and he needs to occupy his mind with something.

It seems like the trance has made things worse.

Astarion, moron, you taint Tav. A voice within his undead heart whispers. Your past will never go away. Your skin is dirty. People will always know who you are. Tav pities you but even heroes are tired of being saviors.

This will never be over. Whatever he does. Wherever he goes, his past will follow him like the smell of death. He ruins you. He destroys you.

Astarion takes a book out of the bag and opens it randomly. A trembling hand tries to turn the page.

And tears it.

Fuck.

The books fall to the floor with a loud thump.

You move in your sleep but don't wake up. Astarion, cursing himself for being so clumsy, picks it up and immediately bumps his head on the wooden table.

Tainted. Tainted, the voices keep whispering, completely taking away all the control. His body doesn't belong to him. All the movements are off.

"Astarion, are you all right?" you mumble in the pillow.

"Yes... my... I am ... " The ability to talk properly leaves him as well.

He needs to go out. At least, he can sit in a tavern and look for potential contracts.

In a tavern similar to his hunting spots. And where yet another person might try to get him to bed.

He pulls out the door, but it is locked. He looks around and sees the key on the table. Tries to take it but it slips away through his fingers.

"Is anything wrong?" you yawn, sitting up. Your face is sleepy and the hair is messy.

"No... I am..."

You stand up and while still half-asleep pick up the key and open the door. Astarion stays at the threshold, fearing to fall down the stairs the moment he leaves the room.

"Astarion, the more I live with you, the more you resemble a cat to me! Do you want to stay inside or go out?"

"I ... "

His hands are still trembling. You look at them, noticing the tremor.

And close the door.

"I take my words back about you being a cat. You are more like a hobgoblin now."

"Careful, darling, I can get offended"

"So, you can speak now. What's wrong? You don’t look drunk to me, so?"

"Nothing important. Please, go to sleep."

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No, nothing"

"Liar."

Before he manages to object, you make him return to bed. As he sits down, you help him to undress. The light armor he forgot to put off, the shirt, and the trousers are carefully placed on the chair. He stays only in his underwear.

His hands are still shaking.

“I would gladly offer you my blood, but I am afraid you will pierce my carotid artery in your current state.”

Astarion nods. You lie on the bed and pull him to you. He places his head on your chest. You wrap your hands around him as if protecting him from the outside world and his own mind.

You are warm like sunlight.

You lie silently under the blanket in the dark room. You got the cheapest room in the Inn – the one without windows and the Innkeeper couldn’t understand why you two were so content about it.

“Can I touch your back?” you ask.

"What? Of course... Of course, you can. Why do you even ask?"

"Because I care about you", a gentle caress brushes over his scars. “Because I want you to feel safe.”

And he gives up. He tells you everything. About the man on the streets. The words and curses Astarion addressed mostly to himself.

"I feel tainted," he admits. “I feel that I ruined you. I can't undo my past. It follows me like a shadow. And I bring this shadow to our bed!

A soft kiss. Then, another. Fingers draw invisible pictures on his skin. Tears prickle his eyes.

Why is he so weak? Why is he so pathetic?

Noticing his tension, you tug him closer.

"I am sorry", he mutters. "I thought I had already recovered. That the things have already gotten better."

"They have. And you can't make progress without taking any steps back. It's a part of growth."

He chuckles but still feels miserable. He doesn't know what makes him feel worse. The thoughts in his head or the understanding that he has been lying to himself.

Astarion believed he was healed. It was a lie.

"You don't taint me, Astarion. You don't ruin me. I don't care how many people touched you. I care only about what you are and what you want to be."

He finally finds the strength to pull you closer to himself. "I want it to be over. I want to move forward. But I just can't. It seems like… he truly broke me. There is nothing to repair.”

“A broken man wouldn’t desire revenge the very moment he acquired freedom. Broken people beg to be returned to their masters. A broken man wouldn’t fight back. You aren’t broken and you are healing. And I love you. Never doubt it.”

You lie together in silence. Astarion notices his hands don’t tremble anymore and he relaxes a bit. He is safe.

But is he happy?

He concentrates on his feelings. He is in the dark room protected from the sun. On the soft and comfy bed. His hands are wrapped around you, the first and only person he cares about and loves. And who gives him everything he thought he wasn’t worthy of? A heavy thick blanket covers you both. The touches on his bare skin are so gentle he is about to cry. The soothing heartbeat sounds like a lullaby.

Yes, he is happy. Even if his mind tries to tell him otherwise.

You fall asleep again, and Astarion stays motionless not wanting to wake you up yet again.

When he finally notices your movements, indication that you are ready to wake up. He frees himself from your grip and presses his lips against yours. He kisses you softly, slowly, tasting you.

Thanking you.

“Feeling better?” you ask once your eyes open.

"Hello, darling", he smiles. “Yes, I am.”

Mor - ultimate death. Filliken - “open skirt”, a prostitute (a slur).

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

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madi-writes-things · 5 months

Text

Nobody Pt. 4

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,332

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), fluff, PDA, fake dating chaos, mention of cramps and throwing up because of the pain, bad sex joke, use of emojis (I have no clue how else to explain the exact reactions other than the emojis), drinking/being drunk (I’ve never been drunk, so forgive me if my portrayal is off), Not Edited

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, I’ve literally been locked in my room for two weeks with no motivation. I really hope that y’all like this chapter. I’m also hoping to work on some other stuff coming up soon. 😁

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Nick and Matt stood at the island as me and Chris walked into the kitchen. I caught Nick’s eye as I set down enough food to feed a small militia. He just stares.

Matt hits him in the shoulder, prompting him to give him a dirty look before speaking. “I’m sorry…” He looked like he wasn’t sure what all he needed to apologize for. “I’m sorry that I punched you” he nodded toward Chris. “I’m sorry that I made you cry, I feel really bad about that.” He averts his eyes, and I think I see a small glint of shame.

I physically can’t stay mad at him, and I make it very obvious when I envelop him into a rib crushing hug. He whispers a small thank you in my ear before I walk back to the other side of the island to unpack the food. As I start unpacking breakfast I feel arms wrap around my waist, and a chin resting on my shoulder.

I freeze up, and Chris mumbles a quick “is this okay?” Into my hair. I look around realizing that Matt and Nick don’t even notice, much too invested in their food to care. I nod my head, trying to will the rosy shade to leave my face.

I’m failing miserably.

after breakfast me and Chris went upstairs to watch a movie in his room. Matt was quick to respond in the worst way possible.

“Sock that wang before you bang… and please be quiet, I don’t want to hear my brother doin it”

Y/N: 😨

Chris: 😮

Nick: 😟

Matt: 😁

needless to say, me and Chris practically teleported upstairs and away from that mortifying experience. We enter his room in a fit of laughter, practically collapsing onto the bed.

After a second I noticed that Chris had stopped laughing… his laughter is addictive, and I already missed it. I turned to see him staring at me with a look in his blue eyes that I couldn’t quite grasp. He looked happy and sad and something else all at once.

“What?” I giggled as I said it, still thinking about what Matt said only a few minutes earlier.

“are you doing okay?” This question again… I never know what to say when people ask me that. Right now I’m doing great… but in 30 minutes, or a week, or even a month I might break down again.

that’s never the answer that people want. They want something simple, yes or no. He stares at me patiently waiting for my response, it makes me feel bad for not having one.

“I’m okay right now…” he gives me a quick nod before speaking again.

“Okay, will you tell me when you aren’t doing good?” Why is he offering this, he doesn’t want to deal with me. “You need a safe space, and you clearly aren’t going to tell Nick. Let me be your safe space.”

“okay”

With that we got comfy on his bed and found a movie.

“”“”“”“”“”

things carried on like this for months.

doing good.

going down.

running to Chris.

repeat.

he was always so sweet and caring. He would hold me while I cried Myself to sleep, he would walk me home early from an event if I wanted to leave, he would hold my hair back and get me a heating pad when my cramps got bad… no matter what, he was there. He had also started being more touchy in public, leaning into the fake relationship for those around us. It made me feel things that I tried to avoid for years.

I think I hate him… how DARE he make me fall in love with him, knowing that none of this is real. How dare he kiss me at parties, and hold me during movie nights, and make me feel safe when none of it is real for him.

“you okay baby?” He snaps me out of my thoughts with the use of his new favorite nickname for me. I melt when he calls me his baby, unfortunately a small part of me also dies inside every time I hear it.

“yeah, just a little tired.” We’ve been at this party for like three hours, and I haven’t even touched my drink. When Chris is tipsy he get more brave with his PDA, I don’t want to risk forgetting a single moment where he is touching me.

“do you want to walk home?” He doesn’t want to leave, he shouldn’t have to leave because I’m sad that he doesn’t love me.

“no. we should stay, you’re having fun. I’m actually going to go get a drink, maybe it will make me feel better.” He looks at me for a second before letting go of my hip, allowing me to grab a drink.

“”“”“”“”“”

How did I get here?

It’s like one second I was listening to Chris tell a story, and now I’m dancing to some annoying pop song. I need to find Chris, I definitely had a few too many drinks.

I stumbled around for a minute, everything is spinning and making me want to throw up. I don’t know if I can walk all the way home, but I don’t want to make all of them leave early. I grab my phone in an attempt to call Chris, but by the time he picks up I’ve forgotten what I was doing.

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV

I look down at my phone to see that Y/N is calling me, and it makes me a little worried. I pick the phone up to my ear, trying to head over the sounds of music and talking. I don’t hear her, only making me more worried.

She almost never drinks, because she has a very low tolerance. Last time I saw her, she was already three drinks in and proclaiming her love for the song that was on.

That was an hour ago.

I quickly scour the crowd in an attempt to find her face. And when I do my heart drops.

There she is in her skin tight jeans and corset top, looking lost with tears in her eyes. I rush to her side, immediately pulling the drink from her hand. She looks like she’s about to start crying.

“hey baby, can you look at me please?” When I say that she starts crying and she doesn’t seem like she’s stopping any time soon. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to find somewhere quiet so that you can sit down for a minute?” She nods her head aggressively before stumbling towards the bedroom of whoever is hosting.

The Golden Trio

From: Chris

can y’all meet me in the master bedroom, Y/N is really drunk and needs to go home.

From: Nicky Bo Bicky

for sure, I’ll bring some water for her.

I turned to Y/N, she looked out of it. Then all of a sudden life came back to her eyes in the worst way possible. She almost fell down in her attempt to get to the bathroom.

“it’s okay baby” I whispered sweet nothings to her as I held her hair and rubbed her back. Nick and Matt showed up shortly after she finished dry heaving, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink anything as fast as she drank that water.

If I thought it was a hassle trying to get her in the car, I had no clue how hard it would be to get her up a flight of stairs. She giggled as I picked her up bridal style… it made me so happy to hear her laughing.

once she got into more comfortable clothes, she fell asleep in no time.

as she held onto me and nuzzled into my side, my heart shattered. All I want is for her to be happy, but I know that I can’t fix everything. I kiss her on the forehead before rolling over and going to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann

#madi writes things #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 9 months

Text

The Heart of Your Home Pt 3

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in need. What he thought was a simple good deed would take him down a much further path than anticipated.

Warnings: Cursing, eventual canon-typical violence, eventual smut.

Word Count: 4,861

A/N: Knocked this one out quicker than the last chapter...phew!

Your bed felt entirely too large as of late.

A simple routine followed early every morning. Roused awake by the dim rays of dawn peeking through the gossamer curtains of the bedroom shared by you and your husband. You were always the first to rise, shaking sleep from your body as you got dressed and began your work in the kitchen, having a hot breakfast ready by the time the door creaked open a second time.

Since your move to New Hanover, you have often found yourself in your own company. The cold spot of Frederick’s sat empty and unused. His chair sat unmoving, only one plate and a single set of silverware adorned the table.

It was all business, you knew that. Frederick was naturally a man of action. It’s how you were able to live comfortably, convinced employment for yourself was unnecessary, even if it meant frequent boredom in the household.

Boredom, and loneliness.

He assured you plenty that it would lead to bigger and better things; a larger house and plentiful land, and no need for you to lift a finger for household chores. The two of you sitting on a spacious porch, watching a handful of bubbly children play in the expansive yard.

A future you were not opposed to, but at present, you wished your husband was...well, more husbandly.

Frederick was not a horrible man by any means. He showed his love and affection often, and always ensured you had what you requested— a new coat, seeds to start an herb garden, a horse of your own to travel to town when needed since carriages were far and few in between out here.

But when it came to entrepreneurship, it almost seemed as if the band on your finger didn’t matter much.

You sat at your usual seat on the table, once again enjoying an egg and toast breakfast by yourself across from the chair that sat empty for the fifth day in a row, not counting his stop at home just two days prior. What was supposed to be a quick visit to Valentine turned into a week-long affair. He arrived a few hours later as he promised, only to apologetically explain the new turn of events. A week in Annesburg, a mining town in eastern Hanover from what you understood.

The smile on your face was forced, with your bid goodbye and a safe travel. He hadn’t even stayed for dinner.

Come to think of it, the last person to occupy that seat hadn’t been Frederick at all.

A sudden onset of rain pulled you from your thoughts. Surprise flooded you, not even glancing twice at the sky when waking up today, though dully aware of the gray overcast outside of the windows.

Automatically, you glanced up at the spot you knew would start leaking soon, only to remember that issue had been fixed just days ago. Not even a patch of condensation. You smiled, once again grateful for the man who so selflessly offered his time for that very task.

The remainder of your breakfast was spent quietly listening to the downpour outside. You were thankful for the warmth inside, providing a sense of coziness despite the empty feeling that stirred in your belly. The meal satiated you, but it didn’t fill the hole your husband left.

As you began cleaning your plate, a knock on the door startled you. Rarely did you ever expect company, and Frederick wouldn’t knock, he’d just come right in.

Wary, you dried your hands and approached the door slowly. You grasped the knob and opened the door just enough to peer through.

To your delighted surprise, standing there waiting was Arthur.

“Arthur!” you exclaimed with more enthusiasm than you’d realized. Opening the door fully, you greeted him with a smile. As early as it was, you had to remind yourself of the open invitation to your house. “Good morning, what brings you here so early?” you asked.

The tall man stood there in what appeared to be a newer black leather jacket and his normal hat, both covered in beads of rain cascading down the smooth surfaces. He smiled at you politely. “Mornin’. I was headin’ back from West Elizabeth when it started rainin’, thought I’d hide out for a bit since I was in the area. You mind?”

You shook your head. “Of course not, come in,” you stepped aside and gestured. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

His smile turned grateful as he passed through the threshold. “I appreciate it.”

You watched as he hung his jacket and hat, exposing a different wardrobe than what you’d seen him in previous. Usually in simple clothing, he appeared to be wearing something fresh and new. A crimson red shirt with a high folded collar, the top two buttons hung open to reveal his neck and upper chest, a view that was concealed by a scarf previously. His hair had been long and shaggy before, now had a neat short, faded cut and was slicked back.

His pants seemed to be...more form fitting, or was that your imagination?

Arthur’s eyes met yours for a second, and you realized you’d been staring for a beat longer than intended. “Somethin’ wrong? Or is my mug that ugly?”

“You’re not ugly,” you said automatically, your response surprising yourself. You could appreciate a man that cleaned up well. Men like Arthur worked hard, you found, and they didn’t put much stock in their outward appearance. They didn’t have anyone to impress, as they were just trying to make an honest living for themselves and their families.

Truth be told, this change made him look quite good. Not that he was worse off before, but something about this wardrobe change drew more attention to finer features you really hadn’t noticed before.

Though it wasn’t your place to say so.

His face slightly faltered at your comment, which piqued your curiosity. Rather than questioning it, you changed the subject. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“That’d be great,” he said, the smile returning. “Thank you.”

You began to work diligently, grateful for the opportunity to keep your hands busy. Cleaning surfaces only got you so far when you were the only one dirtying them, and you were beyond thankful for the company. Two more eggs were cracked open, and two fresh pieces of bread were placed inside the oven to toast, all the while Arthur sat at the table.

“I take it the roof ain’t leakin’,” he said, catching your attention.

You glanced over your shoulder to shoot him a smile. “Nope, thanks to a certain someone.”

He chuckled lightly. “Glad to know my handiwork didn’t go to waste.”

“Then I know what handyman to contact if something else breaks around here,” you joked.

Arthur gave a half shrug, his amused smile remaining. “As long as I get paid or get another good meal, I’ll be your goddamned handyman for life.”

A giggle passed your lips. You of course knew he was joking, but the thought of him being around more...

Your thought was halted when he spoke again. “Your uh...husband out on business again?” he asked lightly.

You hid your frown by facing the oven again. “As usual,” you answer with equal lightness, though it was feigned.

Arthur grunted in response. A moment of silence passed before he added, “Everything okay here?”

“Fine,” you answered, reaching for your stash of herbs in a nearby cabinet. To your dismay, you found it was empty. Frowning, you closed the cabinet and sighed, “Shoot.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You turned to face Arthur. “I’m out of herbs. I’m afraid your eggs will be a little dull,” you explain, turning back around to attend to the rest of your cooking without waiting for a response.

You heard the chair shift, and just mere seconds passed when he was standing next to you. Glancing over, he was digging through the satchel at his hip. You were about to ask what he was doing when his hand reappeared and he held it out to you, laden with a few sprigs of herbs.

Blinking in confusion, you peered up at him. “Huh?”

He gestured with his head toward the frying eggs, as if it were plainly obvious. “Figured I could spare some.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but from previous encounters, you learned refusing his generosity never worked. Holding out your own hand, he pressed the herbs into your palm. His hand, covered by a leather fingerless glove, felt surprisingly warm for having just stepped in from the cold rain.

“Thank you,” turning to the eggs again, you peered at the herbs briefly. Thyme and oregano, you realized, peering at each individually. The dried leaves crumbled in your palm as you sprinkled them upon the eggs.

How was it that Arthur always seemed to be there when you needed him? Not needed him, you amended to yourself, just needed something in the moment when he happened to be there. Needed saving from a pack of wolves? Arthur was quick with his bullets. Needed a patch job on your leaky roof? Arthur could do that. Needed some herbs to add flavor to your dish? No worries, Arthur had some.

When you felt the pangs of loneliness left by your husband’s ambitions, Arthur showed up...

A small feeling stirred inside you, one that you couldn’t place at first, as heat settled in your cheeks. You recognized the sensation as you’d once felt before in your younger days, before marriage. Recalling those memories of strolling the streets with your friends as they spoke about their potential future husbands. The mere thought of settling down with a man to support and dote on you gave a feeling of excitement and reassurance. It’d been a long time since you felt that, not since your wedding day.

Frederick had proven to be that sort of husband, despite your private grievances about him earlier. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be working as hard as he did to provide a better life for the both of you. What reason did that old feeling arise?

Shaking your head, you turned your focus back to the eggs, removing them from the stove before they had the chance to overcook. The toast followed, and you set both on to a clean plate before bringing it over to Arthur. He dug in almost immediately, a look of satisfaction crossed his face with the first bite.

You didn’t even have to ask if he liked it, because the first thing out of his mouth after swallowing was a compliment.

“Delicious, as always,” he said before shoving another forkful.

You smiled and took your seat again. Arthur’s visits were always pleasant, even when neither of you carried long conversations some of the time. Unlike most of the men you’ve met, Arthur didn’t seem loud and boisterous. You knew he was a man well-traveled and skilled in his ways, which left you somewhat envious of his aptitude.

Curiosity began to bubble in you. There were only a few sparing details you learned, and questions burned in your throat. You decided to speak up. “Arthur, can I ask you something?”

Arthur had been chewing on the toast when his focus settled on you. “Hmm?” he hummed through a mouthful.

“What is it that you do, exactly? I know you seem to travel a bit from what you’ve told me, and I wondered what sort of career calls for a man of your expertise,” you asked in one breath, realizing how nervous you were to even utter that.

Arthur swallowed, a thoughtful look on his face for a split second before he answered. “I go wherever work needs to be done,” he answered. “Stagecoach escort, delivery runs, loan repayment, it changes every day.”

You nodded. That made sense of course. Escorting stagecoaches explained his talent with firearms, knowing that often he would have to protect important people. “And do you have a wife? Family?”

There was a full second before he replied. “No, no wife,” he didn’t acknowledge the second half of your inquiry.

That you found hard to believe. He was kind and caring. Tracking back to your previous thought when observing his appearance, he certainly was easy on the eyes. Time and nature had its effect on him, yet that didn’t hinder his soft gaze and kind smile. How was it there wasn’t a lucky woman to call him her husband?

But you didn’t dare to ask for an elaboration, lest the reason would be something worse than just choosing to remain unwed. “I see,” you say, trying to think of something else. “What were you doing in West Elizabeth then?”

Arthur peered at you, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “I thought I was here for breakfast and decent company, not to be interrogated,” he chuckled.

“Oh!” you glanced down, a blush forming in your cheeks. “I’m sorry, if it bothers you—"

“No harm done,” he interrupted, waving his hand in your peripheral. “I was out there huntin’. Heard the moose are somethin’ else.”

“Hunting,” you repeated thoughtfully, looking back up at him. You’d never seen a live moose before. But from what you understood, they were quite large. “Were you able to find a moose?”

“At first no,” he sighed. “Tracked one for a while, until I jus’ about ran into a damn Grizzly.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. “What? A Grizzly? Are you okay?” Obviously he was, since you didn’t see any sign of injury.

The chuckle returned, and Arthur raised his arms in show. “Fine, fine. In fact, I made decent money off him at the butchers. Went right back to track that moose, found him not too long after. Thankfully the trail didn’t get too cold. Harvested plenty o’ meat from that son of a—” he paused. “Pardon my language.”

That last part made you smile again. Ever the gentleman, you thought to yourself. “Lots of meat, huh? I’ve never had moose meat before...” you thought out loud. “Is it good?”

“Why don’t you find out? Have some for dinner,” he said, once again digging into the satchel. Half a moment passed by before he produced a wrapped package, placing it on the table.

You stared for a moment in surprise, your eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Arthur shrugged. “Plenty more where that came from, I got more than enough for myself.”

A small huff of a laugh passed your lips. This man was certainly full of surprises. “Thank you, guess I will have some for dinner tonight.”

It didn't stop there. Arthur dug further into his bag, producing another handful of herbs. “Might as well replenish your stores along with it,” he said, placing them next to the package of meat.

You recognized an assortment of more thyme and oregano, as well as mint, sage, and a few others that were harder to discern amongst the pile. There was a moment of wonder, was there an end to his generosity? You opened your mouth to speak when his wide yawn caught your eye. It was still early morning, and curiosity burned within you once again.

“How long were you out there?” You voiced your thoughts. “Seems like you had a busy day, and it can’t be past 8 am.”

Arthur stretched, groaning in the effort as his arms raised above his head. He then answered, “Took half the night, I got to Big Valley late afternoon yesterday.”

“Half the night?” You repeated in shock. “Have you even slept?”

He shook his head and shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. “Thought I could tough it out ’til I got home, that is, before the rain started.”

And the rain was still falling, you deduced after glancing out the window behind you. A frown set on your lips as you turned to look at him again. The fatigue in his face was obvious now; dark shadows hung underneath his eyes. “Why don't you take a nap in the guest room?” You gestured toward the closed door off to the side, next to your own bedroom. “It might be a while until the weather lightens.”

Now Arthur was the one protesting. Shaking his head, he waved away your offer. “That ain't necessary, I’ll be fine.”

“After spending an entire night hunting a moose and nearly getting killed by a bear? And riding across state lines?” You sternly pointed out, though kept your tone from being too stony. “I insist. Rest up for a little while, then you can be on your way. I'm sure your horse is as tired as you are,” he didn't have to mention, nor did you have to see his stallion that you very well knew was occupying the empty stall in the barn.

Arthur looked as if he were about to argue, but he paused as he considered your words. “I suppose it couldn't hurt...” he stifled another yawn before clearing the remnants of his meal. You stepped forward and grabbed the plate, once again gesturing to the same door.

“Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

He nodded in response, standing up and heading over. As he passed, you detected the hint of a grateful smile.

---

Within the first hour you’d arranged Arthur’s gifted herbs into piles in your cabinet, noting there were enough to get your by for a week. The moose steak was placed to the side for prep later. The second hour was spent performing your normal chores, deliberately dragging yourself not to finish too quickly. Every so often you glanced at the closed door of your guest room, ensuring the sleeping body behind it was comfortable and not in need of anything else. The only noise was Arthur’s gentle snores from the other side.

By the third hour mark, you’d run out of things to do and took to spending time outside, resting on the rocking chair on the porch. The rain stopped maybe an hour and a half before, and the misty gray skies made way for beautiful blues, the sun warming the soaked land as the wilderness began to stir.

Your eyes fixed on the garden you started a while ago now, having abandoned it since a frost all but eradicated your budding plants. You ought to start again, you thought, hopefully a hardier crop would wield better results. They were the same herbs you’d spotted growing wild out in this climate, and you had to wonder why yours failed.

Not that you minded taking a trip into town for supplies, self-sustenance was something you hoped to achieve down the line, as long as Frederick’s plans came to fruition.

You also hoped it would be somewhere with warmer weather.

You had an urge to visit the barn behind your house. If Arthur was okay, you’d best check up on his horse too. The poor thing had to be as tired as him, after trekking miles of mountains and wilderness. You began to wander over, boots sloshing in the soaked ground. The barn’s faded white paint loomed into view.

Pulling open the door, you stepped inside to be greeted by the two lovely horses who were contently chewing on the same hay pile. You smiled and stepped even closer, rousing their attention as their heads raised to look at you.

“Hello, sweet things,” you say to them, petting your mare first then stroking Arthur’s stallion, who you now realized completely dwarfed your horse.

It was quite cute seeing the two of them side by side. Frederick didn't buy a horse of his own, claiming he didn't know how to ride that well. Ironic, given how much he traveled, but he claimed he was fine with hitching a ride when it was necessary. This, however, left your horse without a companion. You knew they were herd animals, and you felt it wasn’t fair that she was the only one. Even though you couldn’t read her mind, you couldn’t help but think she was just as lonely as you at times.

You were thankful these two got along just as well as you and Arthur did.

There was a pile of carrots placed upon a nearby barrel, and you grabbed a few. Both horses nickered in realization when you approached with tasty snacks. You offered one to your mare first, then the stallion, who took it so gently it was surprising.

“He likes you,”

You jumped at the voice and spun around to see Arthur in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded, watching you with a slight smirk. His jacket and hat were back on.

“Sorry,” he said when he realized he must've startled you.

“That’s okay,” you reply as your heart quieted. How long had he been standing there? When did he wake up? As the stallion’s lips fidgeted against your arm, you continued, “Is he usually this friendly?”

Arthur shook his head. “Naw. He weren't like that when I first got him, tried to buck me off more than once.”

This news surprised you. “Really? I can't imagine that...” your hand idly stroked the fine horse’s velvet nose as he nuzzled you for more carrots.

“Took a few weeks jus’ to get him used to me,” Arthur said. “Now he's one of the most loyal horses I've ever had.”

The statement brought a smile to your face. “Then perhaps you have some competition,” you joked as you reached up to rub the stallion’s ears. His head dropped even further, his brown eyes softening to your touch.

With a chuckle, Arthur sidled up and patted his steed’s neck. “I suppose so...”

Silence fell between the two of you, marveling in the horses’ presence. Not that you minded, Arthur was the only person you felt comfortable being silent around. There was no necessity to fill the void with idle, meaningless conversation. Something about his presence relaxed you, even more so when just bonding with these beautiful creatures.

You watched as he grabbed a carrot, breaking it in half to offer both pieces to each horse. They both took each piece as if they were starving, to which Arthur laughed again. A quiet, gentle laugh that warmed your heart. His eyes softened with each pat he offered, then turning to your mare, he rumbled, “You're a good girl,” with a stroke to her neck.

That made you smile. It seemed that his calming presence also seemed to reach the animals. Your mare’s head sagged and her eyelids drooped.

His eyes met yours, and the eased expression changed to curiosity. “What?”

You blinked, the smile vanishing at an instant with realization you were caught staring again, quite unintentionally. “Uh,” flustered and flicking your eyes down in slight embarrassment, you asked, “I assume you slept well?”

“Like a baby,” he answered with a deep stretch. “Though I guess I better not wear out my welcome.”

These words caused your heart to stutter. The thought of him leaving already didn’t sit right with you, but you couldn’t explain why.

Some irrational part of you almost invited him to stay for dinner. You’d come up with the excuse to experiment the concoction of herbs and moose meat he provided you earlier. But you also knew it seemed absurd to even think this. The man had to go home, to whatever was waiting for him. He mentioned he didn't have a wife, but a man as busy as him must've had other priorities. You remembered him once mentioning he wasn’t looking forward to something at home.

What sort of home life did he lead, exactly?

He was pulling his steed away from the hay pile, and you somehow detected the reluctance in the horse’s eyes. The feeling was mutual, but you had no reason to feel that way.

As Arthur approached the open doors, a question bubbled in your throat. It was oh so tempting to ask, even though you knew it was silly.

“Thank you for breakfast, and allowin’ me to rest,” Arthur said, pausing to tilt his head to you. “Didn’t know exactly how much I needed that.”

You smiled again, finding comfort in the fact that he found refuge with you. “You’re welcome...” just as he and his stallion stepped through the threshold, you called out, “Wait.”

He stopped again, looking toward you expectantly.

You realized you spoke first without thinking. Well, you had to follow through with it. “Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?” you asked, your heart jumping to your throat with each word.

You waited for a refusal, a shake of his head, a scoff. Instead, a thoughtful look crossed his face. “I guess your husband ain’t home for a while?”

“Only for a few more days, but I’ll admit it’s quite lonely...and I’d love to hear more about your adventures, if that’s okay. Everything you’ve told me seems quite intriguing and—” you stopped yourself short, realizing you were rambling. Taking a second to recollect yourself, you added, “Only if you want to.”

To your surprise, Arthur frowned. “I hope I ain’t leavin’ the wrong impression on you, wantin’ my company when it’s only convenient for—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly. “Arthur, I thought you better of me! I was the one who established that anyway,” you reminded him, giving a weak laugh hoping to pass this conversation as humor. “Think of it as a pleasant dinner between friends.”

He stared for a long moment, contemplating your words. “Friends,” he repeated, his stance shifting a little. Did he look...uncomfortable? “I ain’t the sort you’d want as a friend.”

“Why, because I’m a married woman spending time with a man other than my husband?” you questioned, placing your hands on your hips. “You are my friend, Arthur. You’re certainly no stranger at this point. You’ve helped me plenty of times even though you didn’t need to, and I’ve helped you too. I'd be happy to serve you a plate or have an empty bed ready anytime you arrive at my doorstep. I’m sure Frederick would love to meet you too, when you’re not up on our rooftop.”

Arthur was silent again. His hat hid most of his expression, but you could see the frown still slightly etched against his lips. His head tilted up so he could peer at you from under the brim. With a small, humorless chuckle, he asked, “Is it really that important to you?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Yes,” you said bluntly. “You saved my life. That put me in a debt I can never repay, but I try where I can. You’re the only person who’s extended me any kindness out here, and I won’t take that for granted.”

With a sigh heaving his chest, Arthur quietly responded, “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

Feeling triumphant, you smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you for understanding,” your gaze drifted to the outside. “I’m sorry for holding you up.”

He made his familiar gesture to wave off your apology. “Nothin’ to worry about, I’ll get home all the same,” Making his way fully out into the open, he mounted his stallion with ease. He glanced up at the now clear sky and into the woods, before settling his gaze to you. “Thank you for earlier, really. I appreciate it.”

The smile on your face widened. “Any time, Arthur. I truly mean that,” you reminded him.

He nodded in understanding, his lip slightly twitching into a half-smile. It was a short goodbye before he trotted off, his figure soon swallowed up by the trees. Your mare let out a soft whinny at his departure, to which you came to her side and patted her neck.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they’ll be back soon enough,” you said to her soothingly, but you had to wonder if the reassurance wasn’t only for her.

Arthur’s presence, while still fairly new, has had a significant impact on your life thus far. Your stomach churned, partly due to his absence, and partly due to anxiety of the previous conversation. You hoped your most recent invitation hadn’t scared him off. Your words to him rang true; you’d be perfectly happy repaying your debt until you were old and brittle.

But it wasn’t just that. How was it that you were so comfortable with him around? Surely in a more civilized state, rumors would spread like wildfire. A married woman so eagerly welcoming an unwed man into her home to frequently would earn you looks of spite and venomous whispers in the crowd. But this was not your home back east, and you were no longer part of that society.

Arthur was your friend, that you were certain of. He instilled an air of peace and safety in his wake but stirred feelings of excitement with a life so unlike your own. You wanted to learn more, to hear of those tales that once seemed so far-fetched to you. If you could hear them every day, you would.

And so, you were in for a pleasant surprise when he appeared that following day in the late afternoon, waiting patiently on your porch when you opened the door.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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anystalker707 · 1 year

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Forgotten screens and messy covers

Pairing: Gerard x [gender neutral, afab] Reader Word count: ~ 2 200 Genre: Smut / Comfort Summary: A boring movie leads to interesting actions. Kind of content: Pegging / Dirty talk / Praising / Humiliation

Requested by anon "can you do a fic where reader and basement gee are watching a movie and then one thing leads to another and they fuck?? i want reader to (...)"

MASTERLIST

Gerard came over to your place easily after an offer of a horror movie with candies and leftover pizza. It really didn’t take a lot to please any of you, really—you would’ve accepted the offer too if he were the one making it—because the most important thing was each other’s presence, after all. Some weekends were about asking the other over so you could continue to do nothing for the rest of the day, but with the other.

Jaws had been playing on the TV for quite a while now. You’d watched it so many times that the movie would already glitch; the DVD already showing its signs of age and the player wasn’t the best thing already by itself. Your eyes squinted at the TV on a scene of Martin fussing around—the screen was still frozen on the sea while his voice kept playing in the background, the faint blue light of the TV being the only thing illuminating your room at the moment. Boredom quickly started to take over; eyes darting away from the screen and heavy sighs cutting through the silence as you both sat under the covers.

You looked over at Gerard, seeing they were pouting a little while still looking at the screen with a little of hope, and your mind started to wander easily enough because... Why not? It was a matter of seconds before your lips met Gerard’s. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that—you and Gerard were more than friends, but still a little far from having anything established. It was enough to play around, though.

Gerard gasped softly, but did kiss back, finally finding something more entertaining than the glitching TV screen. He placed a hand on the back of your head to pull you closer, and you allowed them to, deepening the kiss as they wished.

Maybe, the kisses were never innocent. Maybe, they had a goal behind them the whole moment, but it still wasn’t something to be discussed. Gerard only kept kissing you back until the light kisses gained a new urgency that magnified their intensity and it was a matter of time before you were throwing the blankets out of the way and climbing between Gerard’s legs while you kept kissing them. The kisses would remain on that level if you didn’t feel something poking your lower stomach at the same time a soft sound escaped Gerard’s lips when you pushed your hips against his; the way they tugged on you with their arms around your back didn’t seem like he wanted you to stop either.

A moan escaped Gerard’s throat when your teeth ran against his bottom lip and, soon, he grasped on the hair on the back of your head to guide you down to their neck, leaving them squirming and moaning more under your lips. You knew the right spots, the right thing you had to do, so it wasn’t much of a hard task.

“Please,” Gerard said with a groan, voice tight in their chest.

Who were you to deny it to them? But it also didn’t mean you wouldn’t tease.

“Please what?” You grinned, nuzzling a spot under his jaw and mumbling against the skin. Gerard only pushed his hips up in response; you clicked your tongue. “Use your words or else I won’t know.”

Gerard’s throat moved under your touch with a harsh swallow, then vibrated with his curses. “Touch me. Anything. Anything works.” Something about how he was always so shy about it made a feeling stir inside your lower stomach; he would never meet your eyes, mostly keeping their eyes closed and would have their face hidden if you allowed.

A pleased smile stretched across your face at the same moment the proud feeling swelled inside your chest and you pulled to sit back on your legs, letting Gerard’s bottom over your lap. They already had his hair all messy, or messier than usual, better saying. Hazel eyes observed you past greasy dark strands of hair and his face was red, almost as brightly as his swollen lips. Heavy breaths escaped Gerard’s lips as his chest heaved up and down, coming to a halt when your hand landed right on the bulge between his legs.

“(Y/n),” he said breathly as his hands balled into fists around the blankets.

“Shhh...”

Fingers hooked around the waistband of their pants, you slowly pulled them down along with his underwear and smiled at the sight. His cock arched back against his lower stomach heavily, bright pink and with precum oozing from the tip already, and you wondered how sensitive he felt that day.

Your hands wrapped around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight in your hand for a moment before you started pumping it up and down—you leaned forward to spit down on the tip and let it trail down as a makeshift lube, which seemed to work quite well given how Gerard’s back arched.

“Goddamnit, Gerard...” You clicked your tongue in a not-so-genuine annoyance. “Look at you. So needy already and all I did was to barely touch you.” In response, they tried to stutter out a few curses, failing miserably, only working to make you chuckle. “Sensitive today, are we?” You sank your finger in their tip in a search for a response by yourself, and it was easy to find out given out he moaned loudly and arched their back, all a little more than the normal. “All pretty and just for me!”

The words had each touch intensified for Gerard, only making his want grow as you kept working your hand and spat down on your fingers once again, moving faster. You mumbled absentmindedly about how pretty he looked while you let your finger brush against that spot they liked under the tip of their cock. His face was mostly hidden by the messy hair, but there was just enough to know how much they enjoyed all of it. Gerard’s needy nature was something that you relished on.

A few gasps and the right twists of your wrist later, he was already cumming and the drops that escaped your fingers fell over his black shirt and stained yet another one of those.

Gerard still throbbed in your hand and his breaths were still ragged, but your hand continued there, using his own cum as lube so you could continue your motions, barely leaving time for his cock to soften before it was hard in your hand again and Gerard squirmed under you.

“W—Wait—” Gerard said almost incoherently, swallowing his words. The absence of the safeword and the way their hips pushed against your hand only encouraged you to keep going, your sloppy movements making their thighs tremble and threaten to close around you. Something that sounded like your name escaped his lips whiningly, and you finally stopped, watching Gerard arch their back and pant heavily whilst trying to grasp reality once again.

Just watching Gerard was enough to build something in you. You bit your lip, observing them with wide eyes and processing his little mannerisms before you climbed to the edge of the bed and reached for something under it.

“What you doing...” Gerard’s voice was almost nothing beyond a lousy whisper.

You glanced back at him, also moving to reach for something from the bedside table after you retrieved a box from under the bed. A smirk crossed your face and you almost chuckled from the excitement. “Pants and underwear off, hm?”

Just a few words without much context were enough for Gerard to know what was going on. Their eyes widened a little, but there was excitement behind his dark gaze when he quickly moved to do as said. They had the same rush you had while you got rid of your own clothes, messing a little with the strap-on due to the anticipation, but you already had it in by the time Gerard’s boxers were meeting the ground.

“All fours.” You had the lube in hand already when you were climbing back on the bed and kneeling your way over to between Gerard’s legs once he’d done what you asked for. He glanced back at you, seeming like they were about to say something, but their breath was wasted in a soft gasp when your hand met the back of his head to shove it against the pillow. “Being a good boy for me today, aren’t you? ‘Bet you were already anxious for a fuck once you left your house to come here,” you couldn’t help the words as you held onto his hips, not even bothering to know what his groans were about while you opened the lube.

The cold liquid met Gerard’s entrance and had him fluttering more than before, clenching around nothing in a silent request for something that you’d not give him yet, but it was enough to have them gasping against the pillow while the liquid trailed down to his balls and his cock. You observed him carefully, coating your fingers with the lube as well before you could dip two of them past the muscles of rings around their entrance.

Little resistance met you along with Gerard’s moans, your fingers welcomed by warm and wet walls that relaxed according to how you pushed in slowly until the last knuckle then clenched once you started to make the way back. Since Gerard was already sensitive, you didn’t use a lot of time in it, only making sure he was lubed properly before you coated the strap-on’s dildo with the lube as well.

“Ready?” One of your hands grasped onto Gerard’s hip and the other onto the base of the dildo while you looked over at them. The anticipation burned in your lower stomach, hopefully mirroring what they felt.

Only a groan came in response at first, followed by a muffled ‘yes’, then there were moans; Gerard already gasped just at the intrusion of the tip of the toy, pushing himself back at the same proportion you pushed into them. You let out a soft sound at how the back of the toy made a light pressure against your clit the moment your thighs met the back of theirs and the space between you two was closed. His skin was warm, rising under yours with a shiver when you rode his shirt far up his torso so you’d hold onto both of his hips now.

Gerard’s arms were folded in front of themself as he groaned softly, their sounds gaining a rhythm dictated by how your hips met his, first in experimental heavy and slow thrusts that soon gained a proper pace. You couldn’t help but moan softly as well whenever any motion had the right pressure over your clit, but even so, your own pleasure wasn’t the focus at the moment; you just wanted to please Gerard, each time more encouraged by how his moans would easily grew louder whenever your hips would meet theirs when he pushed them back and the toy pressed just against his prostate.

“P—Please...” You could catch the word among all the nonsense that Gerard spoke, motivating you to keep the rhythm that had the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room already.

Gerard’s hair was tangled in your fingers when you bent down while pausing your movements so you could bring their head up a little, whispering into his ear. “Please what?”

A whimper came from him, hips wriggling in an attempt to get you to move again. “M—More... ‘M almost there...” His dark, hazy orbs met yours from the corners of his eyes and you chuckled.

“There you go.”

Your hand held Gerard’s head down against the pillow, sideways, and the other held onto their hip to make a firm frame which you could fuck into, snapping your hips harshly to help Gerard reach their high.

“You look cute like this,” you mumbled breathlessly, voice shaking. “Being so good to me... You just like being a little slut to me, right? Coming to my house when none of us have anything to do just so I can fuck that pretty little ass of yours until I am satisfied...” The words spilled from your lips as easily as the moans left him, in a gentle rambling that had the knot in Gerard’s lower stomach growing tighter to the same point you could feel the want rushing through your veins. You wanted some touch, any sort of touch, but your focus was Gerard now.

Gerard gave up on pleading for anything, instead resorting to whines that sounded like music to your ears. Thankfully, it was a sign they were growing closer; your thighs and knees already burned with ache from the restrictive and repetitive motion, which got you more invested into the harsh and precise thrusts that had Gerard quivering and trembling under your touch.

It was a matter of time—one, two thrusts and Gerard was cumming, with a string of whiny moans and trembling legs while they stained your covers. His knuckles went white as their fingers wrapped around the pillow they held onto until his grip started to falter and your thrusts started to drive him into overstimulation; you decided not to go that path and instead stopped your movements slowly, pulling back away from Gerard. He complained a little at the absence of a body against his, but easily gave up against the mattress once you knelt away, sitting down on the bed so you could remove the strap-on and give your legs a break. Your hands trembled as you tried to do it fast so you could satisfy your own want as fast as possible.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

#my chemical romance #gerard way #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #nonbinary #transmasc #gender neutral #mcr x reader #gerard way x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #oneshot #imagine #writing #my chemical romance x reader #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way

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mushroomwoods · 11 months

Text

like fallen leaves

they fell and left him behind, for he knew that no amount of time would ever be enough for him or you to remain.

character — Time, romantic.

cw — hurt/no comfort, (sort of) soulmate!au, death.

i feel like I turned into a dark content creator at this point, sigh. it wasn't beta read and my mind was a mess while i wrote this so... read at your own discretion.

It was natural. He was used to it. The chosen one was bound to thread it's path alone.

It was natural.

Yet it didn't hurt any less.

It felt like he was but a tool, used for others wellbeing and discarded when not needed.

A life in which only meaning was to live for another.

He helped those in need, but never got an ounce of recognition, he said to himself that it wasn't needed, yet the moment you smiled at him, offering to help him — worthless, useless him — he felt like it was the only sliver of hope he ever needed in his life.

It felt natural.

To be drawn to you, to seek you among the ever so busy city, to wave back when you would look back at him with a smile of your own.

But as all things in his life, they would forget, they would soon enough not even remember the young kid who saved their lives by defeating the moon. It was but his job.

Even as years passed, he knew he would be the only one to remember, after all, if not him that had gone through such horrors many and many and many and many times... who else would?

And he wasn't surprised when you didn't recognize him either, but somehow, he noticed a slip, the way your eyes softened, the sympathy in your voice... the fear for something you couldn't even remember that happened.

It was just a slip.

The memories may be forgotten, reseted, but one's experiences will never be. Your body remembered what had happened so long ago, if not, why else would you dream of it so many times?

For the first time, he pitied someone else.

The only one to ever try to help him, was the also one to remain with such shackles binding them together.

Maybe it was the curse that followed him.

But it made him oh so happy. He could only think about how it was a sign of the goddess about how the both of you were destined to be together, how no matter what, you wouldn't run from him.

How you were meant to be.

But soon your empathy turned into apathy, no human being would ever be able to stand this type of torture without trouble like he did, maybe he really wasn't meant to live among them, he wasn't natural.

The first sliver of hope he ever had slipped through his fingers no matter how much he tried to grasp it.

He didn't want it, please, don't leave, even though he knew how weirded out you'd be, he wanted to get on his knees and beg and cry for you not to leave him behind too.

It wouldn't be bearable. He could fight thousands of other moons, suns or even demons, it didn't matter, as long as you, stayed by his side.

Yet it was to no avail, you were distant before he could even try, it was no surprise how your usually cheerful smiles were closed off from the world.

It was no surprise how it all ended.

His last image of you was up at the clock tower.

Your eyes, sunken and dark from the tiredness, cast upon the sky, lifeless.

“I'm sorry, Link... I can't take it anymore.” Your voice was rough, he wondered when was the last time he saw you talking to anyone. “Please don't stop me.” You walked to the edge.

And he didn't.

#fungi's delicacies #time x reader #linked universe #linked universe time #lu time #linked universe x reader

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discotenny · 7 months

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Pessimistic Doppo, hurt/comfort question mark question mark???

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Doppo finds it a struggle to get through the day sometimes. Just the smallest moments can push him over the brink to consider the whole week a curse from the heavens.

He likes to play a game with himself to see if he can predict the exact moment his day turns sour.

Maybe it’ll be the sway of the train jolting him a little too forward, causing his plastic water bottle to fall from his hand and roll across the crowded car. Or when the rain making dirty puddles only on sidewalks he has to cross on his commute.

Perhaps it’s the way his ears manage to catch parts of strangers’ conversations his wayward mind can attribute to horrible news or gossip. Maybe it’s how his suit smells too strongly of detergent- making his skin burn with every stride to his step.

Sometimes it’s not even an event that ruins his day. Sometimes it’s just himself.

Like his thoughts going haywire, possible what ifs flooding his mind that make him want to shut himself in his room and cry. Or the mumbles that seem to get more uncontrollable the longer they let on- unable to be silenced due to just how good it feels to speak his tired mind. Sometimes he can just tell that the day isn’t going to be good.

No matter what form the gods choose to torture himself with, the result is always the same.

A ruined day, and a night set to be even worse as he ruminates over everything that caused his fall.

At least, that’s what he would choose to do with his nights if he had a say on the matter.

If you didn’t greet him at the door and take his bag, moving out the way so Hifumi could wave hello and goodbye as he makes his way out to his own work he would be rotting in bed. If you didn’t offer him a dinner that makes his neglected stomach growl, aching for the comfort and fullness a warm meal brings he would be hungry till morning. If you didn’t talk to him during your meal, chatting about your day, he wouldn’t be distracted from all that weighed him down.

You offer him a chance to talk and it’s hard for him not to go into rambles about the misfortune of his day.

You giggle at his lost water bottle, saying that you’ll pack him an extra in his lunch bag just in case from now on. You frown at his wet socks, making him change out of them immediately lest he get sick.

Doppo wonders if you’re saying such things just to fill space. He wonders if you really mean all that you say, if your care is as genuine as it seems to be.

You tell him not to worry about the out of context clips from conversations of strangers, telling Doppo to imagine the concern if someone overheard even a fraction of your conversations with him. You apologize for his dress shirt, saying that you were a little heavy handed pouring the detergent in the apartment machine.

As you talk him through his rambles, listening to his plights, Doppo starts to feel the small moments that pushed him over leave his mind- your voice bringing him back from the edge he seems to always find himself at.

Its not the first time your company has had such an alluring affect on him- and the two of you know it’s definitely not going to be the last.

Your hand makes it’s away across the table, holding his in a firm grasp. The smile on your face tells him that everything’s going to be alright. Because tomorrow is a new day.

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Been dealing with sm stuff but writing it out always makes me feel better aherbdkrnek. Thank you for reading <3

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic x reader #hypnosis microphone x reader #hypnosis mic x reader #doppo kannonzaka x reader #doppo kannonzaka #doppo x reader #hypmic x reader headcanons #hypmic x reader fluff #hypnosis mic x reader headcanons #hypnosis microphone scenarios #hypnosis microphone x reader headcanons #hypnosis microphone fluff #hypmic doppo

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herenya-writes · 8 months

Text

I don't know what this is. All I know is my brain wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote this. So enjoy, I guess. Warning: character death

I couldn’t read the runes inscribed on the edge of the basin like my lady could, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t hard to guess what they said. Reaching this grove among the frozen peaks had been a difficult journey, but that wouldn’t be trial enough. Not for the prize that my lady sought.

I knelt on the thick green grass and held my dagger aloft in front of me. When my lady turned, her eyes were desperate in a way I had never seen. I smiled at her, but her mouth twisted.

“You knew,” she accused, her voice thick with tears.

I could only bow my head. “The gods would never part with such power without demanding a sacrifice.”

She took a step forward, and I kept my head bowed until gentle fingers urged my chin up. I met her eyes and wished I could draw out the pain I saw there. She was silent for several heartbeats, her eyes searching mine. “The gods do not deserve your blood,” she whispered, smoothing her thumb across my jaw.

“I am not giving it to them.” I pressed my dagger into my lady’s empty hand. “My life already belongs to you.”

A quiet, pained sound slipped from my lady’s lips, and the fingers under my chin tightened. “How can you ask me to throw such a gift away? After all we have been through together, with all we still need to do? How can you ask me to do this alone?” The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell now, hot and fast down her cheeks.

I rose from my kneeling position, pulling a small cloth from my belt as I did. I raised it slowly, giving my lady time to back away, but she didn’t move except to slide her hand from my chin to grasp the back of my neck. I dabbed away the tears as gently as I could.

“It has always been my blessed duty to bleed in your stead,” I whispered, holding my lady’s gaze. I had never doubted my place at her side, and every scar I had earned in her service was a reminder of how precious that which I protected was. No one so kind, so noble, so strong had ever walked the earth before her feet touched it, and I doubted a person like her would be seen again. “I have been your sword and your shield. Please, let me be this as well.”

A tremor shook my lady as emotions warred on her face. Silently, I cursed the gods for forcing her to feel such pain on top of all she had already lost even as I cursed myself for causing it. It was the only way, but I selfishly wished to shield her from all harm and sadness.

The silence stretched, and when my lady did not move for several minutes, I dared to overstep, and wrapped my hand around the one that held my dagger. Her skin was smooth under my rough calluses, and I prayed they did not chafe her too much as I led her to the basin and knelt on the raised stone there. I felt my lady shake with a silent sob, and I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand in a pale shadow of her gentle caress.

I wished I was a softer creature, someone who could offer her true comfort. This was all I had to give.

“The trek down the mountain will be easier than the ascent was, but you will need to watch for avalanches still. When you reach the treeline, head west. There are rumors of a bandit party in the forest there, but it’s safer than the main road. Move by night if you can, and you should reach the city within a week. You will be safe to master your new strength there.”

A watery smile spread across my lady’s face, and she shook her head. “My protector even after death. I have never deserved you.”

Disbelief surged through me along with a sudden urgency. I leaned forward, once more impertinently thrusting myself into my lady’s space, and seized her eyes with mine. “If all good things laid themselves at your feet, it would not be even a portion of what you deserve,” I declared. I was not a good thing. I was a blood-stained, broken thing that had been given a chance to put my dark skills to a brighter purpose. I was the unworthy one.

My lady shook her head again, tears falling once more. In her eyes, I read the truth: her soul was too kind to take the gift I offered on her own, even to save our people.

“Forgive me, my lady,” I said, and tightened my blood-soaked hand around hers. I leaned as far over the basin as I could, bowing my head. I heard my lady stifle a sob as she shifted to stand behind me. Good, less of my blood would stain her there. “This will be messy. You will need to hold my head over the basin as I bleed.”

My lady swallowed loudly. “I understand,” she said, and I couldn’t help but feel pride at how level her voice was. She was stronger than she knew.

“Thank you for giving me the honor of serving you.”

I could not see her face, but I felt the kiss she placed atop my head. “The honor has been mine.”

There was nothing else to say. It was time for my lady to claim the power that was rightfully hers.

I raised her hand and the dagger to my throat, placing the tip under my ear. The cold steel bit into my skin and I felt my blood begin to well. I breathed in, the soft smell of my lady enveloping me. I held onto that familiar scent for one heartbeat, two, then slashed the blade across my throat.

#herenya writes #i don't know what to tag this #original characters #listen i just like the idea of someone being all too willing to give their life away to their liege #to not only be a sacrifice #but to bleed by their liege's own hand #okay to reblog

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simple-seranade · 2 years

Text

Achilles Come Down

Jimmy walks into the Double Life series expecting and hoping it will be his last.

Of course, the universe has never let him get what he wants, so why should this time be different?

(Though maybe, just maybe, he can forgive the universe just this once, now that he has another day to do so.)

OK SO LOTS OF TRIGGERS HERE

TW: suicidal thoughts, near suicide attempt, self harm, MAJOR self-hate and self deprecation, dissociation, death. this is a heavy one, guys

DISCLAIMER: this is about the characters, not the CCs. I am fully aware that all the jokes are in good fun and that Jimmy is fine with it. I just wanted to make c!Jimmy sad and then give him comfort.

that being said, enjoy 6k words of ranchers hurt/comfort!

———*———

Jimmy knows the feeling of death.

The temporary jolt of the infinite respawn, the burning phantom pain of losing a life, the cold grasp of the Void permeating down to the bone and leeching every living spark in your body as you die for the final time- he’s felt it all, more than once, more than most ever have or will or should. He’d say he regards death as a good friend, if it weren’t for the fact that he was fighting it with every fiber of his being in that space below life, where there was nothing but pure nothingness in every direction, surrounding him, choking the air out of his lungs while his heart didn’t beat in his chest and his blood didn’t course through his veins-

Not the point. That’s not the point.

The point is, Jimmy is familiar with death. He’s spent more time dead than some of the new players have spent alive.

The point is, each time he’s yanked back to the realm of the living from the endless darkness, he’s met with teasing ridicule towards his downfall, mocking laughs directed at his hopes that things would be different.

The point is, Jimmy doesn’t think he can do this anymore.

A circlet burning upon a sacrificial altar, offering up his soul to one that didn’t exist, didn’t care, didn’t bless. An arrow through the chest, leaving the person he cared about alone. A fireball hitting him and setting every inch of him aflame, because his life wasn’t hell enough, he had to actually die in it. Shattered bones from the cold, unforgiving dirt as his brother hit him off of a building.

Those were just the permanent deaths. That doesn’t count for the countless burning pains and scars that are only there as a tapestry to his failure. That doesn’t count for all the times he’s picked a fight he couldn’t win and died more from the embarrassment than the actual pain. That doesn’t count the agony that was stopping the void from disintegrating him piece by piece as he waited for the others to die in the games, all alone and isolated, because right then Death only had one focus and one alone, one meal to dine upon. That doesn’t count for the thousand little deaths he feels he’s died each day as they joke about poor Tim, worthless Tim, cursed Tim, always Timmy, never Jimmy-

He’s tired. He’s sick and he’s tired and he’s done.

He’s been done for a while, actually. A few too many careless deaths that may have not been so careless, no matter how many times he respawned. A few hearts gone not by fall or mob, but by human sword, his own or others. A few times where all he can do is sob and yank on his hair as a million words and thoughts run through his head, all the laughter just too loud, please, anyone, make it stop-

He sort of blames the others, even though he tries not to. After all, what right does he have to be mad at them when he’s the one screwing up?

A much larger part of him wonders what right they have to laugh at him, to kick him while he’s down, because they’re his best friends, his brother, they should be able to tell but they’re too busy in their own stupid heads.

He doesn’t tell them, no matter how many times they mock him. It’s in good fun, he knows. They don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t realize they’re big contributors to the growing ache in his chest.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make him love them any less either.

So, when he gets a letter from his brother, he reads it as he always does. Grian’s invited him to another life series, one with a surprise twist Jimmy barely thinks to ponder on as he reads the rest of the information.

It still has the life system, still will be treated as a hardcore world. It will still have the permadeath mechanic, at least while the game continues.

The night he receives the invitation is the night he makes the plan. He barely realizes he’s doing it until all the steps are laid nearly out in front of him in a way he can’t refuse. It’s simple, foolproof.

Step one: Die.

Find some mobs too early on and try to fight them, purposefully plant a trap that will blow up in his face, accidentally miss his MLG water save, antagonize the red lives assuming he doesn’t reach that status first, fall in lava, let a warden’s scream shatter him- there’s no shortage of ways to accomplish it. Whatever it takes to run through all three lives (or whatever number Grian gives them this time around).

Step Two: Let the void take him.

Players aren’t really meant to permadie. The void eats them slowly, relishing in every dissipated particle and line of code. There’s plenty of time to grasp at the strands of life available, and respawns rarely take more than a few seconds, let alone enough time for a player to be fully consumed. Single player hardcore worlds will send the player back to the Hub after only half a minute, barely any void attached, and multiplayer hardcore servers usually do the same, or at least grant the mercy of spectator mode to allow those fallen to observe their friends.

The Life series were… different.

When he had died for the final time in Third Life, he expected to be in the void for only a few moments before the Spectate button would appear and he would watch the world continue as a ghost of his former self. He sat in the void for five seconds.

Then ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

An hour.

A day.

A week.

All with the void attempting to destroy the very essence of his being, all while using every bit of strength to stop the deterioration before someone else joined him. Then it lessened, and by the time the majority of the players joined him, it was barely noticeable.

Grian apologized profusely after the game. He said he didn’t know what happened- at least, he told everyone else that. To Jimmy and Martyn, he confided the real reason the void was the way it was, why the first to fall came so close to actually dying.

If Jimmy ever sees a Watcher, he’s going to punch them in the face.

His brother thought he had fixed it the second game. The others were told of the dangers, all accepting that it could happen. Jimmy trusted his older brother. Then Jimmy fell back into the void, at least this time prepared to fight tooth and nail against the pull of nothingness.

It only stood to reason that it would happen again. That the Watchers would make it so Jimmy would have to use any energy he had left to survive, all for their amusement.

Unfortunately for them, Jimmy doesn’t plan on fighting it.

Then he will get rest.

Then he will be free from all the laughs and jokes at his expense.

No more Timmy.

No more Jimmy.

As he stands in the circle with the others, waiting on the edge of their podiums for Grian to explain the world, a sense of calm he’s rarely felt during these washes over him. After all, he knows how this will end for him. There’s no question as to if he’ll be the first to go, because he will.

And he will relish in it, before finally being no more.

Grian claps his hands, pulling Jimmy out of the fathoms of his thoughts. “Alright, guys, thank you for joining us in a third go around of the Life Series! Welcome to Double Life, as you all saw on your invites. Now, as you also saw, there’s a surprise mechanic this time around!”

“Is it called ‘Scar keeps his shirt on’? We haven’t seen that one yet!” Ren calls out, causing laughter to spread amongst the group. Jimmy joins them, though the sound seems odd in his ears. Heavy.

“Unfortunately, Ren, I haven’t figured out how to code that, otherwise I would in a heartbeat.” Grian replies, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. Scar simply sticks his tongue out at the shorter man. “No, the surprise mechanic is…. imaginary drumroll… soulmates!”

Jimmy’s world crashes out from under him, the supports holding him up weathering under the force of a thousand invisible unchangeable years of pain.

Questions he can barely understand swell in the air, Grian barely managing to bring them to a quiet lull to answer them. “Soulmates will be randomly assigned here in a few minutes. You both will share a health bar- when one of you takes damage, so will the other, and when one of you dies, so will your soulmate. We have a few rules to stop anything from going wrong with the code-“

The rest of the words are a blur in Jimmy’s mind. The people scatter, awaiting the timer to tick down and attach their heart to another. Jimmy does too, with footsteps not his own, in a direction he doesn’t choose, all while a heart beats that soon won’t be only his.

This- this couldn’t be happening. He was going to be done. He was going to get to be free from the hell that had become his life.

He bites back a scream and kicks a nearby tree, feeling a shot of pain race up his foot. It throbs for a moment, but it’s a welcome distraction from the anger in his head at Grian, at the world, at everyone, because why can’t he just-

Your Soulmate Is…

???

Jimmy blinks the green letters out of his vision, only to be hit by a strong sense of vertigo for a split second. His vision swims, and his heart beats almost painfully in his chest.

He’s been linked.

It’s too late now.

Any sense of peace from earlier is gone, replaced by a rising sensation of dread. He can’t do this again. He can’t do this again.

Because now he’ll be dooming someone else when he dies. Now the void won’t try to feast upon him alone, and he won’t get the sweet release of his code being torn from the universe because everyone on this server likes to play the fucking hero and won’t let him.

It’s fine. It’s fine, everything is fine. He- he’ll figure it out. Maybe this will be a good thing, maybe his soulmate will have some sort of astounding luck to counteract whatever the hell the universe is doing to him.

The excuse doesn’t sound genuine, even to his own thoughts.

Ok. He can do this. Just- gather materials. Play the game. He’s done it before, he’s good at it, no matter what everyone else says.

So he does. He gathers wood, explores the world, even stumbles upon a cave. There’s a startling lack of iron inside, but at least he’s getting some stone.

He’s smelting a few of the scraps of iron he’s found when a flash of green catches his eye in the distance, only illuminated by the torches he’s already placed down. The green turns into a shape, the shape turns into a figure, the figure turns into someone he still doesn’t know whether to regard as foe or friend.

“Oi! Jimmy!” Joel calls out, and thankfully the part of Jimmy that wants to slam his head into the stone in front of him gives way to the part that gives a practiced grin. He can see the glinting of iron armor the man dons, even in the low light, as well as the food in the man’s hand.

“Joel! Any chance you can spare some salmon?”

The man immediately shakes his head. “Uh, no. I need it, I’m low on food.”

“Fair- I was wondering who was taking all the iron, guess that’s solved now!”

Joel has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, mate. Don’t want my soulmate hating me right out the gate, yknow?”

“Yeah, that checks out.” Jimmy turns back to his furnace for a second to check on the iron he’s smelting, only to feel a jolt of pain in his shoulder. “Ouch! What-“

Joel punches him in the shoulder again, laughing. “Shush, Tim, I’m gonna make your soulmate annoyed at you!”

Frustration flares somewhere deep in Jimmy as he dodges the next swing. “How did you know it wasn’t me and you? It coulda been me and you!”

The other man just shrugs, landing on more punch on Jimmy’s now sore shoulder. “Dunno, just had a feeling.”

Don’t get mad, Jimmy, don’t get mad. He’s just… being Joel. “Well, we passed the test, so it seems like we aren’t together this go-around.”

The flames of the furnace cast a warm glow on Joel’s face as he puts some food in it. “Yeah… I prayed that it wasn’t, so…”

Jimmy wishes he could say it didn’t hurt. That after all this time he’d become desensitized to the comments, that he was able to shrug it off like any other person would be able to.

Then again, the universe doesn’t seem to be in the business of granting Jimmy’s wishes.

He should just stay quiet. He should laugh it off, move on, do what he always does, because Joel doesn’t mean any harm. He knows he doesn’t.

But a small part of him questions. It asks, just this once, if it really is a joke. If Joel really has meant it all this time, if the effect his words have had on Jimmy are justified. The larger part of him that knows it’s a joke longs for… something. Just some kind of confirmation that Jimmy is just overreacting, for Joel to look him in the eyes and say he was only kidding.

The words escape his lips before he can even think about them.

“You… prayed you wouldn’t be paired with me…?”

Look at me, Joel. Look at me. Look at me look at me loOK AT ME-

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t even tear his gaze away from the furnace.

Everything is clouded in a haze of raging emotions as he listens to Joel talk about the mineshaft, following blindly behind.

The question was stupid. It was utterly, undeniably idiotic, just like Jimmy himself, because now he only longs more for the thing he can’t have. He’s angry at so many of things- Joel, Grian, the universe, himself, void he’s mad at himself-

Even the rush of finding the amethyst cave isn’t enough to clear his head, all the voices around him seeming muddy and loud enough to make him want to slam his hands over his ears. The singing of the crystals, the laughs of his friends as they remembered the last game (remembered the group they kicked him from, the times they turned him away because he’s just useless Tim), all enough to make him grateful for the peaceful quiet of the surface world as he lugs himself out of the cave, iron armor weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Well, it’s not totally quiet- this is a server with his friends. Quiet doesn’t exist with them, especially with the musical calls of the goat horns ringing across the server, the faint laughs of his friends not far behind.

(He still calls them that. He calls them his friends and he hates it because they shouldn’t be, not when they make him hurt like this, but even now he can’t say he hates them. He should, but he can’t, and it makes it all the more infuriating.)

He needs to focus on something. He can’t just sit around wallowing in his own self pity, not when his soulmate is out there. They’re going to find each other eventually, and all he can hope for is someone who will at least be happy with him if he’s useful, which means he needs more materials.

… those goat horns do sound pretty cool, though.

It takes some coaxing, getting the goat to start charging him atop the mountain. Of course the only one reluctant to try to attack him is the one he needs to. That’s just how his luck is going.

He’s not prepared for the sensation of phantom teeth sinking into his arm, nor the feeling of an arrow glancing across his cheek. He gasps as the pain races through his nerves, wondering what the hell his soulmate is doing, then there’s burning pain being torn apart fire smoke-

Tango blew up

SolidarityGaming died

The respawn only takes second, leaving Jimmy breathing heavily, hand clutching his chest as he sits in the branches of a tree. The pain is fading rapidly, and that sick, horrible part of Jimmy’s brain misses it, the same part that tells him to fall off his builds and overall be a fucking pitiful excuse of a human being.

He groans, pushing himself up and narrowly managing to avoid falling out of the tree completely as he lowers himself to the ground. He can hear frantic apologies from somewhere above him, and it takes a moment for him to spot the source of the voice- his soulmate.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry- that explodification came out of nowhere-“ Tango rakes his nails through his hair, small tendrils of smoke rising out of it as he does. His red eyes look sheepishly at the leaves in front of him as he sits in a tree, just like Jimmy was moments prior. “The first death too, oh gosh-“

Jimmy’s heart plummets into the earth below as he realizes that, yes, he did just die first, even if it wasn’t a permadeath. Granted, it was Tango that dragged him down, but they were practically one in the same now. He might have just doomed him from the second the universe linked them.

Void, he really is cursed, isn’t he?

Ice cold shards of hate and dread shoot through his veins, but he shoves them down into all the splintering cracks and crevices his constitution has acquired throughout all of this. He takes a deep breath, carefully schooling all the scorn out of his voice as he addresses the blaze born. “Ok, Tango, walk me through it- walk me through what happened.”

He watches as Tango talks, absorbing the words without fully taking time to understand them. The other man’s hands are constantly moving, fidgeting, and even now he refuses to meet Jimmy’s gaze, clearly embarrassed. His ruby red gaze instead flits between the leaves, the ground, the sky, anything except for Jimmy’s face.

Void, why does no one ever look at him?

He barely holds back a wince at the thought, pushing the thought down and instead reaching out a careful hand towards the fretting blaze hybrid. The other man startles out of his explanation at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, his gaze turning to Jimmy’s almost involuntarily as words accompany the touch. “Hey, it’s all good. It happens.”

And he means it. Even beneath all the hate and annoyance and pure everything churning beneath the surface, there’s no part of him that blames Tango.

After all, why blame him for Jimmy’s curse?

There’s nothing anyone could do to be settled with this luck, to be stuck with someone who can’t build, can’t do redstone, can only blow himself up with TNT and die. There’s no reason someone would deserve to be stuck with a person who only serves to isolate and drag others down with him, because if he’s ridiculed, everyone he associates with will be too. Then they’ll hate him, leaving him alone, and it’s just a never ending loop, really, a snake eating its own tail because there’s no one around for it to eat or to even eat it.

“Jimmy? You ok?”

Tango’s words send him careening back to earth, back to reality, back to the here and now. His eyes snap to his soulmate, and he’s looking at him now. Tango’s glowing eyes are trained on him, soley on him, and Jimmy fights back the question of when the last time someone did that was. It doesn’t matter, even if Tango’s undivided attention warms his soul similarly to how the blaze born is warming the air around him just by existing.

Stop trying to care. It will be easier if you don’t.

A smile slips back onto his face the way it always does, the way he’s made it, the way it has to. “Yeah, I’m all good!”

He wishes with all his heart that he could mean it.

It’s a struggle to stay tethered to the dirt beneath his feet as he explores, attempting to find his stuff to make up for what they lost. Of course, it’s long gone by the time he finds where he died, and all he has to show for his efforts is wounded pride as everyone’s laughter rings in his ears.

Void, he’s tired.

He’s not useful. He doesn’t know how to build, not like Tango does, as much as his soulmate tries to deny it. He doesn’t blame himself for that. He doesn’t.

He does. He really does.

Still, he can do some things. He focuses on the loud mooing of cows as they follow him, big brown eyes fixed on the wheat in his hand as he approaches the ranch, knocking clumsily against the door to alert the one inside.

“Jimmy? What are you- oh my god!”

Tango’s eyes shine as they land on the cows, and he immediately leans down and pets them, running a hand through their short fur. “There are so many! Jimmy, you’re amazing!”

The canary’s brain stutters.

… what?

He barely has time to process the words, ones he doesn’t remember the last time he heard, before he’s fully encompassed and his feet are off the ground and he’s surrounded by warm. Tango spins him around clumsily, laughing and squeezing tight, before pulling both of them onto the ground. Jimmy can feel both his own dull spike of pain as well as Tango’s as his heart thuds away in his chest.

Hands are on his back. Someone is laughing, but not at him. He’s not laughing at him. He’s not laughing at him.

For the first time in a long time, Jimmy’s heart feels warm.

For the first time in a long time, Jimmy laughs. Heartfeltly, genuinely laughs.

The rest of the day is spent in a flurry of activity, building a pen for the cows and feeding the chickens and a lovely almost domestic dance that Jimmy can barely wrap his head around, even as a pair of arms wraps around him more times than any ever have. His thoughts are still racing in bed that night.

It’s too good to be true.

Everyone has let him just be the butt of a joke for so long, so why on earth is Tango being like this? It’s horrible. It’s horrible and he loves it and he never wants to go without this feeling again even though he’s barely had it for long. He hates it.

He still doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it, just like how Tango doesn’t deserve all the trouble that’s going to come with being bound to him.

Haunting laughter echoes in his head, overpowering the warm sound of Tango’s from earlier. They’re a cruel, necessary reminder. He can’t let himself forget.

He’s Jimmy. And Jimmy can only fall.

He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, an idiot, because why on earth is he up on the roof of the ranch? It’s not like he’s going to do anything, not when it would take Tango down with him, not this early on in the games. Still, as he looks down at the ground, he wonders what he would have to do for it to be enough to kill. If he towers up and takes off what pathetic excuse for armor he has, he should splat pretty nicely. Then he’ll be red, then he can fall again and never have to worry about anything again.

His boots are next to him now. He doesn’t remember taking them off. A chill races up his spine in the cold night air, and he finds himself longing for warmth.

Tango is warm. He should go back to Tango.

He keeps sitting, clenching wooden planks in his hands and fighting the irrepressible urge to place one, then another, then another, then another…

He blinks. He’s higher up now. He doesn’t remember building up.

He should be more concerned, but he can’t bring himself to care.

The ground is far down, far enough to be dangerous, to be lethal. To be exactly what he wants. To take Tango down with him.

He should go back inside.

He sits on the planks, looking down.

It just isn’t fair. He just wants to- he-

He absentmindedly reaches up, digging his nails hard into his arms in a futile attempt to ground himself. It stings, sending spikes of pain racing through his nerves. Even when he’s almost certain there will be crescents in his arms for ages to come after he lets go, he keeps his hands in place, because maybe if he hurts enough here it will take away all the horrible tumultuous emotions that make him hurt more than this ever could.

I should fall. I should go inside, back to bed. I should stay. I don’t need to stay. I don’t want to stay. I can’t stay. I can’t-

“Jimmy?”

He doesn’t move, even as he feels his heart plummet.

Tango.

He’s so close. He should fall now. He screws his eyes shut, leaning forward. He needs to just do it a little more and-

Arms wrap around his shoulders and yank him back onto the block, holding him close.

There’s silence across the roof as the two men breathe raggedly, one’s heart racing with adrenaline and the other’s beating fast like it was almost one step closer to never doing again. It hurts. He was so close, but now he’s not, and it hurts. Sharp spikes of pain lace through his arms as his nails dig in yet again, harder than ever.

Tango lets out a hiss, and dully Jimmy remembers that Tango can feel that now. He’s hurting Tango. Void, he’s hurting Tango and he’s so damn angry at himself for it but that just makes him want to dig his nails into his arms even harder until-

Warm hands wrap around his wrists, gently pulling his hands from his arms. “Hey, hey, don’t hurt yourself. Please, just- talk to me, rancher.”

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that Tango is talking so softly to him despite them never having hung out before. It’s not fair that he doesn’t get this from those he’s known for years. It’s not fair that he has to keep hurting like this.

A drop of water lands on his arm, and he realizes with a start that he’s crying. A thumb gently swipes under his eye, wiping away the tears. “Let’s- let’s get down from here, ok?”

Jimmy barely manages a nod before an arm is wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Tango lowers them back down to the roof. Distantly, he realizes that Tango built up to him, wasting materials on him. He shouldn’t. Jimmy isn’t worth wasting materials on.

He’s not even worth the air he breathes.

“Don’t say that.”

Of course he said that out loud. Of course Tango heard him. It doesn’t sound like Tango’s voice responding. It’s shaky, scared. “Jimmy, please, you don’t mean that.”

He should say he doesn’t.

He shrugs.

The wind blows. He’s so cold.

Until, suddenly, he isn’t.

Warm hands reach up, cradling his face, and it takes everything in him not to lean into the touch. He looks at Tango for the first time this all started, and Tango looks at him, really looks at him in a way no one has in a long time. “Please,” he whispers, hair flickering in the dark. “Please, talk to me.”

Jimmy pushes the words out, stubborn and unwilling though they are, screwing his eyes shut. “… I can’t do this, Tango. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, that’s- that’s ok. That’s ok, we can talk to Grian, see if he can-“

“No.”

Tango’s tone somehow becomes even more earnest. “Jimmy, if you don’t want to play this time, you don’t have to- not if this is how it makes you feel.”

“That won’t change anything, Tango.” Silence. “I’d feel this way whether I was playing or not.”

Tango stills completely beside him, and a sick part of Jimmy cheers, because he’s finally disturbed the one good thing this run has had going for him. He’s finally going to be alone again, like he’s supposed to be, like the universe will forever dictate. Tears continue to fall from his eyes, rolling off his cheeks and onto the hands holding him so gently.

“How long?”

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? How long has he wanted to throw himself off buildings, wanted to drown himself knowing the others would just laugh it off as him being “classic Tim”?

How long has he wanted to die?

“I don’t know.” He replies, because that’s all he can say. It’s the closest thing to an answer he has, because even though he knows he wasn’t always like this he can’t clearly remember the before. Only the bitter, numb, hopeless now.

“What-“ The words abruptly cut off, and he feels the temperature in the air slowly creep higher. “It’s the others, isn’t it?”

All the air leaves Jimmy’s lungs as he opens his eyes, meeting Tango’s again as he hits the nail on the head, the final one in his coffin. He does it before he can think of what it means, that it’s confirming that he’s too sensitive to take jokes, to the point where he’d rather die than let others have some fun. He realizes a split second too late as Tango’s eyes widen, the flames on his head sparking with renewed fervor. He waits for the words that will undoubtedly accompany the sparks, the anger and disgust that will come with wasting Tango’s time with his stupid, stupid emotions.

“I’m going to kill them.”

… no.

No, that can’t be right.

That can’t be what Tango is saying, all while holding him and talking to him and wiping his tears. That can’t be right.

Because-

“No, don’t. It’s not their fault. I’m just-“

“-Jimmy, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“But it’s true!” It comes out louder than he means it to, adding ‘yelling at Tango’ to the ever growing list of things he can hate himself for as he yanks himself out of Tango’s hands. The cold stings his skin. “They’re just jokes! They don’t mean them to hurt. So if I am getting hurt, then I just can’t take it, because I’m weak and pathetic and I should just die!”

The words seem to ring out across the rooftop, the unspoken root of it all finally out in the open. All the things he swore he’d never let get heard are there, painful and raw and so, so messy, laid at Tango’s feet like the world’s most heretical offering, the kind that would get one cremated by holy fire for daring to even exist.

But-

The warmth that surrounds him isn’t burning. It’s careful, firm, pressure around his waist and chest. It’s fiery and strong but not harmful, like he’s sitting in a blazing furnace who’s flames are guarding him from every spare speck of cold that could approach him.

Tango is hugging him.

He can’t remember the last time a hug felt this safe.

“Jimmy, listen to me.” The murmured words pierce through his crumbled defenses and strike him right in his hurting, dying, bound soul. “You are not weak. You are not over-sensitive, you are not pathetic. You are kind, you are caring, and you would rather suffer to the point of death than let others know you’re hurting, but you are not any of those awful things you believe.”

He tries to talk, he does, but his brain is so overwhelmed by warmth, sadness, confusion, comfort, all the things he’s tried to keep at arm's reach, that all he can do is make a strangled whine of emotion.

“Shh, shh, I know, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts more than jokifying does, because a joke is only a joke if everyone is having fun. Jimmy, at that point they weren’t joking, even though that’s how they meant it. They were just being cruel.”

The stupid words won’t leave his lips, the questions and protests stuck on his tongue as he looks up at Tango. Somehow the man seems to know exactly what he can’t say as the blazeborn whispers his next words.

“You deserve to be upset, you deserve to be hurt by their comments. Jimmy, you deserve to live.”

The carefully crafted defenses break.

Jimmy collapses fully into Tango’s arms, gasping and heaving with great sobs as years upon years upon years of hurt and pain and anger spill out onto the blazeborn’s shoulder. He cries things, words he doesn’t even process besides his apologies and ranting and pleas, and Tango just rubs his back, sharp nails tracing gentle circles on his back in a way that only makes him cry harder.

The sun is rising by the time the sobs quiet down, leaving two soulmates holding each other in the dawn’s light. Tango’s fingers are running through Jimmy’s hair, and tears are no longer running down Jimmy’s face. The peaceful quiet isn’t shattered when Tango speaks up, instead gently crescendoed into a conversation.

“You should talk to Grian and Joel about this.”

The canary immediately tenses up beneath his soulmate. “No, I can’t-“ He winces as his voice comes out strained, his throat raw from hours of crying.

“Jimmy, I know Grian and Joel. If they knew they were making you hurt like this-“

“They’d blame themselves, Tango. I don’t want them to do that.”

“- I meant, they would stop making the jokes. They want you to be happy, rancher, but you have to tell them that it’s hurting you.”

“I can’t.”

Tango gently takes his face in his hands, guiding his gaze up to his own ruby eyes. “I’ll go with you if you need me to, but they need to know, otherwise the problem isn’t going to get any better.” He pauses. “Then again, if I explodificate them then they can’t make those jokes anymore…”

“No, no, no exploding my brother.”

“So I can explode Joel?”

“No!” Jimmy sighs, leaning his face into Tango’s hands. “… could you be there? Please?”

“Of course.” Tango smiles, brighter than the rising sun and kinder than he’s been looked at in ages. He’s warmer than the sun, too, filling Jimmy with a comfort and making him feel safe. He had forgotten what it felt like to be safe.

He almost never got to remember.

There are still hard conversations he has to have. Telling Grian is certainly going to be full of tears from both parties, and Jimmy is not delusional- he knows it’s not always going to be like this, that he’s going to have to fight everything he’s come to believe about himself if he decides to trust that Tango is right.

Still, as his eyes drift shut, he finally lets himself believe that there’s hope for him after all.

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unreadpoppy · 7 months

Text

Wash My Dreams Away - Chapter 6

Halsin x Gwen (Tav) / Raphael x Gwen (Tav) on the side

Read on AO3

Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter took me so long to make and it's so big but here it is. I’m probably going to be taking way longer now to update my on going fics because my university classes came back and so did my internship which means I’m either tired or stressed most of the time. Also, tw for suicide since Yurgir kills himself in this one.

As Gwendolyn’s insomnia persisted - though now she was able to take a few, small naps - the group decided to give attention to other matters, halting the search for the Thorm family mausoleum temporarily.

In that time period, Halsin saw the state in which the fist, Art Cullagh was, and thought it possible that maybe he would know how to find Thaniel. After finding his lute in the House of Healing, Art woke up, explaining what had happened to him. With that information, the druid opened up a portal, rescuing the nature spirit. Now, it was only a matter of reuniting him with his other half.

However, while on this mission, Gwen discovered the grim fate of Locke and Komira - Arabella’s parents. Though Withers had reassured that the young tiefling would be safe, now that she had the Weave with her, Gwendolyn couldn’t help but feel for her.

“Someone so young shouldn’t have to go through such grief.” She had said to Halsin. Since he wasn’t getting close to solving her insomnia problem, he’d offered the next best thing: company.

“Nature can be quite cruel.” He replied. “But it always balances itself in the end.” The druid looked at Gwen. “She may have lost her parents, but she has found great power within. Besides, Arabella still has the other tieflings to look out for her.”

“I know but…I wish there was more that we could do for her.” She sighed. “That I could do for her.”

Halsin placed a hand on her shoulder. “You saved her life, Gwendolyn. And you brought her comfort and shelter when she most needed it.” He told her.

Gwen looked forwards, watching the girl playing with Scratch and the owlbear cub, laughing around, a bit of her magic sparking. The tiefling nodded and then shook her head. “It’s amazing how always right you are.” She gave Halsin a smirk, the closest thing to a smile she had given to anyone in the past days.

It may not have been much, but the old elf had to admit how much he had missed seeing her smile, even if it was this. He chuckled. “No one is ever always right. I just happen to be good at observation.”

Gwen huffed, and shook her head. Her attention shifted towards his tent, and upon seeing the sleeping Thaniel, she sighed. “Have you figured out what’s wrong with him?”

Halsin nodded. “The shadows rended him in two when they bore him away to the Shadowfell. Half of his essence remained here, amidst the curse.” The druid proceeded to explain how the other half must have been corrupted from being in the shadow cursed land, that it might not recognize Thaniel or be reasoned with.

Gwen nodded. “You have any ideas on how to find the missing part?”

“No matter how the shadows might have twisted it, it’s still a part of Thaniel’s essence. It will resemble him somehow, and may show part of his powers.” He proposed. “Look for signs of life in the darkness. Wildflowers, where everything else is dead.”

While he spoke, Gwen began thinking if she had seen anything like that before. The wildflowers part, especially, spoke to her.

“I think…I think I know somewhere we could look first.” She said, cautiously. “My memory may be a bit foggy now but I remember collecting a night orchid - Shadowheart’s favorites - near this old house.”

Halsin nodded. “It could be a beginning. I’ll admit that, when we first entered the shadow cursed lands, I saw something of the sort. Fool that I am, I did not grasp their significance at the time.” He shook his head and continued. “There is a ruin, some way outside of Last Light. I caught a glimpse of fresh blooms there, but did not investigate further. I shall mark it on your map.”

Gwen put her hands on her tights and pushed herself up. “I’ll go get to it.” She yawned, turning her back to him and walking away.

Halsin quickly stood to his feet. “Gwen, wait.” He gently grabbed her wrist, turning her back to him. “This is not a burden you have to bear alone.” He said, looking into her eyes. “Every moment counts, and I’ve asked much of you already without being at your side.”

Gwen raised a brow but let him continue. “If you want me, I’m yours. Against the curse, the Absolute - anything. Just say the word.” At that, the tiefling could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She took a deep breath as he said“I’ll be ready.”

Looking at him, she could see the sincerity in his words. She had been for a long time for him to join them, not just because he would be a valuable asset, but so that Halsin would be around more often. In truth, she had become intrigued by him. Halsin had a heart as big as his stature but he was also fierce when needed. He was a good listener, wise and when around the druid, Gwen felt safe. In the past weeks, she had gotten closer to him, considering him a friend.

‘I wonder if he feels the same.’ She thought. ‘If there could be more…’ A stray thought passed through her head, of them becoming more than friends, but she shook her head.

“I think you should come with us. I want you to come with us.” Gwendolyn finally spoke up.

Halsin smiled. “Now our roots can deepen - together.”

The tiefling ran off, gathering the others, and soon, they were in search of Thaniel’s missing half.

…

Once Oliver and Thaniel were reunited, the fey arose from his slumber, putting the party back on their mission: if the shadow curse was to be lifted, Ketheric Thorm must die.

The Thorm Mausoleum. After a day of search, the entrance was finally there. There was a mixture of feelings - relief that they were one step closer to their goal, and anxiety, for only the gods knew what awaited them.

As they approached it, Raphael made his presence known.

“Our hero but thought a treasure ahead, Did not consider the peace of the dead.” He said, turning his attention to the party. “Through the dark she went creeping, And awoke what was sleeping. A new grave they dug, which she herself fed.”

For a brief second, Gwendolyn thought that her mind was imagining him, considering how deprived of sleep she had been, but after seeing the expressions on her friend’s faces, she knew he was real.

Gwen sighed. “How long were you practicing that little recital?”

“Until it was perfect.” He said. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know, in my own way.” Gwen raised a brow at that. “I thought to give you a warning for the dangers ahead.”

The devil proceeded to talk about a creature, one as infernal as he, that lay within the Mausoleum. With a little prodding, he revealed that this creature was an old enemy of his. The ‘devil incarnate’, as Raphael put it, was a strong and dangerous foe that should be put down quickly.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Astarion.” He turned his attention towards the vampire. “When the beast is dead, I’ll consider payment enough to translate those scars of yours.”

“A fairer deal then I expected” The elf replied.

“You wound me, spawn. I always deal fairly.” Raphael eyed Gwen up and down for a moment before continuing “And we’ll close this particular deal soon enough - vanquish the beast and all will be revealed.”

At that last phrase, the devil looked straight at the tiefling, a smirk forming on his lips. She squinted her eyes at him, trying to understand if there was some underlying meaning behind those words, however, before she could think about it, he was gone.

…

‘Of course there’s a temple of Shar here and of course it is full of traps.’ Gwendolyn thought to herself as Astarion finished disarming yet another trap. After the place was cleared, the party moved forward, Shadowheart quickly noticing the skeletons of several Dark Justiciars.

They explored more, stopping when they found a displacer beast and a voice said “What’s this? Fresh entertainment?”

The group looked up and were met with the sight of a large and strong devil, one Gwen recognized as an orthon. This must be Raphael’s enemy.

“But you’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you? There’s a whiff of the surface to you.” He took a great sniff. “And you - tiefling. You have more infernal blood than others of your species“ He said, looking at Gwen. “...There’s something else, almost hidden by your fear-stink…cherries, musk…sulphur.” The orthon paused for a moment, getting angry. “Raphael! I can smell him all over you. Where is he?!”

At that, Gwendolyn felt Halsin tense up behind her. She thought, for a moment, about her options. Raphael had warned them about how dangerous a direct confrontation with the devil could be, and she was too tired to fight. Considering how she had been able to evade a fight with the corrupted Thorm family before, she wondered if she could get the orthon to off himself as well.

“Wait - you know Raphael?” She asked him, pretending not to know that they were acquaintances.

“That perfumed trickster swindled me - trapped me.”

“You know, I’ve had dealings with the devil. Maybe we can help each other.” She offered.

“Where is he? Spit it out - now.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion whispered. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it.”

She turned back to look at him, sending a message via the tadpoles. ‘Trust me.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry for questioning the decision making of our sleep deprived leader’ He responded back, sarcastically.

Gwen rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the orthon. “Let’s share our experiences about Raphael. Perhaps there’s something we can do to help each other.”

“Bargaining, are you?” He scoffed. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s not just the wall that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark or the creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me here - a contract.” The devil explained. “Either I fulfill it, die trying or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I’ll become Raphael’s slave.”

Putting a hand on her hip, and trying to bring her most charming smirk, Gwen said, gesturing to herself “You are in luck. I happen to be an expert in such deals - and there is always a loophole.”

“Raphael is no foolish story-devil. His mind is different. Sneaky. Listen…” The orthon began to sing, and Gwen had to cross her arms so as to not cover her ears.

As she listened to the contract-song, she felt a chuckle of crackling fire in the back of her mind. Her patron, Skathís, enjoyed a cleverly constructed contract, it seemed. Especially the ones with a built in loophole.

“Pay attention to the song’s last couplet.” She could hear him whispering in her ear. “The clause is near impossible to complete.”

“That’s it.” The orthon finished.

“He’s the one who slaughtered the Dark Justiciars.” Shadowheart said.

“We can kill now? Because if he doesn’t die, Raphael won’t say a damn thing about my scars!” Astarion complained, and Gwendolyn turned back to shush him. He huffed, crossing his arms.

“Parchment can burn. Oral agreements aren’t worth the tongues they’re waggled out upon. A song lingers.” The orthon explained. “I did as instructed, but the song still rattles in my head - the contract still stands, somehow. If I break it, I’ll become Raphael’s slave - forever.”

‘Always deals fairly my arse.’ Gwen thought, remembering what he had said outside the mausoleum. Then, she once again felt Skathís presence. “Allow me to help, daughter.”

She nodded, feeling his diabolic words on her tongue when she spoke. “You always hear the song, orthon. Kill yourself, be reborn in the Hells, break the contract.”

Gwen could feel her father’s grin. A job well done. As the orhon called Raphael a bastard, impaling himself on his sword, the tiefling put her hands on her hips, pleased with herself. The others looked at her, impressed.

“Does…that count as killing him? That had better count.” Astarion said, smiling.

“I told you to trust me.” She told him, and walked away.

…

Back at camp, Raphael appeared, keeping his word. He told Astarion of the grim tale behind his scars, of the Ritual of Profane Ascension and the pale elf’s part in it. The vampire excused himself, needing a moment to think of it, leaving Gwendolyn and the devil alone.

He turned his full attention towards her. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you, dear Gwen.” He said, putting a finger on his chin. “Tell me, how well have you been sleeping? Not well, I take it.“ Raphael smirked.

Her mouth opened, surprised. How did he know? “What do you mean?”

“My, have you taken a look in the mirror recently?” He replied, gesturing to her up and down. “It doesn’t take much to figure it out.” A glint in his eyes told her there was more to it than his keen observation skills, but she couldn’t figure out what.

Gwen sighed, not having the patience for this. “If you’ve come only to insult me then-”

“Ah, I apologize if my words struck a nerve.” He bowed. “Regardless, I come with a gift.” Raphael moved his hand, a vial with a red liquid appeared in it, a small card tied at the top of it. “For your sleeping ailment.”

She took it from him, analyzing the drink. Although Raphael had kept his end of the deal with Astarion, she felt that something was off. Gwen looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

“Your lack of sleep is making you say the most absurd accusations. If I were to want you dead, I would have done so long ago.” Raphael scoffed.

She raised a brow. “Then why help me?”

“Why?” He asked, incredulous. “Because my compassion is boundless, my little butterfly. I stride amongst the needy, giving comfort where I can” He repeated the same words he once said in their first encounter.

“Compassion is not something befitting of a devil.”

Raphael smirked. “Ah, but it seems your patron thinks otherwise.” Gwen gulped.“You may try to hide it from your companions, but I know the secret of your heritage, warlock. That your patron, the cambion Skathís, is also your father.”

He looked down at her. “You think I wouldn’t know how dearly he sang in your ear, showing you the loophole? How eager he was to help end my contract?” His face was contorted in anger. “Did you think I would take kindly to another fiend interfering in my business? After all, I said it was you who must kill the orthon.”

She froze, not knowing what to do. She hadn’t done anything wrong - it wasn’t as if she could deny her patron’s wishes, but she couldn’t predict his next move.

She gulped. “I, uhm, apologize, then, if my patron’s help was so upsetting to you.”

He raised a brow. “Hm…I shall not blame the daughter for the sins of her father.” Raphael took a step forward. “Regardless, I must be on my way.” He pointed towards the vial on her hands. “The gift still stands. Take it, and you shall have the sleep of the just.” A light engulfed Raphael and he was gone.

Gwendolyn stood there, looking at the liquid. It wasn’t a good idea to drink something a devil offered. Afterall, he put a loophole in the orthon’s contract, only the gods knew what this potion could have.

But, another part of her, the one that was desperate to sleep, wondered how bad could it be? Raphael had kept his end of Astarion’s deal, and truly, he hadn’t done actual harm to the party. Gwen tried to call on her patron’s wisdom but he was silent.

‘Some sleep would be nice.’ She thought. ‘I need to rest, so I can get better and help the party more. Besides, how am I to face Ketheric when I haven't been in my best state possible?’

And so, after all had gone to their bedrolls, Gwen opened up the vial and drank everything, not taking a moment to read the card. In an instant, she was asleep.

…

As morning came, and all woke up, Halsin was the first to notice that the pink tiefling had actually slept through the night. She was still in her bedroll, while the others were getting ready.

He crouched down next to her, smiling and nudging her shoulder. “I see you finally got some rest. I hate to cut it short, but we must get on with the day.”

Gwen showed no signs of waking up. Halsin frowned, gently shaking her shoulder now. “Come on, Gwen, you have to wake up.”

Still nothing. “Gwendolyn.” He said, grabbing both of her shoulders, raising her slightly from the bedroll. Her head lolled back, eyes still closed. He put his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat. Still trying to be gentle, he shook her once. “Gwen, wake up!”

“Halsin, what’s wrong?” Shadowheart said, frowning while getting close to him. The others soon turned their attention towards them.

“It’s Gwen…she won’t wake up.” He said, worry in his voice. She kneeled next to the tiefling, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Maybe we should throw a bucket of water on her - that’ll wake her up.” Astarion said, and Wyll smacked him on the back of his head. “What? I was just trying to help.”

As the two healers continued to try and figure out what was wrong, Minthara pointed at something. “What’s that on her hand?”

Halsin took one of Gwen’s wrists and saw that her fist was enclosed on an empty, glass vial. He took it, and read the small card tied to it.

‘Sweet dreams

- R.’

#halsin x tav #halsin x gwen #halsin bg3 #oc: gwendolyn gray #raphael x tav #raphael x gwen #astarion bg3 #shadowheart bg3 #yurgir bg3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3

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eikonbound · 8 months

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Take my life’s essence and bless me with a child of blood, Anabella prayed quietly as white pain shot through her arms and made her wince. Blood dripped into the brazier and brought out a hiss from the flames that turned golden. It was his voice that ripped her out of her desperate prayer, and she turned her head to the side to glance at Barnabas from the corner of her eye. His words cut deeper than the blade of her ritual dagger; its ache more difficult to bear than any wounds she inflicted upon herself to sacrifice her blood to the flames. He scolded her, telling her how she would be useless for their goal if she spent her body in such a fashion – as if he had not been the reason for this desperate prayer in the first place. In his view, she was already useless and barren, was she not?

Never would it be enough. No matter what she did, how amicable she was. He despised and loathed her. And that realisation was even worse. Elwin had at least been polite in his indifference. Barnabas was a monster in comparison. And she was his. “ Leave me alone, ” Anabella snapped at him and tore her arm out of his grasp, staining his hand in crimson from the blood that was running down her forearms and colouring her rolled up sleeves dark. Her legs trembled when she rose to her feet, and she staggered; almost fainting from the pain and the loss of blood. “ I never wanted to bear your cursed child! I never wanted to come here to play whore for you! ” Behind her, the flames flickered and grew rapidly, licking the wall behind her in response to her rising anger. She had never screamed at him before, and surely this was a poor idea, Anabella knew, but now that her emotions broke loose from grief and anger, she could not hold back anymore. They poured forth like the flames illuminating the room. “ No one asked me to become your wife! No one asked me if I wanted to become Elwin’s wife, either! I was supposed to stay at Phoenix Gate and marry the man I loved. And who wanted me! Unlike you and Elwin! ”

The fireplace cracked dangerously, and it was the candles that flared up and caught the tapestry – setting it aflame in her rage. “ You hate me! Just like all the rest! Neither of you ever cared! Leave me alone! ”

Barnabas should have minded his tongue, he realized this now. But the words had already done their damage and he could see them wreaking havoc on Anabella's already fragile disposition. His initial frustration with her, though not entirely gone, faded into the background as she let loose her unfiltered feelings.

The splatter of blood against him from Anabella's sudden move took him aback, his throat constricting at the sight of it. It was strange to Barnabas, how a fleeting image could knock him so off-kilter. He nearly recoiled from her but held himself still, refusing to let his attention stray from the present moment. The rising panic in him only made him more sure that he needed to bring Anabella back to some sense of balance and calm. Barnabas was surprised by how much it jarred him to see her driven to such hysteria, and it was undoubtedly fueled by his actions. Perhaps the breakdown had been in progress before they met, but he was the last straw.

His eyes darted to her legs, noting how they threatened to buckle beneath her. Although Barnabas shouldn't have been surprised by her words, each one stung him with more intensity than he could the last. It wasn't that he'd ever held an illusion or expectation of romance for him and Anabella; it was a political arrangement that could very well yield the most monumental of rewards for the pair of them; the best of what both had to offer in their power. The world had never seen a child borne of the Phoenix and Odin. In truth, there was no concrete documentation of such a thing being a certainty, but there had never been undeniable proof of Odin's existence until his mother insisted they see the ritual through. Barnabas knew by now not to doubt the possibility of these teachings or to dismiss them as myths. He was proof that they were real.

But their attempts at conceiving were fruitless thus far, leading Barnabas to wonder what piece wasn't falling into place. Anabella hadn't been successful in conceiving with the Duke in Rosaria, though Barnabas could admit that it wasn't a guarantee that she was the problem. He regularly fought off the growing fear that it was his body, his genetics, that kept them from creating this child. Anabella was an easy scapegoat, but he was just as likely to be the culprit. Now, Barnabas could see how loose-lipped he'd been and wished he could rescind all of those accusations. Perhaps Anabella wouldn't have resorted to these methods had he been more merciful.

He nearly rebutted against her claim that she was merely playing whore for him, but the flames inching ever higher behind Anabella stopped him in his tracks. This was escalating quickly, and she was going to burn everything down with them inside it if she carried on this way.

Although her other words brought him up short, Barnabas' tone grew softer and more firm when he spoke now. "I do not hate you. And I know I am not the man you wanted to spend your life with," he murmured, keeping an eye on the flames climbing around them as he continued with his measured words, "But I will make you a home here."

Barnabas stepped forward, holding his hand aloft in front of her. "You needn't forgive me for how I've treated you. You needn't ever forgive me. Carry your resentment and hatred for me as close as you wish, if it brings you comfort or gratification. I've surely earned it. I only ask that you leave this room with me so I can ensure our safety, and then you grant me the chance to right my wrongs." Barnabas knew that Anabella had no reason to trust him or to even want to leave the scene alive. He was asking a great deal of her, and he wasn't sure how exactly he would carry out his promise. He only knew that he must, and his resolve was enough for now.

"Please, take my hand, follow me out. All of this can burn away, it doesn't matter. If you and I escape this in one piece, that's all that matters."

@creatrix-mea

#self harm tw #fire tw #blood tw #*vibrates with excitement*#creatrixmea #( barnabas / ana ) ; i’d wanna be felled by you / held by you / fuel the pyre of your enemies ( creatrixmea )

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andreal831 · 1 year

Text

The Great War: Chapter 17 Outtake

Elijah was beginning to regret his offer to take Freya to Austin, Texas. He and Astra had far too much to be doing and he really did not relish the idea of sharing a taxi and then a plane with his older siblings. He was already at his wit's end being shoved in the back of the cab for a half hour while Freya, sitting next to him, attempted to touch everything she could reach.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty that he had been so unaware of how much Freya was still struggling to adapt to the twenty-first century. There had been so much going on with Hayley being cursed and Hope still adjusting to being away from Hayley that Elijah hadn’t even noticed. Elijah smiled as he watched Freya lean over to gaze out the window as they got closer to the airport. Her face lit up with joy at the idea of flying.

“You got first class, right?” Astra glanced over at him from where she sat on the other side of Freya. It was the first thing she had said to him the entire car ride. She had chosen her seat as far away from Finn and himself as she could get.

“Yes,” he sighed. “We could be flying on a private jet had you not swayed me away from it.”

He had looked into purchasing one multiple times. It seemed his family had a tendency to need to get across the country, or even the world, on a moment's notice.

“I’m sorry that I don’t want the world to end due to your desire to fly private,” Astra snapped at him. He had hoped the light joke would have been enough to ease the tension between them, but it only seemed to annoy her more. He was the one that was supposed to be annoyed, not her. “After all, we will be the ones to deal with the consequences.”

“Why would a plane end the world?” Freya raised an eyebrow at Astra in confusion causing his friend to smile slightly.

“Come on,” Astra hopped out of the car as it came to a stop in front of the airport. “I’ll teach you all about climate change.”

Elijah watched as the women walked into the airport, leaving their bags behind for him and his brother to grab. Finn didn’t even acknowledge his younger brother as they grabbed the bags from the back and headed to where the women were waiting.

He was fortunate that Astra was there, patiently explaining the TSA process to Freya who seemed overwhelmed by the lights and noise. Finn had a better grasp on technology from his time alive in Mystic Falls, but even he was confused by the x-ray machines. Elijah supposed he could have compelled their way through, but he personally enjoyed the simple, mundane activities. It got old, compelling his way through life all of the time.

Watching Astra show Freya the ropes, he couldn’t help but smile. Astra was always a kind person, even if she pretended she was not. Even if she was mad at him for being upset with her. Once they were through security, Elijah led them all to their gate. They hadn’t left much time to wait so the awkward silence that settled over them only fortunately did not last long before they were boarding the flight.

“You two take those, and Freya and I will sit over here.”

He nearly groaned as Astra instructed them. He understood her point. She had no desire to sit next to Finn and apparently she still didn’t want to talk to him. So instead, he sat next to his brother and across the aisle from Freya.

“Do you truly hate me that much?” His brother didn’t look at him, instead he kept his face forward with a neutral expression. “You cannot even sit next to me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Elijah matched his brother’s detached tone. “I simply wished to sit next to Freya.”

“You’ve known her for a matter of months and yet care for her?” He could hear the pain in Finn’s voice. It took a moment for Elijah to gather a response. He had never considered Finn had wanted them to care for him. Growing up, he had always ignored their presence in favor of their mother’s. Then after they turned, Finn never seemed to want to be around them. He was mourning their mother and the loss of their human life. The only thing that eventually dragged him out of it was the fiery redhead he met a century or so later.

“I care for her because she cares for our family,” Elijah settled on a neutral reply.

“So I deserved to be locked in a box for a thousand years because I didn’t support our sibling’s bloodlust.” This time Finn did turn to face him, his eyes flashing with hurt.

Elijah sighed, he did not want to start this conversation while confined to such a small space.

“I figured you would prefer it that way,” Elijah adjusted his tie to give him something to do with his hands. “Afterall, you hated what we are.”

“So that is your excuse? You were doing me a favor?”

“You were not willing to step up, so I did,” Elijah snapped, turning in his seat to face his brother more directly. “I have had to make some terrible choices to keep our family together. You did not care for the life we were forced to live and continued to make it difficult for the rest of us, so yes, when given an out, I took it.”

“I apologize that I was grieving the loss of our mother and the life–”

“You think you are the only one who lost her,” Elijah cut him off. “I lost her too and Tatia, but you left it to me to hold our family together, so I did it in the only way I could manage.”

They both let the silence wash over them. He stared forward for a moment trying to calm himself when he felt a wave of peace wash over him. Glancing to his left, he saw Astra peeking around Freya.

You okay? She mouthed to him and he gave her a sharp nod of his head, allowing her calming effect to invade him. Even annoyed, she was still concerned about the spike of anxiety he was feeling.

Suddenly Freya looked up from where she had been watching a movie and pulled out her headphones, “This seat has a television in it.”

Her eyes were lit up with joy as they moved back to the screen, completely unaware of the tense conversation that had been going on between the two brothers.

Elijah smiled at her and waited for her to put the headphones back in.

“I didn’t mean for it to be that long,” Elijah whispered. “I thought if you were out of the picture for a time, I could handle Niklaus and Kol. That once Niklaus found his happiness and Kol managed to control his bloodlust, I could release you and we could be a family once again. That clearly never happened.”

“So you put Niklaus over the rest of this family?” Finn kept his tone soft as well, neither brother able to meet the other’s eye.

“I am the reason Niklaus is the way he is.” The confession felt like a weight that had been suffocating him for a millennium. All of his actions when he was young defined the rest of his brother’s life. Mistakes made based on his own pain and suffering, but that didn’t change the impact they had on not only Niklaus but his whole family. “I believed if I could show him he was loved unconditionally, he would find a way back to himself. Then I would reunite the family. I was mistaken.”

The words hung over them for a few moments before Finn reached across and placed a hand on his younger brother’s arm.

“It was never easy,” he took a deep breath. “It wasn’t easy watching Mikael treat you all the way he did. Watching our siblings lose themselves to this curse. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Hearing his brother echo the same words he had thought so many times over the years made Elijah feel as if he wasn’t so alone. “It was never your job. You were just a kid as well. I never should have expected it from you.”

“And it was never your job either,” Finn mirrored his brother’s tone. “We are not their parents. It was never our responsibility, but it was always expected.”

Elijah finally met his brother’s eyes and, for the first time, he saw the sympathetic boy Freya had described. The big brother that he had always wanted to lean on for support.

“And now I fear I have relegated Hope to that same fate.” This was a fear he had never spoken aloud. He knew his brother loved Hope, but he also knew the cost of being loved by a Mikaelson. It was a toxic love that only led to pain and heartache.

“You haven't," Finn said with more confidence in Elijah than he had ever heard.

“How can you be so sure?” He thought of how callously his brother had taken Hayley away from Hope for months without a care. “Niklaus still seems to only act in his own interest.”

“Yes, but you will not let him do to Hope what he has done to us.”

Elijah didn’t bother to hide the surprise on his face. Finn was the last person he ever thought would have confidence in his ability to take care of their family. “I've proven time and again that I cannot control him.”

“You've already done something for her that you never did for us.” Elijah watched his brother lean back against his seat, seemingly wanting to end the emotional conversation. “You've stood up to Nik.”

The flight was a quiet affair after the brother’s heartfelt conversation. Elijah didn’t know how to engage his brother again and Finn didn’t seem interested in starting another conversation. So instead Elijah watched his sister and best friend watch some movie, smiling gently at their expressions.

It was a short flight and Astra and Elijah walked them out to the waiting cars where Freya rushed forward to greet Keelin. Finn hung back, not sure what to do with himself. When Freya finally pulled away and gestured for him to come forward, Finn began to walk toward the two women. Something dawned on him and he turned around to his brother and pulled him into a quick hug.

“I’ll see you soon, brother,” Finn gave him a stiff nod before joining Freya and her girlfriend. Elijah stood in surprise. He couldn’t remember ever hugging Finn. But maybe this would be the start of a better relationship between the two brothers.

#elijah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #freya mikaelson #astra erikson #the originals #the vampire diaries #the mikaelsons #tvdu #tvdu fanfiction #long live the mikaelsons #the great war #tvd fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 fanfic #tvd #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3fic

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