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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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Charm

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky checks whether he still has his 1940′s charm.

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: TFATWS spoilers! No warning, just a bit of fluff I guess???

A/N: Nothing really, just that Bucky deserves all the love in the world :’)

Charming (Part 2) || MAIN MASTERLIST

“You should date someone.”

Bucky groans at Yori’s suggestion. Again. The old guy had been pestering him about it ever since they started their little friendship. Introduced girls and forced him to take them out to dinner or bingo. He did try of course, but it always seemed too fast for him.

“I already did, haven’t I? You sort of forced me to go on one, remember?” Bucky asked before downing a glass of sake in one go.

Thank god they went to a different Japanese restaurant this time. His date with the girl at the other restaurant went pretty badly, with him walking out after a particularly sensitive topic and never returning. Bucky felt bad and as much as he wanted to go back there and apologize, he just doesn’t have the courage to show his face again.

“Yeah, well you messed up.” Yori said pointedly.

Bucky chortled, “Or maybe you messed up by forcing me. I told you, you gotta take it slow like a dance. I mean, you don’t just ask anyone to dance with you. You ask someone you’d like to dance with.”

Yori’s shoulders trembled as he tried to bite back his laughter. Bucky made a face when he realized he’d been talking a lot.

“Then go find someone you want to date. Or maybe you just don’t have it in you.” The older man teased.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin, “Sounds like a challenge.”

As Bucky poured himself another glass of sake, he began to wonder whether Yori was right. Maybe he really didn’t have it anymore, the confidence and charm he used to have back in his time.

Only one way to find out.

The club was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Initially, Bucky thought that it would be the perfect place to find someone to date. Apparently not, because despite the presence of beautiful girls, they were pretty much throwing themselves at him. As much as Bucky was curious about the so called “hook-up” culture in the modern times, it just wasn’t for him.

And good god, the dancing? It’s not what it used to be; Bucky wasn’t even sure if he could call those movements “dance”.

Bucky called it a night and quickly headed to the exit. And that’s where he noticed you, fumbling with your phone and clicking your tongue from what seemed to be frustration. He slowed down in his steps, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as you mumbled a string of curses to yourself.

He eyed you from head to toe, noticing that you were wearing something too simple for a club: just a white shirt, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. With Bucky’s experience, he learned to be observant enough to read someone’s personality.

You were definitely not a frequent visitor to these clubs. And he was right about that because you were just forced to tag along to your officemates to celebrate a promotion.

“Ugh, fuck. Come on!” You unintentionally exclaimed out loud, stomping on the ground causing for Bucky to let out a chuckle.

Bucky’s eyes widened when you abruptly turned around, “Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to uhh...are you okay?” He asked timidly, slowly walking over to where you stood.

You huffed out, “I’m trying to book a ride, but the signal here sucks.” You explained. “And I’m not really comfortable to walk home at this hour.” You quickly added.

It was close to ten in the evening, it wasn’t that late yet but given the location and downsides of being a woman, you really didn’t want to risk your safety.

“Won’t your friends give you a ride home?” He asked.

You groaned, “They aren’t really my friends...I just work with them. They’re all shit-faced drunk and I didn’t even plan on coming here. Not a fan of clubs.” You admitted.

Bucky chuckled as he kicked the ground, “Guess that makes two of us.”

Your hum caught Bucky’s attention and when he looked up, you were looking at him suspiciously. For a moment he thought that you might have recognized him but you merely laughed and shook your head.

“You don’t seem like the type to hate clubs. Why are you here then?” You asked curiously.

Bucky shrugged, “Thought I’d find someone here that I can you know...take out on a date.”

You cackled out loud, it was the kind of laughter that made Bucky join in. You probably thought it was stupid for him to come looking for love at a club. And well, given his experience inside, you were correct.

“I know. It’s stupid. I haven’t been to clubs really, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” He admitted, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.

You nodded, “How was your experience inside then?”

“You could say I was pretty shocked. And disoriented. The lights made me dizzy.” Bucky said, widening his eyes in emphasis.

Laughing, you nodded and agreed before introducing yourself so casually. Bucky repeated your name, he liked the way it sounded.

“I’m James.”

Bucky found himself easily opening up to you. The conversations flowed naturally, from something as basic as favorite food down to your mutual hatred for crowded places and everything in between. Bucky learned that you often volunteer at an orphanage and that you hate plums which happens to be his favorite. It resulted to a harmless debate that lasted ten minutes.

You asked him about his work, something that he had to lie his way around. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, he was afraid that revealing the truth might scare you off. You seemed to be really interested in him whenever he talked about his boring daily routine.

“Do you...do you like to talk somewhere else?” Bucky blurted out.

You offered a sad smile, one that broke Bucky’s heart because you were probably going to reject him. Understandable though, he was a stranger and it was late at night. It was hard to trust people nowadays.

“I have work tomorrow morning.” You apologetically said.

“But you can walk me home...if you’d like?” You asked. “I probably sound demanding but uhh, I don’t think I can really book a ride and I don’t want to walk home alone at this hour.”

Bucky heaved out a deep sigh of relief and laughed, “I thought you didn’t like talking to me.” He sheepishly admitted.

“No, I actually like talking to you. You’re fun. And interesting.” You smiled.

Bucky beamed and extended a hand, letting you lead the way before matching your pace. The more he talked to you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d be the first person he’d willingly ask out on a date.

The walk lasted half an hour but to Bucky, it only felt like minutes. It was definitely not enough for him to get to know you more.

“Well, this is me.” You announced when you reached your apartment building.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” You said.

Bucky placed his hands inside his pockets and nodded, “Call me old-fashioned, but I felt like any gentleman should do so.”

Bucky held your gaze and debated how he should ask you out. Should he just blurt out the question? Would that be too soon? Your number! Maybe he should ask for your number first, show his therapist that finally, there was a new number registered in his contacts.

“Well, I should head inside.” You said when Bucky remained silent and although Bucky didn’t want to assume, he thought he saw a look if disappointed in your eyes.

Yori is going to regret saying that he doesn’t have game.

“Wait,” Bucky called out before you could turn around. “Being old-fashioned and all, I know this might be too forward. Or too fast, even.” he trailed and cleared his throat.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me? This Saturday. We can go to the beach, get ice cream...” he suggested.

Wrong move! Out of all the places he could suggest, it just had to be the beach! It’s not like he could wear a long-sleeved top and his gloves without getting dirty looks from people. You were going to find out the truth about him, his arm, his past. And then you’d regret letting him walk you home because who knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of?

“I’d love to.” You replied with a grin but before Bucky could suggest another place, you had already walked up to the front door of your apartment building, pulling it open before suddenly stopping.

“Or we can just take a walk at the park if you want, if that’s more comfortable for you.” You suggested turning your head to look back at Bucky.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. Again, he was unable to say something because you beat him to it with a surprising revelation.

“I’ll wait for you to come pick me up on Saturday. And don’t worry about your arm, I don’t mind. Good night, Bucky.”

And with one final beautiful smile, you headed inside the building leaving Bucky with a confused look. You knew him all along but didn’t say anything. You opened up to him, held his arm when you laughed and still, it didn’t bother you. You didn’t call him out when he lied about working for a mechanic shop, didn’t get scared when he offered to walk you home.

It took a few seconds for Bucky’s brain to process everything. And then he found himself grinning like a fool when he proved something to himself. And well, Yori too.

“Guess I still got it.”

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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#bbbwrites #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

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Off to the Races | AU: Gangsters/Casino | Russel Adler x fem!reader

Summary: You were born for the stage. A natural dancer with all of your youth used for experience, you now find yourself as a showgirl in one of Vegas' top casinos, the SunDowner. Owned by, Russell Adler, a notorious gangster in the underworld who remains undercover to the public eye, business is booming. Doubly so when a mysterious promotion comes your way, launching you to the top stage...

Just when you thought your life couldn't get more interesting, just how crazy will things get when the old gangster handpicks you from one crazy life to another, to keep for himself?

Tags: Gangster Au, age difference

Warnings: This fic has no explicit smut or anything, but WILL contain some overtly sexual themes and suggestive content, strong language, and age difference bc y'all know me 😪 So reader beware!

Y'all thought I was joking with this post huh lol

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You’d be surprised how much that little mantra has gotten you through.

Tonight, it comes in handy once more.

You scurry into place on stage, surrounded by an array of women around your age in exactly similar costumes. Glittering, skin tight leotards, sky high heels to pop out some ass, sheer mesh sections to show a little skin, and long, billowing feather accents mounted on your back and head for God knows what.

It’s your first night doing a showgirl routine at the infamous SunDowner casino, right here in shiny, shimmering Sin City itself. You’re one of three acts going on at the same time, all on different floors of the building. Your performance is taking place in the middle floor stage where the least amount of people are likely to see you, just in case you turn out to be a waste of a contract.

You take a look around you. The other women seem so confident… That, or they’re damn good at pretending. Makes sense, you think to yourself, everyone and their mother is a damn actor in this town. It’s all an act... When Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage”, you doubt this is what he had in mind.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker booms, announcing the start of the show. The lights power on over head, blindingly bright as some oldie style song starts up. Something for the oldsters, no doubt. But then again… aren’t you too?

The curtains shoot to the side on the beat and you can feel yourself pulled into auto pilot. You’ve practiced this dance so many times, it’s like second nature by now. So you dance. You parade around, covered in glitter and somehow managing to not break your neck in these heels while you strut around and roll your hips and shake your ass for some drunk old men with all fourteen of the other women beside you doing exactly the same thing.

And while you preform... Somewhere, way way up on the top floor, Russell Adler, owner of this whole joint and a couple city blocks to boot, returns to his office after taking a walk through the gambling pits. He’s caught two hustlers tonight alone, both of which were dealt with… severely.

The Sundowner doesn’t take kindly to thieves, and neither does he.

He dips into a side room within the office space behind a covertly placed door into a soundproof room. Adler switches on the lights and takes a seat in front of a huge stack of tv monitors. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, and watches the live feed from his many surveillance cameras. These are to keep an eye on his dealers and pit bosses rather than the customers, contrary to what most may think.

Can’t be too careful in this line of business, after all.

The room is silent except for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the large oak desk. He’s not one for glitz and garish glamour, but he is never without his four favorite rings.

They adorn his right hand, all made of polished platinum. Three are made in the shape of a thin, wound coil with some decorative knurling along the surface in a trapezoidal pattern, getting slightly thicker in size right up to the crown piece on his index finger. The largest ring features the hissing head of a viper with inset eyes made of two black diamonds.

Each ring is easily worth several thousand dollars, and not even close to the most expensive item on his person tonight, let alone in his wardrobe.

His eyes shift from left to right, scanning each screen quickly and judiciously as he taps and sips. For a moment, he lands on the showgirl performance. The quality of entertainment and the establishment itself is every bit as important as making sure everyone else stays in line and on their side of the house rules.

Adler checks the camera marker and notes that these are the new hires. Whatever he sees, he’ll make sure to cut them some slack.

Some.

One girl stumbles a bit, right there on stage. She’s out. Another girl brushes against the one beside her. Out. Then, towards the finale, two girls jump out of sync with the rest. He shakes his head and sighs. Where the fuck are his people getting these girls from?

He takes note of the ones he wants gone, then manages to swallow his frustration and watch the wrap up. Things end to light applause and before the curtain closes he taps a key on his board of switches to pause the feed. He counts up the dancers and take notes of each girl personally.

You know… Throughout that entire shit show, if memory serves, there was only one girl who hit all the marks.

Adler rewinds the feed and focuses on you in particular. He follows your every step and leap. Watching every move, studying every turn…

He was right. Perfect, throughout the whole routine. He reaches for his red phone and calls up the man in charge of the girl shows.

“Who’s the one in position seven, middle stage show?”

There’s a moment of silence and a rustling of paper before the other man replies with your full name, a little bit of your credentials, and the date of your hiring. “Something wrong sir?”

“Yes, send positions three, ten, eight, and twelve home. We have standards, for God’s sake”

“Of course sir-”

“And as for seven… I want her performing top stage next time”

More silence, and then a tentative, “...Yes sir”

Adler clicks the phone into the receiver and takes the last sip of his drink. Hmp, lucky number seven… His gaze lingers on you and your supple body only a moment longer. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip... then goes back to the rest of his cameras.

He’ll be interested to see if you can rise to the task he’s gifted to you.

When the last of your shows ends, you and the rest of the girls head back to the dressing room one more time tonight to get changed out of these contraptions they have you wearing. A stern looking man bursts into the room unannounced, he calls out four girls and sends them packing with no explanation given. His beady eyes scan the room and land on you, nearly giving you a heart attack as you brace to be cut as well.

“And you, seven… You’re performing in the VIP lounge next week. Don’t fuck this up”

And just like that, he leaves as quickly as he came, slamming the door behind him. The other girls turn to congratulate you, some bitterly, while you’re left reeling.

Playing the top floor, the “VIP lounge” is… huge.

Some girls perform here their whole lives and never get to see it. You’ve even heard that they hire foreign professionals, just to meet up to their standards. Up there you can make tips on top of your salary. Well, only for... private dances or pole shows, but still…

You go home that night wondering how such a thing is even possible, but soon decide to shake it off. Who cares how, all that matters is that the chance has come.

And you plan to rise to the occasion.

You spend your next two days off practicing and limbering up both with the other VIP dancers and on your own. Most of the women keep to themselves and you can tell they’re a bit resentful of your presence.

There’s no question about it, you’re the youngest one here and by default the least experienced. What gives you the right to be instantly promoted like that? If only you yourself knew.

Regardless, your first performance on the top floor is here before you know it. And things go… Fairly well, to be honest.

The routine is complex, but you can tell it’s been slowed down to give you a chance. The stage is bigger, the makeup more colorful, the costumes more revealing, and the lights brighter, and yet... you feel right at home. The nervousness has worn off by now and you’re a rising star on the stage.

After a few nights of proving yourself, you’re even hired for some private dances and given a chance on the pole.

The cash pool you take home gets bigger and bigger every night, and so does your audience.

But, for all the eyes on you, there’s one strange pair that bothers you the most…

You’re working a routine with the other girls tonight. The leading girl is out with a sprained ankle, so tonight you were given the honor to dance as the Primadona, front and center on the stage. You twirl and strut up to the front, the women behind you backing you up and mirroring your moves. They continue to spin and clear space in a geometric formation to give you room as you perform the finishing stunt.

With a deep breath of air, you perform an impressive high kick on the crescendo beat that transitions into a backwards somersault and ends in a split at center stage.

A roar of applause and whistles comes from the crowd of wealthy men and women watching you.

All except one.

You lock eyes with a lone gentleman sitting front and center at a round booth table in the dimly lit room. He takes a long drag on his cigarette and even behind his dark aviators you can feel his eyes on you. As though to confirm your suspicions, he lowers the glasses to the bridge of his nose, exhaling a plume of smoke as he stares directly into your irises.

He brings his cigarette back for another hit, the small flame highlighting a horrible looking scar that goes the length of his cheek, and as the curtain falls, his creased, glowing blue eyes are the last you see of him.

The truth is… Adler’s had his eyes on you ever since that first night on the cameras. Tonight, he came down just to see your show in person. You’re just as good as you are on camera. Perhaps, even better.

No... definitely better.

He’s been reviewing your track record as of late. You took ballet lessons ever since you were just four years old. Won several awards for dances and even some state level beauty pageants. Joined the dance club at your highschool and got a scholarship from it to put you through college. You’re trained classically, but it would appear the only jobs you’ve ever gotten are clubs, bars, and casinos just like this one.

Adler smirks to himself, thinking of your pretty young face as he takes another drag. Maybe you're not as innocent as you seem.

He can work with that...

#SFJKSJSLJ I CAN'T BELIVE I'M DOING THIS 😭😭#SOMEONE COME GET ME #don't read this y'all lmao #black ops cold war #call of duty #russell adler #russell adler x reader #gangster au

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years ago

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TXT Universe Theory: The Dream Chapter

Hello and welcome back to another one of my theories! This theory will be quite long and will take into account everything in the first chapter of TXT’s story. I won’t be doing Minisode 1 or either of the Chaos Chapters yet cause it will give us all a headache if I do, so yes, there will be things missing. Believe me, I know, I’m just pretending like I don’t know anything for the sake of my mind XD Let’s dive into the theory!

The Protagonists

Name: Choi Yeonjun

Keywords: Promise, guilty, sleepless, apricity

Association: Paranoid Park

Metamorphosis: Horns

Songs: Crown, Magic Island

Yeonjun is, perhaps, more relevant than his character wishes he was. Paranoid Park, the book (and perhaps also movie) he’s associated with, talks about a 16-year-old boy who accidentally kills a policeman and tries to cope with it while simultaneously hiding what he did. Yeonjun’s guilt can be seen almost everywhere. His Dream-Self grows horns during Nap of a Star, which are generally associated with evil and destruction, and in Crown he expresses his fear of being evil.

In the teasers for Magic Island he says “I think there’s someone else aside from us #itsmyfault”. And in the teasers for The Dream Chapter: Eternity he adds the hashtags #imscared #itwasjustajoke when revealing his association. He did something that makes him feel guilty. He possibly didn’t kill anyone (I mean, if anyone did, it’s most likely Beomgyu, but that’s not here nor there), but it hasn’t been revealed yet what he did do.

I associate Magic Island with him because it talks about promises and about the Odd Eye Cat, which I will talk about more in detail later, but suffice to say the Odd Eye Cat might have something against Yeonjun. There is a small chance that Yeonjun feels guilty about having forgotten their promise with the Star, since his word is promise. Everyone forgot, but maybe he’s more emotionally aware of it.

Name: Choi Soobin

Keywords: Tomorrow, invisible, understanding, apricity

Association: Le Doulos

Metamorphosis: Elongated ears

Songs: Eternally

Soobin is on the opposite side of the coin with Yeonjun. He too is aware about the promise with the Star, but in a very different way. He is perhaps what we would define as a traditional protagonist, as he can hear the voice of the Star well before anyone else can, even if he can’t remember the promise. The first time we see him perceiving the voice is in Magic Island, that is when he starts to feel separated from the group. He’s still unaware of it, but he knows something that the others don’t and that puts a wall between them. In the Magic Island teaser he uses the hashtag “#IThinkImTheOnlyOneWhosDifferent”, and in the Eternity concept photos he says “Why am I the only one having a hard time?” and “Everything is your fault”. He is also tagged as invisible, which alludes to the fact that he feels distanced from the others, and is also the only one to get no interactions on his posts. The fact that he’s blaming someone might be that he’s aware of the voice or that he knows someone in the group messed up.

Name: Choi Beomgyu

Keywords: Hope, unfair, relief, serenity

Association: The Catcher in the Rye

Metamorphosis: Spines on the back

Songs: ???

Beomgyu is an interesting if confusing character. Based on how he acts in the MVs, he seems to be rather headstrong and confident, much like the main character, Holden, of Catcher in the Rye, a story strongly related to growing up and leaving the innocence of childhood behind. Holden considers adults (and his life) to be quite unfair, doesn’t trust them, and wants to become a protector of the innocence of other children. However, much like Beomgyu, he’s rather headstrong and careless, moving forward without much consideration, which often gets him in trouble. These aspects can be seen reflected on the Magic Island Teaser, where he writes “What’s the problem? Let’s just do it. #rewind #hope #CantTrustAnyone, as well as the Port teasers from Eternity where he says things like “Who saw me that day?”, “We were all together then, right?” and “I don’t think this is the world I used to know” (which is tagged with “unfair”), and uses the hashtags #NothingToHide, #IsItMyFault?”. We do see him start the fire in both the Magic Island Teaser and MV, which might hint to the fact that he feels it’s unfair to blame him when they were all there, and he doesn’t actually believe himself to be at fault. He was just taking care of them.

Name: Kang Taehyun

Keywords: Clue, suspicious, breathe, serenity

Association: Philip Marlowe

Metamorphosis: Star eye

Songs: ???

Taehyun’s character is observant and prefers to stay on the sidelines to catch every detail before casting his judgement. In the Magic Island Teaser he says “There’s got to be a way out” with the hashtag #LetsThinkAboutIt, plus, in the Port Teasers from Eternity, he keeps a reasonable suspicion on his team members about who’s truly at fault and uses the hashtags #EverybodyLies and #IWantToKnowTheTruth. This ties in well with his associated character, Philip Marlowe, the private detective. Both characters keep a distance and analyze everything carefully, never resorting to violence. It is worth noting that he keeps Yeonjun’s teddy bear at the end of Run Away, which in the teasers is labelled as “clue”. Taehyun is always observing.

Name: Huening Kai

Keywords: Secret, lonely, longing, apricity

Association: Stand by me

Metamorphosis: Wings

Songs: Nap of a star

Huening Kai is perhaps one of the most complicated and mysterious characters in the story, since his role isn’t as established as the others. He’s constantly out of the loop about the situation that is happening, which is demonstrated by phrases like “What the hell is happening?” (Magic Island Teaser) and “What happened?” (‘Port’ Teasers) as well as the hashtags #OnTheSidelines and #IKnowNothing, as well as two of his keywords being secret and lonely. His associated media is also interesting, as Stand by me talks about a man remembering the trip he did with three of his friends when they were 12 to find the body of a missing boy. At the end of the movie, the main character Gordie, recalls his friends and comments on how much he’ll always miss them and how he’s never had friendships like that again. This raises the question if perhaps one of the boys would be the dead kid the others are trying to find. Kai being kept out of the loop could point to him being it, as he’s always trying to reach for them but can’t quite do it, however it could also be argued that either Yeonjun or Soobin could fill that space as well.

The Setting: The Real World vs The Dream World

Back on the very early BTS theories, a lot of us didn’t think time travel or time loops were the answer, but it turned out we were wrong. At first, when working on this theory, I wasn’t sure where I should draw the distinction between reality and fantasy. In the end, I’ve decided that everything is real but in different ways, and I’ve decided to make the distinction between the Real World and the Dream World; after all, this is called the Dream Chapter.

The Real World is, you guessed it, pretty much just our normal world. Nothing magical or physics-law-breaking to be seen here. The Dream World is, well, a world made of dreams. But remember I said everything is real (I know the names I gave the two realities contradict this, hit me up if you have better suggestions). Whatever happens in the Dream World is just as real as whatever happens in the Real World, it’s just in a different plane of existence. It might also be of interest to note that sometimes these worlds blend.

So, if everything is real in the Dream World, what is real in the Real World? This is a complicated question because even our characters struggle telling reality apart from the dreams, especially because the dreams aren’t just dreams. The fires that occur in Run Away and Can’t You See Me are very much symbolic, but them jumping into the Dream World through the subway in Magic Island is real. The visions they have in Eternally aren’t happening in the Real World either. It’s just a matter of what is supported through other clues and pieces of evidence, which I’ll try to provide.

The Story

So, you know, what is like… happening? Everything is extremely confusing and it took me a while to understand that pretty much all videos are happening like, at the same time? As in, it’s the same event but from different perspectives and slightly different intervals of time. So let’s try to lay down a cohesive timeline.

It all starts with the events narrated in Nap of a Star. When they were children, the five of them (or well, maybe I should say six) met through the Dream world and became such good friends that they promised to meet there again. However, as it happens, they grew up and forgot about it, meeting once again many years later through the school and the company without remembering each other.

While growing up, they have gone through many different things that have hurt and changed them, which manifested in their dream bodies as the “imperfections” that they all have. I believe these imperfections are tied to each of their characters: horns tend to represent evil, which ties in with Yeonjun feeling guilty and blaming himself for everything. Kai’s wings look angel-like, which fits his sweet personality who helps the “demon” (Yeonjun) and is always believing the best about his friends. Beomgyu is very defensive, which translates into his porcupine-like spines. Soobin is a good listener (plus he’s literally the first one to hear the Star’s voice) and Taehyun is good at observing the others. So these are all manifestations of how life has shaped them to be who they are now.

They become very good friends once again and get along well, nice! However, we know things are not perfect, and they have to confront a series of personal conflicts. Especially Yeonjun, who’s so overcome by the negativity in his life that he starts a fire that can’t be put out in Run Away. This fire is metaphorical, and represents all the pain and stress he’s been dealing with. So what do they do? They try to find an escape from all their troubles.

There’s two ways this could’ve happened: the first one is that they stumble with the Dream World by accident on the Run Away MV when they go in through the pool. This seems fitting because of their reactions. After that they research it and Soobin discovers that there’s a secret magical entrance at a train station, as we can see in the Sanctuary Photo Teasers from the Magic comeback in the official BigHit website. The other option is that this accidental discovery didn’t happen and they simply researched. This would turn their visit in Run Away into a “summary” of sorts of their first impression of the place.

[Translation:

Soobin: I saw how to find the hidden magic platform?

Soobin: When you close and open your eyes there, your dream becomes reality

Taehyun: Woah, cool

Taehyun: (not sure about this one) for real?

Soobin: Should we go together?]

Either way, they get there. Of course, as shown by the door being set on fire at the end of Run Away when Yeonjun looks at it, his worries aren’t entirely gone, but at least they’re under control now, or so it seems. This part of the video also ties in with the end of Nap of a Star. All of the children come together to help the “monster” and they reunite at the Dream World once again, awakening the Star.

After this, though, weird things begin to happen. Someone or something is trying to reach out to them, and causes them to have really strange dreams. This entity, presumably the Star as marked by the pieces of dialogue, even follows them to their practice room, and keeps begging them to remember them. Yes, I think the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are the same character (and I also think they represent MOA, in a way).

[Translation: Remember my name.]

Here’s where the visions in Eternally come into play. The individual vision each of them has is, physically speaking, nothing more than that: a vision or dream. So they start having these visions, and some of them, especially Soobin who keeps hearing the Star’s voice, start doubting their reality. Plus, weird things start happening in their practice room, so no doubt they end up hearing about the Practice Room Ghost.

They have a conversation about it on the subway, and Soobin goes to mention he had a weird dream but then he backtracks. Obviously, he’s talking about the vision we see in Eternally, because he even says he always wakes up crying from it. In a split second, they decide to stop at the Magic Island using the method that Soobin found previously, and they go have fun there.

[Translation:

Yeonjun: Did you hear about the practice room’s mirror ghost?

Beomgyu: *sland for shivering* A ghost? Wow

Taehyun: I heard about it. There’s no ghosts, you’re just tired and saw wrong.

Soobin: I’ve had weird dreams lately *cries* Maybe it was because I’m tired...

Kai: Did you have a scary dream again?

Soobin: (deleted message) In the dream we...

Yeonjun: Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything.

Beomgyu: What’s scary about this? If there’s a real ghost let’s go and check at night *laughs*

Kai: Hyungs, stop talking about scary things please *cries*

Taehyun: Beomgyu hyung is joking about this too??

Yeonjun: Should we just go to Ttukseom?]

Naturally, things go wrong, what else were we expecting? Their antics end up setting the magic forest on fire, until they end up destroying the whole Dream World, and it leads us to the start of Eternally. One thing I believe to be very interesting is how, when they’re trapped in the storm, Soobin keeps touching his ears, Kai touches his chest like in Nap of a Star, and Beomgyu touches his shoulder. Yeonjun and Taehyun aren’t properly shown but they probably also touch the affected places.

I would argue that Can’t You See Me? is also just a reinterpretation of the conflict they’re going through, both within themselves but also as a group, because they did just destroy their secret place. This is pretty much where the current timeline ends. I’m a bit uncertain if they’re trapped in the Dream World or outside of it without being able to go back, because Taehyun does mention wanting to go back in the Port teasers, but he doesn’t specify where. I want to bet that they’re trapped in the Dream World but I do need to analyze the Chaos Chapter better to decide that.

The Practice Room Star

Yes, this is a play on words, as I fully believe that the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are both the same entity. When they were kids, they made a promise with the Star, but they’ve forgotten it with time, and now that they have reunited and found their way into the Dream World again, the Star wants them back. The Star is probably a very powerful being, since they are able to interfere with the Real World to reach to them, enough to make them confused about their own reality. Their bond seems to be stronger with Soobin, who’s even able to hear them reach out on occasion. It’s uncertain what exactly it is that they want.

The Visions (Eternally MV)

The night of the last day & Song of a Star (Soobin’s visions)

Eternally starts at the end of Magic Island, with the Dream World completely in ruins. Eternally happens before Magic Island, so this dream Soobin has at the beginning is nothing but a prophecy. In the dream, he is holding a book, which we also see Beomgyu with. I think this book is the one they got the information about the Dream World during the Magic era, since the cover is very similar to the symbols we can see in Run Away.

I believe Song of a Star is the Star reaching out to him. He’s the first one to be able to hear the Star, as shown in Magic Island, and he also references the Star’s song in teachers. The kid he sees is probably the version of himself that first entered the Dream World as a kid (or maybe Kai lol), which might be why he wants to cry everytime he has that dream: it’s the nostalgia for a time he left behind.

Room No. 17 (Beomgyu’s vision)

While I’m not sure what the number 17 means yet, and my research on numerology yielded no results, this vision is particularly interesting to me. Through it we get to see Beomgyu’s more ‘brash’ nature as he defends the book that Soobin was seen holding previously. If that book is their key to the Dream World, then it makes a lot of sense that he’s trying to protect it. I’m not sure who the other person trying to stop him is, but it does kinda look like things didn’t go well for them after Beomgyu transformed.

Girl of Eternity (Huening Kai’s vision)

Perhaps the strangest of names for visions, this clearly represents how the rest of the members keep moving far away from Kai and become unreachable to him. He mentions several times how he’s clueless about what’s going on and wants to understand, but the rest of them continue to keep him in the dark, so he feels a distance growing between them, which might increase in the future.

Moratorium of Rest (Taehyun’s vision)

Taehyun’s vision is perhaps the most shocking of all, as it shows us Yeonjun sitting on a chair and covered in spines and purple “paint”. Yeonjun is sitting in the middle of a field of all sorts of violets, and Taehyun tries calling him before realizing the condition Yeonjun is in.

Promise (Yeonjun’s vision)

Yeonjun shares the misfortune with Taehyun of seeing his lifeless corpse, except his vision is much less artistic about it. After finding his body, he sees a fire from the corner of his eye, and right next to it, you guessed it, the odd-eyed cat. His vision in particular finishes with the phrase “I thought it was salvation, then.” And here is where things turn south.

Yeonjun’s promise and the Odd-Eye Cat

I have a very strong reason to believe that Yeonjun is in danger of dying an awful death, and it’s only partially because of the visions. Since Nap of a Star, Yeonjun has been followed by the vigilant eyes of the Odd-Eye Cat almost religiously, and it usually never brings good situations with it. It’s bad enough that the neck cut in Nap of a Star is replicated in Taehyun’s vision, that Soobin sees Yeonjun all bloody in Eternally, and that both Yeonjun and Taehyun see the former dead, but there might be some external clues that hint towards Yeonjun’s upcoming demise.

In the official BigHit website for TxT’s discography, where we found out that Soobin researched and figured out the way to go into the Dream World, we can find a picture of Yeonjun reading a book. In English, this book is called The Alchemaster’s Apprentice. This book narrates the story of a black cat who sells its soul to a sort of wizard in exchange for food, since he’s starving to death. The wizard agrees to fatten the cat for a month, after which it will kill it and use its fat for magical purposes.

The cat in this book doesn’t have heterochromia, however I found out some pagan groups in Eastern Europe believe that a different colored eye was a witch’s eye, meaning that the eye has literally been swapped out with a witch’s. I fully believe that Yeonjun made a deal he shouldn’t have, and the Odd-Eye Cat has been sent by whoever made the deal with him to check on him. It might just be that Yeonjun’s time is going to run out very soon, and the visions are trying to warn everyone of that.

Conclusion

Magic exists and TxT might have bitten more than they can chew because they wanted to run away from the problems of real life (relatable). Now, the Star that they made a promise with is trying to reach them, and maybe warn them about something that’s coming. The fact is that they’re not safe, especially Yeonjun, and things might turn south very quickly very soon.

I’ll try to come back soon with the Minisode 1 + Chaos Chapter Theory update, but for now, if you liked this, please interact with the post and check out my other theories here!

#txt #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #the star seekers #txt theory #tomorrow x together theory #tomorrow by together theory #txt yeonjun #txt soobin #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt kai #kpop #kpop theory #bluenicorn does theories

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mrs-cavill-wife · 4 years ago

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Forbidden Witch (2/?)

Pairing: Charles Brandon X Female Reader

Warning: Fantasy. Language. Forbidden Love. Tell me if I miss something.

Author's Note: This one is REALLY long chapter but here comes Charles Brandon, calm your tits! Hope you guys like it, if you do, please reblog it! I'm all ears to feedback and suggestions, thank you! DM or comment if you want to be on tag lists of Forbidden Witch!

Tag List: @lexyvaldez26 @thereisa8ella @natura1phenomenon @mrsavery @number1chonie @themanfromu @littlefreya @legendarywizarddetective @lovingbearherringhairdo @zealoushound @deangal-101 @everydaymultifandom @summersong69 @jgtfvhsg @tellingyouastory @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @pussyverson @oh-for-fic-sake @foodieforthoughts @fanficlover91 @r-t-doll @its--fandom--darling @poledancingdinos @hlkwrites @rmtndew

Riding for a few minutes, the boy was fun, he had many stories but I was grateful when he stopped chattering. I think this adventure exhausted him.

We arrived in Aluma and it was not difficult to find the castle, in a short time, we were well in freight for the construction. Aretuza was a beautiful place, but I had never seen such a magnificent castle, it was big, people were probably lost there. I approached the entrance and came across three soldiers, who immediately aimed the spears at me.

"Stop! Who's coming over there?"

I looked at them alerting them to stay quiet and I got off the horse slowly, the little prince was already asleep and I didn't want to find him. I think almost turning into monster food was a great experience, he needed to rest.

"Tsc-tsc. I don't think that's how you supposed to treat a lady. Especially when she saved and is in charge of the safety of her future king."

One of them approached to look closely and then looked at the others.

"Go, fast! Let your majesties know, Prince Eric has been found."

One of them ran inside the door, faster than a fox and I, even with the little boy, still had to wait outside. I looked at the blondie, and he slept soundly, hugging my Atlas, as if je were the most comfortable of the mattresses. Which is probably something he must have. Based on the aesthetics of the Castle, they must have everything from the good and the best, and even more.

"Eric! My little warrior!"

A voice, clearly desperate, screamed and, faster than her guard, the queen approached. A beautiful lady, blonde, thin but with curves, a beautiful green dress with gold details that matched with her hazel eyes and, of course, a simple but remarkable crown with rubies on the top of her head.

She approached me and the little boy, affectionately touching her face and then brushing her hair with her fingers. Her features were clear, pure happiness, relief and tears that I think, have been there since the little boy ran away. Eric woke up quickly with his mother touch and smiled softly, still tired.

She grabbed the boy, without caring about his soaked clothes, giving him a giant bear hug while sobbing.

"Oh my little prince, why? You know how worried your Mom is when you run away like that."

She said now looking at him with teary red eyes. I have to admit I felt bad for her.

"I think I'll have to put soldiers in to watch you again"

Again? Yeah, he didn't lie, and by the nickname "little warrior", I think he was really a little adventurer and a big runaway kid.

"Mom, I'm sorry and I'm fine. The witch saved me. Without her, I would be monster dinner right now."

Said the little troublemaker and after the brief moment of mother and son, the queen noticed me, gave a big smile and I bowed in respect, but she soon shook her head and held my hand.

"You, my young lady, no need to bow. You saved my son, my greatest treasure, you don't know how grateful I am. What's your name?"

I didn't knew exactly what to say. I looked at Eric and he just smiled comforting me.

"Oh.. your majesty.. I'm Cassandra, Cassandra of Boudicca.. and I just.. I just did what any sensible person would do."

"One way or another, me and your majesty, the king, we are very grateful, and by the way the king would love to meet you."

Meet me? Oh Lord, I can't say no to a queen, right? She's being so sweet with me but I'm even dressed properly to meet a king?

"My queen.. I.. well.."

"No no, I'll be offended if you refuse"

I sighed and nodded. The soldiers led the way and the queen took me into the huge castle, holding my right hand and with her son by the side, but within minutes he ran into a room with large wooden doors, apparently the throne room.

I thought we would get in there but the queen is still walking and I had no choice but to follow. We arrived at a door, it was opened and it was a beautiful room, with a huge bed that would probably fit three people, a nice balcony, a dressing table, a shelf with some books. The queen took me to the room on, had a huge mirror, a beautiful bathtub, prepared with some foam and next to it, a black girl with a simple dress, braided hair and a beautiful smile.

"This is Juliette, one of my chaperones, she's a wonderful lady, she will help you bathe and get ready."

The lady Juliette bowed at me and I looked surprised at the queen.

"Your majesty, that's not necessary, I.."

She cutted me before I could say something more.

"Darling, you can call me Madeline and maybe it's not necessary but I asked my man to treat your beautiful horse and I think you need too, besides.."

She grabbed a little cloth and gently rubbed under my nose wiping it. Something a mother would do. And I saw a little of blood when she pull away the cloth. Fire spells always consume a lot of my strength, occasionally, my nose would start bleeding and on the worst situation, I would pass out.

"..You look very exhausted, please, let my lady help you.."

Alright, maybe I need it and won't hurt, right?

I nodded causing the Queen and her lady to smile widely at me.

"Huh.. At least, lady Juliette, can she let me take care of my bath? By myself, please? I don't want to be disrespectful to your kindly, but I'm not used to undressing in front of anyone."

The queen smiled softly and nodded at Juliette and soon, she were our of bathroom.

"Darlin, one question. What's your favorite color?"

"Black!?"

I answered a little confused and she left me alone in the bathroom. I undressed and went into the warm water.

I would not feel comfortable naked in someone's presence, at all, even if I were a man.. I imagine that some people think I can be experient, I admit that I have a beautiful body, at least I think that I'm beautiful, attracts many masculine looks, I have been courted but always by men who saw me with a piece of meat or out of curiosity to know what spell a witch knows how to do between four walls. Pathetic.

The truth is that I have never been with a man, I have never fallen in love. When I was younger, I used to imagine what my future husband would be like. I imagined your details, I remember everything I liked.. He would be a tall man, defined body, fair, strong, sweet, romantic, noble, fair skin, blue eyes like the sky in a spring morning, dark hair like the night, short or maybe curly, lips chubby that would always leave me wanting more, hands that when..

Oh my God, stop Cassandra, you're not a teen anymore.. and it's not going to happen.

I blew away those stupid thoughts and got up from bathtub, grabbed a towel and wrapped around my body. When i arrived on room, I meet Lady Juliette, holding a box and next to her, on the bed, a simple, but for my eyes, a really gorgeous black dress.

"Oh my God, that's..?"

Lady Juliette laughed softly and opened the box, revealing a necklace.

"The queen want you to wear this for tonight. She thought you would like the style and it's also a gift for saving her son"

I don't wanted to sounds dramatic but it's beautiful, the dress, the necklace. I grabbed the dress and ran back to bathroom to get dressed. I admired myself on the mirror for a second and quickly, Juliette was behind me, helping me with the necklace.

"By your smile, I see you approved. The queen will love to know. Your majesties await for you on the throne room, I'll lead the way."

I nodded and followed Juliette to the throne room

Charles Brandon POV

Another beautiful morning. I woke up and rubbed my eyes, yawned getting up and wearing a shirt. I went to the window, opened the curtains and let the sunlight in. Oh, fresh air. Honestly, I could not have chosen a better place to be my home, in freight to a beautiful and immense river, around the splendid nature, far from the city, that noise makes me crazy, horses running, people screaming, songs out of tune, poor people begging for help and old "relationships" knocking on my door. That's peace right here.

I looked to the side. Seeing my wife, Phoebe and my little princess, my daughter Mackenzie. Christ, she is growing up so fast, she is only six years old now but she is a very smart little girl, loves to read, write and draw. She is the most special thing in the world for me.

I remember when Phoebe told me she was pregnant, four weeks after our wedding. I have always been a man who lives in the present, the now. But at that moment, I cared about the future, about me, about being a better man, something I never was and my wife suffered a lot from it, she would pretend to don't mind sleeping all alone almost every night, pretended not see me arriving late, often drunk, lipstick and sweat on my skin. Today I don't like to talk but, loyalty was never on my list of tasks, not before Phoebe give me someone so innocent, so sweet and pure, someone who depended on me. There's a Charles Brandon before Mackenzie, and another Charles Brandon after Mackenzie, and long before that, long before I met Phoebe, I was just a farmer's son.

How do I become Duke? Well, I was always in love with horses and swords, my father died when I was little and my mother was a queen's lady. I practically lived in the castle because of my mother's work, and this work, gave me a chance to see the soldiers training, fighting, riding, I just loved it and the captain ended up realizing my admiration, despite my young age, I became a helper, simply started carrying things, gave a little help with the horses. My dedication took me far, in a short time I cleaned the armor and then I was sharpening and testing the swords and when I really became a man, after my mother died of natural causes, with the blessing of King Edward, I became knights, soldier, one of the best.

Going to war was incredible for me, it seems sick but I liked to cut off heads, tear apart, see blood and defend the kingdom that treated me like a son. King Edward had a best friend, a king from a distant continent. King Alexander. On one of his visits, there was a feast, and that's when we met. That same night, there was an ambush in the castle and unfortunately, the king in which I served since I was a child, was murdered, as well as several soldiers, I remained standing, even injured and saved King Alexander.

After all that, King Edward gave me a lot of support. He knew it was a big loss for me, I lost a lot of friends and he knew that King Alexander was almost like a father to me. He knew of my dedication and love for the royal guard, for being a soldier and he invited me to be part of his soldiers. I was reluctant but after thinking a lot, I really had nothing else, nothing to lose so, the next day, I am already on my way to Aluma, his kingdom. There I met his wife, he told me they were trying to have a baby, they hoped it was a boy, an heir, I honestly, I always thought it was bullshit but I wouldn't say that, I was treated like a son.

For a few years, I exercised my place in the royal guard, I became a captain, and of course, the title attracted several lovers. Redheads, brunettes, blondes, fair skin, black skin, a whole meal full of colors and tastes.. each dawn I got up from a different bed, and "finally", I met Phoebe, a young lady, from a noble family. At first, it was just a carnal thing but it ended up becoming a passion, and soon, we were married. Being a captain, having a wife and being a party boy. My favorite things in life, but they were colliding. Phoebe suffered from wondering if I would return alive from a battle and the other night, she slept alone while I had fun with some harlot. It got to the point where I realized that it couldn't be like that anymore, I had affection for the woman who woke up more than I want in me, so I made the decision to relinquish my post as captain of the royal guard. King Alexander tried to insist that I stay, it's true that we ended up becoming great friends but he ended up understanding my decision.

As a thank you for years of loyalty to him and his best friend, he gave me a title and his best builders would build my home, wherever I wanted. I chose, Sullfolk, a beautiful continent, full of nature. I became Charles Brandon, the Duke of Sullfolk.

"Daddy?"

I leave my daydreams of the past, hearing that sweet voice of my dear Mackenzie. I looked at the bed and saw her with a sleepy face and a smile in my direction. I walked over, sitting next to her on the bed and placing a kiss on her messy hair.

"Good morning, sunshine. how did my little princess sleep?"

"Good daddy, are we traveling today, right?"

I laughed softly nodding at her. Since King Alexander sent a letter, inviting me and my family to Aluma, my little Mackenzie is not holding on to happiness, she would ask me every night, "When are we going? It's closer daddy?".

It would be her first trip, she would know the place of my stories that she loved to hear. It would be a visit, it had been a few years since Alexandre and I had seen each other and he said he would prepare a banquet, talk about the old days, it would be fun for my family, a chance for Mackenzie to know a new place and Phoebe would review the place where he was born. In fact, we were all in stasis.

"I'll get ready and tell our servants to put our breakfast. Wake up your mother and meet me in the dining room. After we eat, we go to the road."

She smiled widely causing me the same action of affection and I left the room.

#henrycavill rp #henry cavill x female reader #charles brandon x you #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader

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nightklok · 3 years ago

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Title: 'Cause I've been hurt so many times, I need someone who will try to soothe me, and not use me Pairing: Abigail Remeltindtdrinc/Pickles the Drummer Rating: E (For one future smut scene but chapter one is T-rated) Tags: Fake dating, Additional tags on AO3 Summary: Abigail considers herself great at her job; she knows how to make a successful album and her track record shows it. Dethklok proved to be the biggest challenge yet but she learned to overcome any hurdle thrown her way. However, what she didn’t anticipate was Seth’s second wedding. Specifically, Pickles’ mother getting on his case about finding a date to the wedding. Logically, she decides to be his fake date for the wedding. Just fake a relationship for a few months until the wedding then 'mutually' break it off; should be easy enough. It’s just the most renowned music producer and most popular musician fake dating. Surely no feelings or trouble will rise out of this.

Chapter One on Ao3 Here! Chapter one is also under the cut

Abigail had learned quickly that working with Dethklok was oftentimes like walking through those Halloween hay mazes blindfolded. Years upon years of working with pretentious celebrities, tight deadlines, and challenges that were thrown her way would never prepare her for working with them. For a group of five who lived together and knew each other the best, it didn’t always mean that they thought the same way and one would think they finally learned what worked best for them after years of working. But for some reason, they continuously went with the same method that never worked out because it seemed like the best to them. And clearly, it wasn’t.

She was no stranger to challenges so when Dethklok proved to be one, she did her usual process of breaking through to them. And that was asking questions to the right people. Charles stated it was just how they were. Knubbler said they were a bunch of dumb jackoffs so she had to hold the least amount of expectations for them...and lower it. Melmord had offered her weed because it would be the only way she could ever handle working with them. Twinkletits had suggested unresolved trauma and perhaps banana stickers would solve it.

She would find soon enough that everyone was right in their own suggestions but it didn’t mean she followed through with any of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that scheduling private sessions with each individual band member was a lot better compared to them being together only to yell at each other. Within a few days of the focus being more on private sessions, the difference being made was incredible. They seemed to thrive better under one-on-one time and having the group meetings at the end of the day so they could go over their progress had helped incredibly.

The only problem that she couldn’t solve was their old habits. Most of the time the sessions were either forgotten or recordings had to take a week or longer just to make sure the sound was perfect. They were still five people with different ideas of how the album could be better; it would be hard to find common ground and even harder to get them to be responsible under her schedule.

It didn’t mean every member was a thorn in her side though. Pickles and Skwisgaar were some of the more responsible ones compared to the rest. They’d sometimes forget to show up but that was expected.

Skwisgaar did have a certain way of speaking about music she couldn’t quite understand but she found herself slowly understanding him the more they recorded his sessions. It became like learning a new language but less on the fun part. Luckily, he was never one to speak much regardless; music did the talking for him and that was a good enough language for them to understand.

And Pickles, despite his years of experience under the spotlight, wasn’t the pretentious celebrity she expected him to be when they recorded together. He did his work without much complaint, left when she was satisfied and his first-week recording for a song would be the last as there generally wasn’t much left for him to retake. He normally trusted her judgment and any criticisms offered were never given for the sake of belittling her. It came from a place of experience and knowledge and it became something she quickly respected him for. He still occasionally missed his recordings, however, but with how time felt so rapid in getting things in order, she didn’t notice he actually began showing up more often.

He couldn’t show up one day due to a last-minute scheduling conflict that day and since he had a valid excuse, she didn’t expect him to show up at all. Deciding to not let those hours go to waste, she spent it contacting Knubbler for a quick meeting. He sent her the tracks he finished for her to listen to and she offered her critique. They were tossing track after track at one another to see what sticks and eventually something did. After sending him the latest track to fix-up by the end of their meeting, she checked her email to go more into the boring parts of her job.

She loved her job without a doubt but it didn’t mean there were some parts she actually dreaded doing. Emails were one of them; business language, having to wait up to a day for a response, and everything else just to show she was a professional despite her name being tied to so many influential things. Maybe she was famous enough to sign off her emails with a ‘k thx’ but didn't quite know if it was even worth the impending backlash soon after. She was known for her professionalism, not lack of.

But the album wouldn’t be finished for quite a while so she simply had to make do with what she could. Regardless, the marketing director wanted to listen to one of the demo songs. The day was winding down, she just had to spend an extra hour or two in the recording studio, then she could grab food, take a long bath and watch a movie until she fell asleep.

The motivation of food and a chance to relax was enough to look through her emails once more as she played the finished track. She didn’t hear the knock on the door but she did hear the door opening but didn’t turn around. She had expected it to be a klokateer doing some late cleaning.

“Abigail?” A voice all too familiar filled the silence. As she turned around, Pickles closed the door behind him quietly as if to not disturb her (even though he already did). He seemed a bit sheepish as he put his hands in his pockets to play off a calm attitude, “I just wanted to know if you still needed me.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you didn’t show up to a session, Pickles.” She answered a little too bluntly. It came off harsher and she had almost expected him to be offended by it but he shrugged instead, “Charles told me you wouldn’t have been able to come today, anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true I have bailed out on a few sessions, but I was planning on showing up to today’s session. I promise.”

She folded her arms, leaning back against the chair. It was new territory having Pickles actually show up when he wasn’t meant to. It didn’t seem like he was there for anything else too, “And you really mean that?”

He casually held up his right hand in a three-finger salute, “Scout’s honor...if I was a Boy Scout, that is. But I’m here now. That should be enough proof, right?” He grinned at her before he walked to the recording booth, “I got this beat stuck in my head I wanna get out of my system. Won’t take too much of your time.”

She glanced at the clock; it was still early enough to record a few takes and he did seem excited to record. Might as well give some time to humor him, “Alright, you get one hour to impress me.”

“I’ll make it count,” He finished her sentence as he closed the door. Taking the drumsticks and headphones, he took a seat in front of the drum kit and quickly prepared, “This is for uhhh...what did we call 8?”

“ Uncensor My Songs On The Radio You Fucking Tool. ”

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, I think I figured out why it doesn’t fit on my end. Can you play from the beginning?”

“Sure, get ready in five seconds” It took just a few clicks to get to the song he wanted. She let the metronome play for just a few seconds for him to get the beat before hitting the record button as soon as the song played.

As soon as the song played, Pickles began without hesitation. The sound was much different compared to his other takes...and it fit perfectly as he had said. She waited though; listened to every hit and snare intensely for a mistake to come and screw his take over. But that moment never happened and before she knew it the song was over.

“How did I do?” He grinned at her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm, “Not bad for one take, right?”

Impressive. “Not bad at all. I think this might be just the parts we needed to get the song to be finally done,” She answered as she hit the record button to pause the recording. She made sure to save the file and backed up the file into her work email. (Charles had requested she make backup copies of each recording without the boys’ knowledge when she began working. Just in case).

She watched as Pickles removed his headphones but quickly stopped him, “It’s great but I think another take would be good to have, right?”

“Oh C’mon! Isn’t it great as it is?!” He pleaded. He was foolish to think he could impress her with just one take.

“I’m not denying that it’s great but I’m sure you would be able to do another take if you got it all memorized, right?” She answered. The tone of her voice just shifted slightly enough to indicate a challenge and that’s all that Pickles needed to hear from her.

“Don’t think I can do it, huh?” He smiled back at her as he put the headphones back on. It was a challenge he could easily win, after all, but she was never one to even let him believe it would be easy. The rush of it and the feeling of adrenaline starting to kick in made it all the more tempting, “Well get the song playing again. I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“You’re gonna end up tiring yourself out, Pickles.”

“You can let me off the hook then if you’re so worried about me.” He answered with the signature lopsided grin he gave out as freely as sweets, “I think there are some restaurants around that we can go to if you still haven’t eaten yet.”

Bargaining and banter had become something that they learned to communicate with. If there was anyone else in the room, there was no way she would be talking so loosely with him. They were alone however and would be for a long time so it became easier to shake off the layer of professionalism she had to keep up with all day. However, the remaining part of her brain that was still in work mode rejected his offer despite the temptation being far too great, “Not a chance; you walked yourself into this one...But if you wow me just early enough, I might take you up on your offer.”

“Get the song playing again and tell me when to stop.”

The truth was she was already satisfied by the third take but she did let him keep going at least two more times for good measure. By the time she said he was finished, Pickles’ legs were sore but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. Five takes weren’t bad at all and he found himself confident in the progress.

“Not bad, Pickles. I think there’s something there I can take for the recording.” Abigail answered with a grin that he tiredly returned.

“Hm, not satisfied yet, or just wanna keep my ego down?”

“Maybe.” She watched him put the headphones and drumsticks away before exiting the recording studio.

“I wanna hear it though. Play the best track.” He went to the mini-fridge and offered her a beer which she declined.

“Just get me a coke. The drink, I mean. I’ll play the best track in a second,” She had already labeled the track files by a number scale and taken notes so she didn’t need to relisten. He set the can of coke beside her as he watched her take a few moments to look through the notes before finally deciding on the best track. She quickly spliced it in with the demo and hit play.

Pickles already flopped on the couch, on his second can of beer already somehow (She didn’t know if it was impressive or horrifying). He didn’t say anything while the song played, leaned back against the couch. When it ended he asked, “Is that the best one?”

“Well, I think it is. It’s the one that doesn’t even need much editing. The others are just as great too, in all honesty,” She answered as she checked her notes briefly. She could go into great detail over the tracks, maybe even explain why the tracks were a perfect fit for a song but she didn’t want to ramble. And besides, he seemed a little bit bothered, “But what do you think?”

“Hm. Not as good as I thought it would be,” He said a little sullenly, “Nate’s gonna wanna delete it. I just know it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think he’d want you to delete them especially when he knows you’re having a hard time with this song. They’re all pretty good but if you want to talk with Knubbler since he’ll be doing most of the editing, just give him a call tomorrow.”

“Do you even think it’s good?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t satisfied enough, I would’ve had you still record a few more takes.”

That was an answer that seemed to satisfy him at least as he didn’t say anything else in retaliation. He only asked to play the track again, and finished his second can of beer, “I guess if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it. It’s probably getting late isn’t it?”

“Come in tomorrow and you can listen to it again. If you really aren’t satisfied with it, you can try again,” She offered. She checked at her watch briefly; 10:45 PM. How has it been almost two hours already?

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. We can put a stop to it for now. But uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

She shrugged, “You’re not, Pickles. Don’t worry about it. I would’ve left around this time anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.” With a shrug, he shifted his mood and stood up. He didn’t seem to sulk longer than he usually did, probably because it was already late and they were both tired, “Did you still wanna eat?”

“Don’t you usually eat with your bandmates?” Usually, mealtimes were the quickest and easiest ways to find them if she needed to. Having memorized that schedule, she knew that dinner was about a few hours ago...or a few hours from now depending on what they did that day.

“Yeah but not today; Offdensen really had us doing interviews all fuckin’ day. I don’t think I’ve eaten lunch yet and I guess you didn’t get dinner either?”

“Nope. I was planning to, anyway.” A late dinner invitation was not rare to get but it was rarer to get one by someone she wouldn’t mind having dinner with. Their relationship with each other was always professional, and he also had years of experience in the music business outside Dethklok. It always felt refreshing to talk to someone who shared the same interests as her. She put her laptop away in her briefcase once she saved all her files; her night was officially done, “Is there someone even able to make dinner at this time?”

“There should be. If not, there are probably leftovers in the fridge. Or we can order pizza, it’s completely your call.”

She slung the briefcase over her shoulder, following him to the hallway. After shutting and locking the door to the recording studio (Charles gave the only keys to her and Knubbler), she walked with him to the kitchen where the conversation of dinner slowly shifted to music and almost anything they could cram in the next two hours.

And by the end of that night, the late dinner invitations became frequent and she had accepted every single one. He always hung around by her last hour of work, even if it meant staying up late. It only meant ordering food to be delivered to them as Pickles convinced her to watch a film she hadn’t seen in years or her convincing him to watch one of her favorite guilty pleasure sitcoms.

For the most part, it was assumed she was just working with him on the album. No one really needed to know about the breaks where they shared a beer and gossiped about the celebrities they had interacted with before. As far as Knubbler and everyone knew, she was using most of the two hours to perfect his recording.

But just a few months later, the hangouts and late-night dinner invitations stopped in their tracks with no warning whatsoever.

She wondered at first if it was something she had done. But then it began affecting his work and it was clear he was distracted about something. She knew and learned enough about him that he was a perfectionist when it came to the drums; he was always a person who wanted to do his job correctly when it came to something he really did care about at the end of the day. Music was his passion, after all. And if he didn’t have passion for the things he cared about the most, then something was going on.

“Do you want to take a break, Pickles?” She asked. It was currently her fifth time asking the same question that week alone.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He answered as he picked up his drums and waited for her to press record.

She didn’t say anything else after that and she let him leave after a few hours. He left before she could get a word out and she would be met with the rising feeling that something bad was about to happen and recordings that not even Knubbler could salvage.

A few days later, she figured out what happened. It took a text from the staff group chat and an email that contained a video to piece the puzzle together.

“Hey, Neon Genesis Evan gail ion. It’s me, your coworker, Seth.”

She did not watch the rest of the video (sober) and instead asked about the video in the group chat. Seth was never invited to the chat for the same reason Melmord was not invited to the second wedding of Seth and whatever poor woman he got roped up with.

Just by that video and conversation, she had connected why Pickles might be upset. It had something to do with the wedding, sure, but what specifically about it? Was it that he had known the girl Seth planned to marry? She wanted to ask so many questions but limited herself to three. But even those three questions were quickly narrowed down to one, then none at all when she realized it would be harder to pry anything out of him.

But, as advised by Knubbler, it was best to keep going. He’d probably breakthrough midway through a recording session. Being someone who knew to listen to others, she listened to his advice for at least a few more days.

She waited those few days and then two more. It was clear whatever was bothering him was still going to continue bothering him until the end of time probably. She had to talk to him against their better judgments; it felt like the only option available to her.

It was a session that lasted over seven hours and she was sure both of them were getting frustrated on their own ends. No amount of coffee or whiskey could even cure the boredom and annoyance that was of a session that would lead to nowhere. It was better to just cut things short and talk about it. If not even the drums could help him feel better, how serious was the situation?

She pressed the intercom button when the song finished and she immediately hit delete. There was no way to salvage the song, “Pickles, would you mind if we talk?”

His expression was perplexed for a moment before he resigned to his fate, not giving much of a protest, “Alright,” he answered with a sigh. He set his drumsticks down as he walked out of the booth, taking a seat by the couch.

She was never all that good at talking to people about feelings in all honesty. And he seemed like a rather emotional guy, to begin with. There were a few moments of awkward silence between them as she tried to find what a good way to start the conversation would be, “I think we know that you seem distracted lately. What’s been bothering you?”

And despite all her mental preparations that he would find it hard to pry open, he actually opened up quite honestly, “Well you know about the wedding right?”

“Yeah, he invited me too.” She answered as she thought back to the weird video message Seth had sent her. She wondered if she should even make a comment about that but decided against it, “You don’t want him to get married or something?”

“I don’t care about that. He could get married as many times as he wants; He’s still getting a fucking Vitamix. But it’s not about that,” He answered, “It’s my mom. She’s been blowing up my phone all week asking about who I’m bringing with me to Seth’s wedding. Keeps talking about how I should settle down, find someone to marry, or whatever. But I don’t have the time to date!”

She stared at him and didn’t say a single word until he caved in.

“Okay, time’s not the problem but dating while you’re this famous is fucking hard. You must’ve seen that public divorce in ‘89 right?”

She definitely remembered. She was on college radio at the time and had taken over someone’s show. It was either some debate or public opinion show and that was probably one of the more shows she had ever experienced. Did it help that she was a fan of his music back in the day? No, but she would not admit that “I kind of knew about it. It sounded like it was an awful divorce for you. But you were only nineteen, weren’t you? You shouldn't stop yourself from dating for something that happened when you were just a teen.”

“Nineteen, thirty-five, ninety, does it matter? It was as awful behind the scenes as it was in public. I’m not gonna bore you with that but basically, I’m done with dating. And she won’t see that!”

“Well...maybe one of your bandmates can be your date?” She offered.

“Nah, been there, done that, it didn’t work out. And plus, would you even fake date any of them?”

She thought for a moment, “Yeah, smart choice.”

“It’s gotta be someone she has never met before to make it more believable.”

“I see,” Abigail paused. She had waited, expecting almost, for Pickles to look at her, drop the ‘except…’, and plead for her to be his fake date but he didn’t. He only reached into the mini-fridge to pull out a beer, offering one to Abigail who accepted. She didn’t like the beer and had to hide her disgusted look as she took a sip and tried to set it down casually.

The conversation had died out like that. She kept on sipping the beer and hoping he would say something. But he didn’t and it became clear that she had to be the one to speak up. There was only one possible solution to it and it felt like the most obvious., “If you can’t find anyone else, I can be your date.” She offered.

Pickles looked at her like she had asked him to play the drums with his mouth, “I respect you too much to get you involved with my family. They’re like...leeches that suck the fuckin’ life out of you! This is a me problem, you don’t need to fix that. ”

“Well...it’s affecting your drumming too.” she pointed out as she looked at him, “And trust me, I know what I’m getting into. I can handle it, Pickles. I work for Dethklok and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than just a wedding party. I appreciate your concern, but let me help.”

“Abigail...” He almost pleaded.

“I owe you, remember?”

He clearly did remember, “but-”

“He invited me anyway, Pickles. I’m still going out of work obligations; I promise this won’t bother me at all.”

“But you know it’s gonna have to be a lot more than just going to my brother’s wedding right? My mom will want to meet you and who knows what other folks are gonna try and meet you too.”

That was one thing more terrifying than the branding ceremony. Was it even worth it to complete the album?, “Then basically we’d just be faking a relationship until the ceremony?”

“I guess yeah...and that’s...three months from now? You really don’t-”

“As I said, I know what I’m getting into. I want to help you and if we have to do this for a week, months, or a year, it’s okay with me.”

Pickles said nothing for the longest time. He held the half-empty can of beer, nulling over his options that probably didn’t help with him being slightly intoxicated, “You won’t hate me right?”

It caught her off guard almost but she remained on track, “Of course not. I promise,” If she hated him, that would mean there would be no more all-nighters together but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Okay. Just so you know you can back out of this anytime, I won’t be offended if you do.” He said finally and that had sealed the deal, “But we need to keep this a secret which I know is probably obvious enough. If the guys find out, they’ll never stop teasing us about it.”

“But if all we really need to do is just please your parents, I don’t think that will be a problem. Don’t worry about me, Pickles; it’ll be fine. I promise that I will back out if I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was clear he was unsure still and she didn’t know how much more convincing he would really need. But perhaps that was something to let sit and process; and hopefully, in time, he’d warm up to the idea enough to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

There was nothing else she could really do at this point she knew. It was a quick resolution but a slow payoff and she had done what she could for the day, "How about you take the rest of the day off? If you wanna give recording the song a shot tomorrow, we can."

“Alright,” He threw out the half-finished beer can, beer spilled from the can, some of it splashing into the sides of the trash can and leaving a potent smell of beer. She made a reminder to herself to have a klokateer replace the trash can later. But it would be quickly forgotten when he spoke up again, “I uh, appreciate it, Abigail. I really do."

"It's not a problem at all. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need anything?"

"I do, yeah, and uh the same right back," He paused for a moment, "I'll take you out to dinner sometime if you want. It's the least I can do."

"That would be nice but I don't need a big fancy dinner. I'm fine eating here, and watching a movie." She answered. She wanted to speak more but her phone began ringing and she saw that it was from Charles, "I should probably take this."

"Oh yeah, go ahead. And uh, if you wanna grab some dinner again you know where to find me. I'm sorry I bailed out on you this week, I'll make it up to you." He quickly left before she could speak.

All alone in the studio, she took a moment to compose herself. Refusing to give herself even more time to let what she had gotten herself into sink in, she answered the phone.

It was only three months but somehow this new task felt like it would end up being the hardest task yet. But, she had an album to finish. It was just part of the job, right?

#metalocalypse #abigail remeltindtdrinc #pickles the drummer #picklegail #my writing #goddd im not sure about this but this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly...4 months now its time to release it sdflj

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

Text

Basement Of No Hope (Rob Benedict x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Summary: Louden Swain had a few upcoming gigs & you decided to rent a house in the area. Jason & you tagged along, being the opening act for each show. The house was big, six bedrooms, enough for everyone. When you could not agree on who would occupy which room, you let a good old game of rock paper scissors decide for you. Today was your lucky day, apparently.

Words: 2,430

Warnings: language, mentions of nightmare (I had to bring some angst in there, okay?), Rob being dramatic af (other people write songs about heartbreak, dude, but it’s alright), strong dislike of basements (from personal experience lmao), soooo much fluff it’s kinda disgusting

Inspired by: “Basement Of No Hope” by Louden Swain (aka Robbie & his dramatic ass writing a song because he lost a game of rock paper scissors – no, really…if you haven’t watched the video, pls do, it’s hilarious)

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were at the airport in Nashville, currently waiting on your luggage. The flight had been rather relaxing, you even managed to get an hour or two of sleep in. Rob’s shoulder was used as a pillow but he did not seem to mind. Here you were, with the Swain boys & Jason. The following nights, Louden Swain had multiple gigs lined up, all in the area. They had asked Jason & you to join, to be their opening act. Having a few songs on your own & being more than comfortable to perform next to Jason, you agreed. Of course you did. Rob & you were…something, after all. Neither of you knew what you were but you were something. Best friends, but you were best friends with all of the boys. The only difference was that you did not want to kiss them when you looked them in the eyes. Rob was the exception. Everyone was aware of your crush on him. Everyone but him, it seemed.

Two vans were waiting for you all. They were supposed to bring you to your accommodation for the next few days. Rob, Jason & you were occupying one car while Billy, Stephen & Mike seated themselves in the other. Most people were confused because you only ever hung out with men but you did have girlfriends, too. Well, they were Rob’s friends first but you guys hit it off immediately. Besides, it was great to hang out with people who shared your passion for music. Your music career was still in the starting blocks but you had released your debut EP not too long ago & luckily, a lot of Louden Swain’s fans loved your music as well.

It was late when you arrived at your destination. Lazily, everyone dragged their suitcases inside, putting them in the entrance area. The moment you wanted to grab your stuff, Rob beat you to it, sent you a wink & left you standing outside, dumbfounded. He could be such a dork. After shaking your head & chuckling quietly to yourself, you followed him inside. Looked like you were interrupting a heated discussion. Listening to it for a few moments, you could make out that apparently, they were arguing about who would get what room to sleep in. Rolling your eyes, you were annoyed by their childish behavior. It was moments like this where you asked yourself if they were grown ass men or defiant children. Today, it was the latter.

“Guys, guys, guys. Can y’all turn it down for a second?” your voice was loud but not loud enough for them to hear you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tried again, this time literally yelling.

“GUYS! SHUT UP FOR FUCKS SAKE!” like a switch, the discussion died down & five pairs of eyes were looking at you.

“Thanks. Okay, let’s try this again, shall we? Billy, what’s the matter?” knowing Billy was usually the one to keep it cool in situations like these, you turned to him & waited for his answer.

“Really? You’re asking him?” Rob chimed in. Rolling your eyes once more, you focused on Billy, waiting for his explanation.

“So, there are six bedrooms for six people, right?” you nodded, signaling him that you understood & he continued. “Stephen checked all of them. They are okay. All except one. The one in the basement. It’s…creepy.” he finished. Letting out a quick laugh, you were not sure if he was kidding or not. But his look told you that he was being serious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you mumbled under your breath.

“No, really, (Y/N). You gotta check it out. It’s bad.” Jason spoke up & motioned for you to follow him. Heading downstairs you were shocked to say the least. Okay, you had to admit, it was not luxurious whatsoever. The exact opposite. When you made your way back to the entrance area, the boys were waiting for you reaction.

“Okay, I get it. But guys, come on, it’s late…Can’t we just go to bed &, I don’t know, deal with this later?” an exhausted sigh escaped you.

“Sure, you can take the bedroom in the basement then.” Stephen suggested.

“Forget it. I won’t sleep down there. Dude, I’m scared of basements, you know that.” being annoyed at Stephen for even bringing this up. Good Lord, this was bound to be a long night.

“Let’s play rock paper scissors to decide.” Mike said after a few seconds of silence. Rob eyed him carefully, not really knowing if he was serious or not. But before you had enough time to tell them how stupid Mike’s idea was, the other four agreed with him.

You were standing in a circle, ready to beat the boys. As long as you did not have to sleep in the basement, you were good to go. Literally every other room would do. Stephen shortly explained the rules. Getting in position, you started with your first round. The first round ended quickly. Everyone won against Rob & when the realization set in, you all started laughing so hard that tears made their way down your cheeks almost instantly. Rob cursed & complained about how everyone had cheated which made this entire thing even funnier. He was pissed. Like, deeply pissed. And even though you felt a little amount of pity for him, the majority of you was just happy that you did not have to reside in that creepy ass bedroom downstairs. Rob grabbed his stuff & made his way downstairs, not longer caring about the rest of the game.

“Go fuck yourself.” was the last thing you heard from him. Again, you all ended up laughing like crazy. This was too good to be true.

Billy lost next, followed by Mike & Jason which left Stephen & you for the final battle. The first round went to Stephen. You won the second one. The last one would settle who would get to sleep in a nice king-size bed. The second place would get a great room, too, so whatever was about to happen…it would be a win-win situation. The others were circling you, cheering for the both of you. Stephen told you to close your eyes, he would do the same, so that the others knew the outcome before you. The damage was done, you went for scissors.

“Guess (Y/N) gets her well needed beauty sleep.” Billy joked & you opened your eyes. Stephen lost with paper. But before you performed a little winning dance, you made sure to playingly slap Billy for his awful joke.

“No need for beauty sleep, the princess is always looking flawless.” swaying your hips when you left for your earned room, carrying your suitcase with you. It was only then when you realized how heavy you had actually packed. In no way would you ask any of the guys to carry your luggage upstairs. Well, there was one person you would actually ask but this certain someone was residing in hell aka his incredible basement bedroom for the time being.

Wanting to experience the softness of the mattress as fast as possible, you quickly went to the bathroom to take a quick shower & to brush your teeth. You wrapped the towel around your body & walked back into your room to search for a suiting t-shirt to sleep in. In the end, you decided on one of Rob’s old shirts you stole from him a while ago. He was never wearing it anyway & it was freaking comfortable, so why not? Pushing it over your head, you did not bother with pants. The shirt was too big on you & you were in this room alone. A yawn escaped you & only a second later, the warmth of the bed was embracing you.

It did not take long before you shot up from your bed, breathing heavily. Shit, another nightmare. Usually, you could handle them just fine. Especially when you were with other people, they pretty much disappeared. You were confused why you had experienced one now. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you could not remember what it was about but since your heart was beating incredibly fast, you assumed it had been a bad one. There was no way you could be alone for the rest of the night. It was not something new to you to share a hotel room or a bed with one of the guys. Sometimes it was just easier, especially at Conventions, to share with another person in order to not take up too many rooms. Mostly, though, you did end up with Rob.

Looking to your door, you were contemplating going to him. But nope, that was not happening. He was sleeping in the basement & while basements themselves creeped you out, the thought of actually having to walk through the entire house by yourself scared you even more. Checking your phone for the time, you were shocked when it read 3:00 am. Shit, if you were not about to tell anyone about your nightmare you might as well not get any more sleep this night. The upcoming gig came into your mind & you knew you had to be well rested to perform perfectly.

It seemed like your hands were moving by themselves & all of a sudden you were calling Rob. Which was stupid, really. He would not hear his phone when he was asleep but you were desperate & still pretty shaken up from your previous nightmare.

“Yeah?” his sleepy voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Robbie?” your voice was small & you did not think it was possible, but your voice cracked by just saying his name. Damn nightmare.

“(Y/N)? You alright?” hearing bedsheets shuffling, you assumed Rob was sitting up. His voice was filled with concern. He knew you would not call for no reason, especially not in the middle of the night & definitely not when you were in the same house.

“Um…I-I had a nightmare & I just…I don’t even know why I’m calling you. I’m sor-“

“What room are you staying in?” right, he did not know because he was too pissed off to stay for the rest of that stupid game.

“The one with the king-size.” you mumbled, not really sure what he was getting at.

“Got it.” the call ended & you were left confused. Would he come to you?

The door squeaked open slightly after a soft knock. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark & you could see Rob’s silhouette in the doorway. He began walking over to you & took a seat on the bed. Immediately, you could feel his arms wrapping around your frame & pulling you close to his body. Being in his presence calmed you down in an instant & for a while, he just held you without saying anything.

“Looks like you won the game.” Rob’s whisper broke the silence in the room. You let out a chuckle & he did the same.

“Yeah, & you’re lucky enough I saved you from that hell hole. I’m sure that bed was uncomfortable as shit.” pulling away, you looked at his face. The darkness did not hide his features & you were happy that he was here with you right now.

“It was, which is why I haven’t slept yet.” he admitted with a laugh.

“You serious?”

“Yep. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucking tired…Do you wanna talk about it?” his eyes locked with yours & that was the point when you were sure that you were in love with him. The way he cared for you, genuinely cared, would forever be a mystery to you.

“I can’t remember what I saw but it was…bad.” sighing frustratedly. “I just knew I didn’t wanna be alone & I sure as hell didn’t wanna wander around the house all by myself. That’s why I called you.”

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?” because he would have stayed awake with you if that was what you needed.

“Yeah, now that you’re here…” if it were not for the dark room, Rob would have seen your blush. He simply nodded & pulled you down with him. His arm was draped over your waist & he hugged you close to his chest. A soft kiss was pressed onto your shoulder & this simple action sent goosebumps down your skin.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” he mumbled into your neck.

“Night.” you whispered & soon enough, the both of you were fast asleep.

A loud voice woke you from your peaceful slumber. Whoever it was was about to get punched.

“Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty. Billy is making breakf-…Robbie?” of course it was Jason. He knew you could not stay mad at him & this man had never learned how to knock.

“Do I even wanna know? Um, you know what? I don’t…Anyway, breakfast is about to be done. At least I don’t have to go to the basement to wake Rob now.” the last part sounded farther in the distance because Jason was already turning around & walking out of your room. You could feel a chuckle behind you & soon, you found yourself laughing with Rob.

“Good morning, slept well?” turning around in his arms, you stared into perfectly blue eyes. When he saw you, he could not help the smile that was forming on his face.

“How could I not when you were literally next to me?” you blushed at his words. He could be so cute sometimes, it really was disgusting.

Getting up from the bed after a few more minutes of just enjoying being in Rob’s arms, he let out a whistle.

“My shirt looks good on you.” you brushed off the warmth that was spreading on your cheeks with a shake of your head.

“I’d hurry up, Robbie. Billy’s pancakes are to die for. Your fault if you’re too late.” you winked at him & put on some sweatpants before leaving Rob alone in the room. The two of you had spent nights sharing a bed before but there was never cuddling involved. Usually, you would stay on your sides & that was about it. Tonight changed everything. He knew you could tell as well. And that change was for the better. It was bound to happen. Literally everyone but you knew it would happen sooner or later. And here you were, after so long of keeping your feelings pushed down, finally moving into the right direction. All of it happened because a damn game of rock paper scissors...

Published (04/01/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @chelseashurley, @traubellianfirebuilder (thanks for your support <3)

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years ago

Text

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,” Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a– such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added: “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,” his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

“Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird” instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #my writing

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reallybadfeeling · 3 years ago

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My Obikin Playlist Masterpost Part 2

Not that anybody was really waiting for this, but here is the second part of the playlist with an explanation for each song. If you are interested in reading my rant on the first 20 songs, you can check the post I made last week HERE.

Without further ado, I'll leave you to my rant for songs 21 to 40.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

❧ One in a Million - Midnight to Monaco

Tears fall like acid rain and it burns me through the skin It's taken everything from me, I've lost my innocence The bats brings the night today, watch them turn the sky to black Like a gun that fires that sound again Frightens me until the bitter end I can't keep holding on And I hide away I need it to keep me from breaking down And I'm under Baby I can't carry on, dead and I've been buried on Baby, I was one in a million Even if our love was strong, take me down and let it fall Baby, I was one in a million And I was holding, burning, waking, turning Tasting blood and losing time I want to get a hold of myself Baby, I was one in a million [...] And I need it to keep me from thinking I won't find my wings no more

This entire song is about how someone's life gets absolutely destroyed by drug abuse. Or at least, that's how I always interpreted this. But drug abuse always makes me think about any kind of obsessions doing exactly the same thing. So I love this song for Anakin in particular. That "I was one in a million" giving me this "Chosen One" vibe. Like he got lost on the way to what he was supposed to be, and now that he's fallen he has no clue how to get back to what he was supposed to be, that one in a million.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Losing My Religion - R.E.M.

The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no, I've said too much I set it up That's me in the corner That's me in the spotlight Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no, I've said too much I haven't said enough [...] Every whisper, of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions Trying to keep an eye on you Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool [...] Consider this the hint of the century Consider this the slip That brought me to my knees, failed

Another classic song that is in basically any ships' playlist. And it fits so much with unrequited love (or pining in general). How can I not think of Obi-Wan trying desperately to be a good Jedi while he's well aware of his feelings for Anakin?

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Hurt Me - Lapsley

Can't look at you the same way, anticipatin' heartbreak And I know, and I know, and I know I'm puttin' on a brave face to meet you in the same place And I know, and I know, and I know Gotta let my mind find another space 'Cause I heard these scars never go away And now I'm runnin' out of ways to numb the pain So if you're gonna hurt Why don't you hurt me a little bit more? Just dig a little deeper Push a little harder than before [...] Like breathing underwater, what's the law and order? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know You're sitting in a corner, hiding til it's over And it shows, and it shows, and it shows Buildin' up my walls just to tear them down Tell me that it's love, force me to drown Buildin' up my walls just to tear them down Tell me that it's love And I thought you said you still loved me [...] And I'm counting down the seconds that we have I can see the end in sight, at last So if you're gonna hurt me Why don't you hurt me a little bit more?

This entire song makes me think of one of those situations where both of them are pining and convinced that the other is about to tell them something that would end up breaking their heart. Basically first half is Obi-Wan knowing from the start that they won't work, maybe because he thinks Anakin is in love with Padmé and that's what Anakin wants to talk about; second half is Anakin, sure that Obi-Wan would deny having feelings for him because of how much he loves being a Jedi so he tries to be a better Jedi for the sake of Obi-Wan. Because I love the trope of both of them being too oblivious to realize they are in love.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ The Shelter of My Love - Astropol

When you have nothing to lose No one dear and no one to care for Non one sees you but I do I'll take you in I won't let you go Oh the middle of the night Black as tar and eager to hold you Just as pretty as my love Just as hungry Just as eternal [...] When you have no bridge to burn No place to go, no place to return to No one loves you like I do I love you [...] When you have nothing to lose And nightfall comes, eager to hold you No one loves you like I do I love you I love you, I love you Oh shelter of my faith All the peril, all the weight Mighty glorious The shelter of my faith Oh shelter of my trust All the longing, all the lust God will help you if you lost the shelter of my trust

I'm perfectly aware that this is a song about faith. It's basically like a call to pray because even when you are lost the one person that will always be there for you is God. BUT, this actually works pretty well for the Jedi Order too. And if we think of how Anakin joined the Jedi, how he felt like the only thing he would lose is his mother, it kinda makes sense with these lyrics. And even Obi-Wan: he was given to the Jedi when he was so young that that's the only life he knows. At the same time, it can be about Anakin and Obi-Wan finding that solace in each other too, because sure, the entire Order is there to support them. But it's almost like it's their last option to them, because when in need the first person they go to is the other.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ The Night We Met - Lord Huron

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

You should know me by now. If a song that is basically perfect for Obi-Wan post RotS, I'm gonna find it. And this one is just PERFECT! Like, Obi-Wan absolutely feels like he owes something to the universe because he is the one who failed Anakin, who allowed him to fall. So I imagine him wanting a do-over, a chance to stay away from Anakin so that Anakin can be better and his own heart can't be broken in such a terrible way. Basically, this is also perfect for a time traveler Obi-Wan trying to fix things from day 1.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Danger - JKAY feat Shola Ama

I'm a million reasons in And I'm going out on a limb But I can't, no I can't deny Cause I, I fell in love with danger And I think I found a stranger in you The boy that I knew, left me torn into two And I don't know what to do

Nothing fancy about this one, just Obi-Wan realizing there is a wild side to the cute, totally unable to flirt young teenager he took care of for so long. Basically something to write smut on. You all know you need these kind of songs too. (And I picked the acoustic version because it gives me more soft love-making vibes, but the original one is perfect for a more passionate kind of mood).

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Amandoti - Giovanni Lindo Ferretti

Loving you makes me weary, guts my insides (It’s) Something that feels like laughing in tears Loving you makes me weary, it makes me sorrowful What can you do (about it), that’s life That’s life, my (life) [...] Loving you comforts my sleepless nights It’s something that replaces old dead flames Loving you comforts me, it gives me joy What can you do (about it), that’s life But (that) life is my life Love me once more, do it softly One year, one month, one hour (Do it) Hopelessly Love me once more, do it softly Just for an hour But let it be forever

I was forced to put the live version from the original composer in the playlist, but a couple of weeks ago I posted a link to Maneskin's cover of this song (which, isn't on Spotify). You can check it out HERE, with a full translation of the lyrics (yes, Italian songs will always be a thing for this playlist, get over it). Like I said in the tags of that post, this is just another one of those songs that give me post RotS Obi-Wan feels. Just him all alone and heartbroken wishing he could feel Anakin's love just once more. Simply perfection.

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❧ Lemon Eyes - Meg Myers

Hush now baby, there's no need to cry Let me wipe away those lemon eyes All your worries, such a waste of time You can't even see how much you're mine You're so bitter, bitter, bitter, yellow Settle, settle, got to settle down, okay Listen, listen, you listen, yellow It's a killer, a killer, a killer jealousy Lemon eyes, you're mine Yellow eyes, all mine I bet you wanna walk away, run away, look away, turn away Honey you can't hide Lemon eyes, all mine

Do I even have to explain this? It's basically perfect for all of Anakin's issues with jealousy, but with what yellow eyes mean in this fandom it could absolutely be about Sith!Anakin. It's just such a fitting song for these two, with Obi-Wan trying to reason with a very unreasonable Anakin... (And I might have anonymously suggested to someone to listen to it as a good song for their fic. *coff coff* @tennessoui *coff coff*)

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❧ 10 Years - Daði Freyr

We've been together for a decade now Still everyday I'm lovin' you more If I could do it all again I'd probably do it all the same as before I don't wanna know what would've happened If I never had had your love I didn't became myself before I met you I don't wanna know what would've happened If I never had felt you love Everything about you, I like We started out so fast Now we can take it slower Love takes some time Takes a little time, so take a litte time As it ages like wine [...] And just when I thought that my heart was full I found place that I never explored You're so fascinating And I can't remember the last time I was bored [...] How does it keep getting better? Everyday our love finds a new way to grow The time we spend together Simply feels good We got a good thing going

How could I not put this song in this playlist? Like, it can literally be about how in the many years together, their love for each other grew and grew, and changed to get better with time. But it can also be just Anakin and Obi-Wan in an established relationship, since this is technically a song about a ten years anniversary. I just LOVE IT. It's super sweet and we all need fluff sometimes.

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❧ Different Kind Of Love - Kid Runner

It was always you there Dancing towards me Grabbing both my hands like Here we go, here we go again Maybe it was destiny We were so familiar But you caught me staring And I don't know, I don't know, I guess [...] And when you're near me I can't help but be under your spell Can I make you believe you're the only one I need? [...] It must've been something A switch in my brain It kept me in motion It drove me insane It must've been something Something you said You're pulling me under Holding me close Inside my head Oh, it's a different kind of love And when I see your face I know, I know You got me going Oh, and this could be enough I'm dreaming wide awake I know, I know

Classic friends to lovers AU song that works wonders with Anakin's kind of love, all obsessive and stuff. Definitely can picture teen Anakin pining over Obi-Wan to the tune of this, all awkward boners at absolutely inappropriate times and Obi-Wan never truly pointing it out, because he doesn't want to make Anakin even more uncomfortable.

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❧ Ruthless - GIRLI

Home? What's that? I got a doll's house with a few cracks Grew too tall, now I'm poking out the attic My feet are in the basement 'cause I never wanna hack it Life, what's that? Life, what's that? [...] Take my soul, Take me down Take me back to the beginning of this when I was still innocent Me, sorry who? I'm a kid in a grown-up suit Looking in the mirror tryna figure out who's Banging on the glass 'cause they're tryna break through Is it me? Is it you? Think it's me, wish I knew Take me, use me, screw me over Play me like I like losing Trip me, trick me, drug me Say you love me but you like cheating You're the only one to blame You made me this way Guess that's why I'm so damn Ruthless You made me, you made me You made me ruthless You made me, you made me You made me ruthless Only way to do it When you break me and I lose it Oh, you made me You made me so damn fucking ruthless [...] Yeah it's tragic All the bad bits Made me so damn ruthless No, it's not me I don't wanna be Ruthless

Being a woman, I know perfectly that this song is about how sometimes women have to grow up to be mean because of all of the abuse they go throw in their life. But I kind of see Anakin as this person that would absolutely blame everyone else for his fall to the Dark Side and this works so well! Like, the doll house is a metaphor for how the Jedi Order was supposed to be his home, but in the end he felt like he was used, like the Jedi told him they loved him just to trick him into doing whatever they wanted, basically cheating him of a simpler life with his mom. And even the looking in the mirror thing could be when he's already in the Vader suit and he doesn't know if Vader is what he was supposed to be all along or somewhere inside him there's this young innocent child trying to get out. What can I say, most of the times I have Obi-Wan feelings. But every once in a while I find something twisted enough to give me Anakin/Vader feelings too.

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❧ All or Nothing - Wild Youth

I remember when we were younger We used to stay up late We used to watch the sun go down, the sun go down Yeah at night I, I think about ya How I spent so long living without ya You're all I need, the air I breathe So hold tight, I'm coming 'Cause it's all or nothing I'm a million miles away and I feel so low I've been driving all night just to get back home to you To you See the sunrise, it's a classi break Driving down roads that I used to take with you With you Every streetlight, new horizon Start to wonder if you realise Oh, we were vain, was more than friends So hold tight, I'm coming 'Cause it's all or nothing

Okay, this is kind of perfect for a very specific kind of AU. Like, the "they used to be childhood friends, then got separated by life, but they were always meant for each other, so after meeting once by chance after years separated, they can't go back to their life, they have to stay with the other" kind of specific AU. The song might work with how the Clone Wars kept them separate too, but... yeah. It's kinda specific. Sorry not sorry.

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❧ Someone Like You - Noah Kahan feat. Joy Oladokun

Guess I'm a mess now Lost with my head down I haven't heard from you in weeks You must have left town I can't go back now And all that I have now Are those feelings I felt Knowing that no one else can bring them back out And I've been trying to find a silver lining But I can't But I can't Now that I can't hold you I wish that I had tried to Do more not to lose you Now that I can't find you Because the second you left, yeah the voice in my head screamed "What did I do?" Now you're gone and all I want is someone like you

Once again, ignoring that this is a song about a couple breaking up after one of the two cheated because this is also perfect for Anakin confessing his love for Obi-Wan as soon as he's a Knight. He was sure that would make Obi-Wan accept his love and try to get in a relationship, instead Obi-Wan panicked and asked to get sent as far away from Anakin as he could. So of course Anakin is filled with regret about his confession.

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❧ Big Boy - Charlotte Cardin

Maybe if I spell it out Big boy will take me on proper You nailed my heart to your wall You never dusted off after [...] Maybe if I'm a broken wing Big boy in my nest You nailed my heart to your wall And disposed of the rest of me With your push and shove Like what's love ain't love But it's love to me My boy is not a man yet My boy is not a man yet But boy do I love it when you kiss my neck Oh boy last night was perfect You're changing my mind Like what's mine ain't mine Be mine to be Maybe if we try again Big boy we could have it my way You nailed my heart to your wall But it was damaged anyways

Another song to write smut to, but smut with feels. Mainly Obi-Wan's, that maybe feels like Anakin played with him just so that they could sleep together, but never actually tried to put a pin on what their relationship is supposed to be after. And Obi-Wan realizes that part of the reason is that Anakin is still so young and maybe he's the one that made a mistake. Like, he's not even sure that what he feels is real, but he still keeps following what Anakin wants because what is the alternative after all?

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❧ Home with You - Marie Dahlstrom

Happy to be home with you Happy to wake up with you Even after all that you've benne through Happy that you feel the same Hope that I can ease the pain Happy to come by 'Cause you just give me life And I love spending time with you It's easy when I want you like that I don't regret it even if you might think That I've got Plenty other reasons in my head Plenty other questions still unsaid Nobody knows where you'll go but I'm here [...] I don't understand it all Still I will accept your flaws Just the way that you're accepting mine No, I'm not really one to judge We can laugh it off because It's just one life for you and I and I know [...] Feels so good when it's You by my side I could just stay all night I could just stay all night I love the things you do Nobody knows where we'll go but I'm here Baby, whenever you need me Baby come over, baby come over Whenever you need I will always be by your side

This song can honestly fit multiple things. It can absolutely be Obi-Wan accepting that Anakin reaches out for him only in certain situations and him always being open to it, no matter how their relationship isn't really the traditional kind of relationship (like, a friends with benefits kind of deal). But it can also be Obi-Wan and Anakin getting together when Anakin is already Vader, so Obi-Wan is slowly falling to the Dark Side too. You can also just use this as another song to write soft love making too since it's so slow and soft. Or just do whatever you want with it.

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❧ Hands Tied - Beatrich

You got me home sick for your arms The arms that keep me close But you just slip though my fingers Like I'm tryna catch a ghost I'd travel to the moon and back For you and all that you could say is That you didn't ask for that You'd never ask I'd travel to the moon and back For you and all that you could say is That you didn't ask for that You'd never And you stand there Looking at me with my hands tied And how foolish Foolish of me to let this one slide I'm terrified The roots are way too deep And there is no way out You just stand there Looking at me with my hands tied

Huge vibes of Anakin being mad in love with Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan pushing him away because he sees Anakin as a brother, not as a lover. And there's all kind of pining from Anakin because of the unrequited love and he tries to do crazy stuff for Obi-Wan hoping he will fall in love with him but it fails... Yeah, that's the angst that hurts in the best way! (But, you know, can totally be reversed to Obi-Wan in love with Anakin in a canon scenario with Anakin married to Padmé.)

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❧ Same Bed - Lola Young

I'm too quick to judge, too fast to fuck If we're lonely and I'm No good in love, 'cause the last time I ended up a little dead inside Sorry I lied, I do not want you, no Sorry my pride's a little too high To let you know I cried when you said you had to go, baby [...] (whispered) Fuck then, don't do this to me now Don't say my name when you're talking to me Don't say we're on the same page Don't look away when you walk into me I like the pain, I like the pain I'm making it hard for you to move on And be lonely 'cause I'm So good with words that the last time I broke his heart [...] I got a bit drunk yesterday evening and I Told you some things I didn't mean, oh did I? Hate it, I hate it when I get complacent I love it when you pull that face and we make mistakes Utterly wasted And wake up in the same bed In the same t-shirt I told you I loved you in The same regrets Like wearing the t-shirt I told you I love you in [...] I only like you when you're naked At least, that's what I proved to myself Can't make a fool of myself, baby God, it's so frustrating, making such a fool of myself Gotta make do with myself, baby I only like you when you're naked At least, that's what I proved to myself You make a fool of myself, baby Let's overcomplicate it, maybe just lose ourselves

Back with the complicated relationship and the angst. Can see this in a canon compliant AU with both Anakin and Obi-Wan not really wanting to admit they are in love with each other, but somehow they always end up sleeping together, and telling the other how much they love them just to regret all of it the day after. Basically making things complicated for no reason other than Obi-Wan not wanting to break the rules/his belief that he's meant for infinite sadness, but also because Anakin can't give up on this twisted love despite how much it hurts him and being petty in trying to make Obi-Wan suffer just as much.

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❧ Ghost - Harper

Not putting lyrics here because this entire song gives me Obi-Wan on Tatooine post-RotS vibes. Like, he's literally on the planet Anakin came from, there to protect Anakin's kids. OF COURSE he sees Anakin's "ghost". Like, he sees so much of Anakin in Luke when he grows up. And it feels kind of fitting as a punishment for Obi-Wan to be slowly going crazy because he keeps being haunted by this image of Anakin around him. Literally this line: "why you gotta make me weak to make me stronger". That's Obi-Wan trying to get over this love for Anakin and realizing that he has to mourn and suffer before he becomes stronger and able to get free from this ghost's hold. (But, you know, Anakin's ghost might even be actually Anakin, in a scenario where Anakin is actually trapped inside of Vader and trying to get free by reaching out to Obi-Wan for help.)

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❧ Qualcosa di Grande - Cesare Cremonini

What happened, you changed You are not the same Or are you still the one That grew up with me What happened, you ran away And with you so did my life I searched for it, I searched for it But I found it only in you There's something important between us That you can never change Not even if you want to But there's something important between us That you can never forget Not even if you want to What happened, you fell You fell too low and now you try to climb back up But it's a struggle you don't want [...] What happened, your light Your light is obscured By someone that I know And that took you away from me What happened, your star Your star eclipsed And now (I dare you to) shine from the darkness without me

Yet another song that gives me RotS feels. It's obviously a break up song, a song about regrets and struggling to move on. So of course in it I see Anakin falling to the Dark Side and Obi-Wan trying to remind him of what is between the two of them so that Anakin comes back to him. (If you want to read the complete translation, you can check it out here.)

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❧ Dark Side - Phoebe Ryan

At your worst, you're the best Baby I don't want another version, no Hard to love, hard to trust But don't change Don't be a better person for me 'Cuz I'm in love with your dark side I'm in love with your dark side So don't turn on the light [...] Even if it hurts, I want you heart Even at your worst, I love you hard If you wanna keep me, go too far

Another song that is more of a both!Sith AU but also something Vaderwan would work honestly. I like the twisted nature of this kind of love so much in fics. Can absolutely works with any version of Anakin or/and Obi-Wan being the bad guy in the story.

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All done! All 20 new songs I added to the original playlist explained away. Like last time, I hope you find any of this entertaining or useful. If any of this inspires your creativity, don't be shy and tag me on your stuff. I'll gladly read it/watch it/enjoy it.

#obikin #obikin playlist #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #if you use any of these please tag me #i wanna see all of the content!#feel free to suggest songs if you want #i'm always happy to listen to something new #and my ask box is always open #i'm getting more and more specific because i think every au needs its own song #so yeah #there are a bunch of songs that work for specific AUs #but i'm sure out there a writer is waiting for that specific song to get out of a writer's block while writing their fic #and i wanna help them finish their fics!#also my brain sees obikin everywhere so of course i have to make you part of this disease of mine #i'll probably post part 3 next week because I have more songs to add to this playlist #finger crossed that my migraine decides to chill for a while so i can write the next post #Spotify

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asphalt-cocktail · 5 years ago

Text

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Medici Ivory and Coral Clay

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hey cuties! Back at it again with another chapter! Thank you for your patience! I honestly am so thrilled with all of the lovely comments and likes/reblogs I have been getting. I even go through and read the tags because i crave validation. But for real though, they are all seriously so sweet and I love all of the support and want to thank you all for it! I do have some angst planned for future chapters though, got to make some young discourse to keep thing spicy, but don’t worry, I want to keep this story light and funny so it wont be anything too bad! also PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DM me if I have missed your tag! I feel like I am missing some people in my tag reblogs.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, smut, fluff, some friendly banter between roger and reader, consensual recording, not proof read

Word Count: 3k

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

Freddie’s dark brown eyes practically gawked at you, “You what!” He grinned. Your face flushed and you swirled around your bottomless mimosa, “I knew you would start doing live streams,” He eagerly stabbed his fork into the yolk of his eggs Benedict, cracking it and causing the yellow liquid to ooze down the sides of the biscuit, “I knew you would; how are your clients? Do you have regulars? Do they ask you to do anything- kinky?”

As Freddie rambled on, your eyes zoned in on his egg yolk, the viscous liquid slowly oozing out of the broken egg and falling down his plate. Should you tell Freddie about Roger? No you couldn’t, that would bring on another series of questions you were definitely not prepared to answer no matter how many bottomless mimosas you had at your biweekly Sunday brunch.

“[Y/N]” Freddie spoke, his tone somewhat sharp, “Are you paying attention? I want to know the details.” The curious glint in his eyes hadn’t dampened.

You gave him a shy smile, “Yeah, I have a few regulars, they’re all nice, some are a little creepy, but I never show my face,” Well, that was a lie. Tonight, was going to be the first night you showed your face on camera and was also the first night you and Roger would film together.

The two of you hadn’t had anything special planned, you were going to change your tips around to reflect different actions people could pay for. It was bound to be fun, right?

You couldn’t shake the nervous jitters from your mind even after your brunch with Freddie and his probing questions. You loved him dearly, but he was often too nosey for his own good. He wouldn’t dare tell a soul the information he knew, but it was as though his very being needed the substance to survive. His head was full of knowledge and he just soaked it up like a delicate sea sponge in an ocean of information.

When you returned to your apartment, you were surprised to see the furniture moved around and a large tarp covering the floor closest to the walls in the living room, “Uh, Roger?” you called out, hanging your keys on the shelf, surely you didn’t drink that much… right?

You closed your eyes for a few long seconds and reopened them, yup, this was real all right, “Roger!” You called louder, “What’s up with the living room?” You kicked your shoes off and walked further into your home before you stopped in the kitchen.

Surprisingly enough, Roger was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old faded tee shirt; it was sloppy even for your low standards. Roger looked up at you from his bowl of pasts, mid bite, “What?” He asked with a mouth full of noodles and sauce.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled, “What’s up with the living room?” You repeated your question from earlier.

“What do you mean?” He asked, clueless as ever.

You let out a puff of air in frustration, “The living room Roger, everything is all moved around and there’s a tarp on the floor. What are you doing? Opening a mud wrestling pit?” The annoyance in your voice was very evident.

“Oh, I picked up a few buckets of paint so we could finally paint the paneling, the mud wrestling is a good idea though, you think we could charge for it?”

You rolled your eyes at his joke- you hoped it was a joke- and a small smile graced your face, “What colors did you pick out?” You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of changing the drab, old, and dusty wood paneling that encased your living room walls.

“You know that cream color you were talking about? It turns out it’s actually called Medici Ivory, so I got a few buckets of that and a bucket of this nice red color called Coral Clay.” He finished up the last fork full of his pasta and got up, rinsing it in the sink, “We can paint right now if you go change.”

You looked down, realizing you didn’t want to get your brunch clothes dirty, “Right, I’ll be right back.”

After you quickly changed into some sloppy clothes you and Roger set out to paint the wood paneling, “You know I realized I said you get two walls and I get two, but there are really only three wall in the living room.” Roger pointed out, “I mean, we could paint the little parts of the wall outside of the kitchen, but then I would want to paint the kitchen too.” He thought out, chewing on his plump lower lip.

You swallowed thickly, distracted by the way his pretty pink lips popped out from his mouth after he sucked on it, “Well you can have two and I’ll have the accent wall.” You offered.

Roger looked at you as though you were a moron, “You cant have an accent wall as the lighter color,” He said in a matter of fact tone, “I’ll take it and you can paint the other two cream.”

After a few more minutes of planning, you and Roger finally decided upon who was getting what walls, Roger pointed out it didn’t matter what color the walls were, his decorations were still going to be hung back up. So, he got one wall to paint Coral Clay, and you got the remaining walls to paint Medici Ivory.

You connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker before Roger could beat you to it and shuffled your favorite playlist on Spotify. Take Me To The River by the Talking Heads began to flood your apartment. You hummed along to the song and began to paint, long even brush strokes on the wall, staining the ugly wood paneling Medici Ivory. As your playlist cycled and paint began to coat the walls you glanced over at Roger’s side of the wall, there were uneven splotches and awkward shapes that coated it. No cohesion at all.

You frowned, “What are you doing to the walls, Roger?” You frowned, “You can’t paint like that.” You scolded him.

Roger pulled away, allowing the brush to loosely hang from his hand, gobs of Medici Ivory dripped onto the tarp making a soft pitter patter noise that blended in with your music, “What? You’re doing better than me?” He asked.

You looked at him in disbelief, “Yeah, I am.” You said pointedly, “This is how you’re supposed to paint,” You said, demonstrating with long even brush strokes, “This isn’t finger painting.”

Roger scoffed and flicked his brush at you, your clothes staining the creamy off-white paint, “I suppose it isn’t.” He responded in a huff.

Your eyes narrowed “Real mature, Roger.” You said going back to painting next to him.

Roger continued to defy you, painting in big circles on the wall and ignoring the clumps and uneven layering that covered the wood panels. You turned towards him and flicked your brush at him, this time little spots of white paint speckled his face causing him to close his eyes and jump, “Oh, you’re going to get it now.” You heard Roger mumble as you turned away from him.

In the blind of an eye you felt cold liquid smearing and staining your skin. A shiver ran through your body feeling Roger’s calloused fingers roughly rub across your cheek “Roger!” You shrilly yelled, bringing your hand up to wipe the paint off, only to smear it.

You swiped your hand across your brush, coating it in the goopy, off white liquid and lunged at him. Roger stumbled backwards and fought your hand as it tried to smear the paint on his face. Your brush had fallen, mushing between your two bodies and covering your shirts in paint. Your legs were firmly planted on either side of Roger’s waist as you straddled and fought against him, still trying to palm the off viscous substance onto his perfectly soft skin.

“Come on, [Y/N],” Roger whined, trying to hide is laughter, “You’re dropping it in my hair!”

“You’re dropping it in my hair!” You mocked in a dopey voice.

Roger gaped at you, “I do not sound like that!” He protested, a shock of laughter rumbling through him and causing his guard to drop.

Your hand came down, smearing Medici Ivory onto his cheek, your hand slickly gliding off his skin. Before you had time to react Roger flipped the two of you over and within a few minutes the two of you were covered in stripes of paint, “You arse!” He was breathless from laughter, still straddling you, “I have to shower now.”

You hummed back laughter of your own and wiggled underneath him in an attempt to break free. Roger wasn’t having it, so you stayed trapped beneath his warm, out of breath body. Suddenly, you were aware of the closeness of your two bodies. His hot breath puffed against the paint that stained your skin causing you to shiver. Roger cleared his throat. The tension in the room was thick. Roger’s erection pressed against your thigh, when did that get there? Your ears felt like they were ringing, the music but a muffled sound that filled them.

“I should get in the shower, the we can do that camera stuff, yeah?” Roger asked, suddenly leaning up. Cool air flooded your clothed chest. It worked in tandem with the paint and caused you to shiver

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head, “Did- uh,” you couldn’t find the proper words to come out of your mouth, “Did you want me to wear anything specific?” you asked.

Roger settled back, his hand tracing soft patterns on your knees, “You could join me, you know, to save on water…” He trailed off, not looking at you.

You shifted and nodded your head, “Yeah, to save water.” You said, suddenly nervous, “Do… Do you want to film it?” You knew very well that the two of you would just be showering.

Roger looked up at you, his typically bright blue eyes now dark and filled with a naughty glint, “Yeah, we can your phone in and see what happens.”

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself pressed against the cold tile of your small steam filled shower. You hissed against Roger’s mouth as the contrasting temperature bit into your skin and arched your back against him. He roughly sucked your lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across it as he pulled away and allowed it to plop back into place.

It was obvious to you that this was going to be different from the first time you and Roger had sex. He was rougher, needier, more dominant with his touches. You didn’t know if it was the amount of steam from the scorching hot water or his touches that caused you to feel dizzy and your brain to spin. Roger quickly turned you over, his hands smoothing over the globes of your ass. You quickly got the message and braced your hands on the wall in front of you.

You swayed your hips from side to side, impatiently waiting for Roger to do something. “Fuck” He silently cursed to himself, “What’s your password?”

Oh right.

You were supposed to be filming this to put on your snapchat. Was your phone waterproof? What if Roger dropped it? How was he going to plow you into next week and hold onto your phone?

The series of questions that flooded your brain was cut short by Roger lightly tapping your cheek, “Come on, before I lose my stiffy.”

“Oh, it’s uh 2580.” You answered, thankful that Roger couldn’t see your embarrassment.

Roger scoffed, “Really? Right down the middle?” He chastised.

“It’s fine- Oh fuck” You hissed out feeling Roger’s thick fingers filling you up, pumping in and out of your throbbing core. You hummed with pleasure and pushed back against his fingers, but as quickly as they filled you, they were gone.

Roger roughly filled you up with his cock, you gasped, feeling him stretch you open. He didn’t leave much time for you to adjust to his still unfamiliar size before he sharply snapped his hips against yours. Your back arched and you kept your hands firmly splayed against the wall. Your legs spread further apart, and your mouth fell open as sinful noises began to spill from it.

“Fuck.” Roger grunted, his hips slapping loudly against yours, “That feel good baby?” He said as he grabbed the meat of your ass and kneaded it in his hand, spreading it apart and getting a perfect view of his cock disappearing into you.

Roger’s calloused hand came down, roughly smacking your cheek. He bit his lip and watched it jiggle under his hand. The water amplified the stinging sensation that rang through your bones. You let out a breathy gasp, “It feels so good,” You slurred. Your mind was drunk with pleasure, “Fuck me harder.” You preened, pushing your hips back against him.

Roger shifted behind you, “You want me to fuck you harder?” He asked, roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him. Your face now rested against the cool tile as you sat up on an angle. Rogers sharp and methodical thrusts caused you to rhythmically jolt forward, the sensitive skin of your breasts occasionally brushing against the cool tile. The flood of sensations caused every nerve in your body to stand on end.

“Yeah, fuck me harder, Rog.” You practically purred his name, letting it roll off your tongue like honey.

Roger pressed his back against yours. His lips latched onto your shoulder, biting at the soft skin and running his tongue over the teeth marks he pressed into you. One of his hands snuck around to your chest, groping and fondling your painfully ignored tits in his rough palms while the other remained on your hip, pulling you against him at an even pace.

You let out soft breathy moans “Ah, ah, ah” each one getting higher and higher in pitch as the coil in your stomach tightened and threatened to break under the pressure that had begun to build until finally it snapped. You arched your back painfully against him, the muscle in your back cramping from the awkward angle. Your walls, pulsating out of him, coaxing Roger to his own release as he chased it, frantically and unevenly thrusting into you before he pulled out and painted the perfect skin of your plump ass white.

Your chest heaved and your arms shook lightly as you came down from your high. After a few moments to regather your brain you let the water wash you clean of the mess.

After your shower you found yourself curled up in your bed. Without bothering to knock, Roger opened the door to your room, his towel still loosely hanging over his shoulders and a pair of boxers hanging comfortably off his hips. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his light blond hair dripping small water droplets and littering his pale skin with moisture. Fuck, you want to lick them off, what the hell was wrong with you?

“Can I help you?” You croaked out. You voice gave away your current struggle.

Roger cluelessly grinned at you, “I want to see what I filmed!” He said plopping down next to you on your bed.

Your face flushed with heat, “You video taped what happened in the shower?” You gaped at him, shifting the blankets so he could get comfortable.

Roger responded with a nod and flatly held his hand out for you to place the phone in his hand, “Yeah, come on we have to pick the best ones to upload.” He responded. Right this was for professional purposes.

When you grabbed and opened your camera roll you saw sure enough, there were several saved short clips and a few pictures in it. Heat began to build in your belly upon seeing the little thumbnail previews. You had to take a moment to remind yourself that watching the sex tape you and your roommate made was strictly for business purposes and not for personal pleasure.

But when you clicked on the first video and caught a perfectly angled shot of Roger entering you, your back arching, the steam of the shower beginning to fog and cloud the camera your mind went blank. You stared at the image before Roger nudged the volume button, turning it up, “We have to make sure it sounds okay.” You almost missed the deviant glint in his eyes that hid behind Roger’s focused features.

The cheeky bastard knew what he was doing.

Your breathy sighs and moans filled your room, Christ, that was what you sounded like? You blinked at the short clip when it was over, “What do you think?” You didn’t dare look at Roger. You didn’t even want to think of what his stupid smug face looked like right now.

“I think it looks even better the second time around.” He confidently retorted back to you.

“Fuck off,” You couldn’t help but smile and let out a little laugh before swiping to the next little clip.

“Fuck” Roger’s husky voice rang against your ears, giving you flash backs to what happened only moments earlier.

SMACK the crisp sound of Roger slapping your ass echoed through your brain just like it did in the bathroom.

“That feel good baby?” Your walls throbbed, hearing Roger’s commanding tone and watching his hand kneading the meat of your ass as it bounced against him.

The tension in the room was beginning to settle and surround the two of you once more. You swallowed thickly almost positive Roger could hear your audible gulp. “That one looks good too.” Your voice sounded shaky. Your skin felt like it was on fire and Roger simply sat next to you, seemingly unfazed.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy!roger taylor #ben hardy!roger taylor x reader #roger taylor series #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fanfic #queen fanfic #queen x reader #queen smut #queen series #borhap #borhap series #borhap fanfic #borhap random #FSC fic

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

SUGAR HIGH, chapter xiv. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary. You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing. jeon jungkook. mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags. angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional baggage, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating. general (for now?)

word count. 2500

chapter 14. Right Here

When you finally meet his gaze, he wonders if you see him at all.

"Earth to Park Soomi. Earth to Park Soomi." It barely registers even on his last try and Jungkook can't help but sigh, curling his fingers and spreading them in some wonky, squid-like wave in front of your face.

You're back at your apartment - his request, not yours - and seated alongside one another on the loveseat. Your blanket is draped over your laps, more effectively centred over your legs that rest over his thighs. He's been flipping through Netflix for the better part of five minutes, tossing suggestions out to silence. You weren't even doing anything - just staring off into space like you were seeing the future.

"What?" You snap out of it with a jerk of your head, nearly colliding your nose with the tips of his fingers.

"What do you want to watch?" He repeats for what is the fifth time. There's an edge of exasperation to it that has you frowning. He immediately softens, because he hates when you're anything but sunshine and summertime. "I was thinking something scary, for old time's sake?"

He doesn't call you on the way your eyes glitter, mischief pouring honey into the depths.

"Let's watch Midsommar." Neither of you have seen it - as far as you know - but you've been dying to watch it. You'd tried, once, with Yejin and Minji, but the former had torn out of the room, ranting about how she didn't want to have nightmares for days. You'd given up, after that.

"Okaaay." The single syllable is dragged out as he selects the chosen film, tossing the remote onto the opposite chair like he's some kind of basketballer. You watch as it bounces off the cushion and lands on the floor, nudged out of view by a furtive foot.

"I saw that."

Jungkook pretends as if he has no idea what you're talking about, individually covered toes - god, why did he wear those stupid weird socks? - disappearing back beneath the cover of blanket. He casts a cursory glance your way, the picture of innocence. If he weren't so cute, you'd probably make him pick it up. "Saw what?"

You can't stop the smile that spreads like butter, sinking into every little crevice and warming you from the inside out. It pools in your lopsided grin and the lines at your eyes, reflected right back at you by your childhood best friend.

"Nothing," you hum, ignoring the way your stomach flips at his self-satisfied grin.

As if to push his luck – he loved to do it, had all his life – he hooks his arm over your stretched legs, his left hand snaking around the small space between your back and the couch, and pulls you closer. You try to ignore the way it ignites heat, spreading warmth beneath the soft material of your shirt. You can’t.

“What’re you doing?” It comes abrupt and demanding. A little sad, too. (You hope he doesn’t notice.)

It somehow feels worse when he draws his hand away, as if you’d burnt him and not the other way around. His expression slips, falls, and he doesn’t try to fix it, allowing it to slide into something begrudging and hurt.

When he speaks, it’s a hard line imposed between the two of you, a verbal barrier. “I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

You have no right to be upset and yet you are. Jungkook thinks he sees a flash of it in your eyes before you’re facing forward yet again. You’re closed off and it makes his heart ache but he’s not about to apologize for who he is – who he’s always been.

Even if he’s dying to know why you seem to suddenly hate it.

Instead, he lets the movie roll, carefully contained in his little section of the couch. He loathes it. Your knees over his, a weight that drag his heart into the pit of his stomach and burns it in acid. You don’t relax, hands locked in your lap like you’ve got your secrets hidden between them.

It’s only when your phone buzzes, face-up on your living room table, that you move at all. Your movements are a marionette’s, unnatural and unforgiving; you’re holding a world of tension within your bones and he’s afraid they’re going to snap like strings. You never check your phone when you’re hanging out. It was kind of a rule of yours and one Jungkook did his best to abide by, despite his responsibilities.

“Is everything okay?” He finally asks, reluctant, after you’ve been staring at your phone for far too long, completely disregarding the scene on the television. He’s staring right at you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

He wonders if he’ll get an answer to even this one.

You don’t immediately respond. He can’t read the tone of your voice when you do. You won’t even look at him. “It’s just Hoseokie’s friend.”

When you finally meet his gaze, he wonders if you see him at all.

The next few weeks seem to fly by and while Jungkook loves the distraction, it's a reminder of your distance.

He hasn't seen you since that night and there's this distinct hole in his mind and in his heart, each thought of you repeating tenfold like in an echo chamber. He hates it more than he can say, the loneliness sinking into his bones when he least expects it.

Like now, for instance, in the car ride home. Jimin sits beside him, singing along to what blares through the speakers, and stares out the window, completely at ease. On the other hand, Jungkook can't focus on anything, his gaze locked on the leather console between the two front seats.

He wonders what you're doing or if you're still awake. (It's just past nine.)

"Are you okay?" The question forces its way into his thoughts, drawing him from his reverie with a harsh hand, despite the gentle delivery. His hyung's face is soft, worry framed into the slope of his eyebrows and the way his full lips purse.

He's not quite sure what to say. Lie? Or verbalize things he'd rather not? He hesitates, tongue slotting into the space of his cheek as he considers the question.

The silence seems answer enough. "Is it about Soomi?" There's no demand in Jimin's voice, no pushiness or reproach to be found. He wants to express his support for his friend but toes the line of too much and not enough, head canting to the side as he studies the younger - and yet bigger - member.

"Yeah." His admission is quiet, almost lost among the melody that filters through the speakers. Truthfully, he wishes it had.

"Did..." A pause, because Jimin wants to be very careful. He's seen the bond you two have - know how precious it is, cradled in the cavity of Jungkook's chest like a treasure. "Did something happen?" He hopes its innocent enough; he knows his maknae would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship.

"I don't know." Jungkook sounds wrecked when the words come, anguish coating each syllable like a fine dust. Still, there's more to be found in the spaces between them - in everything that's left unsaid. "She's just been distant." He shrugs, the line of his broad shoulders - ones that could hold the world up but faltered with this misery - rising beneath his black bomber. "I'm not sure if I did something wrong but I'm too afraid to ask."

That, and you'd been near avoiding his communications, providing brief - though never cruel - responses and only answering his calls at half the consistency you'd used to.

To anyone else, it wouldn't have been bad but to him - it was like a knife to the heart.

Jimin mulls over the revelation, turning it over and over in his head. He's spoken to you here and there, sending hilariously filtered photos over Snapchat and new songs over KaTalk. He hadn't noticed anything amiss in your own friendship with him but then again, he wasn't Jungkook.

He wasn't the person missing his other half, somehow, despite you being right there.

He doesn't bring that up, though, steeling knowledge of your regular responses behind the enamel grate of his teeth. Instead, he gives what advice he hopes he would receive. "I think you should talk to her."

"I've been trying." It's almost a whine - very Jungkook-like in its delivery. He's even pouting in that way he does best, lips curled in.

"No, I mean, tell her you want to talk about whatever it is."

As if the mere thought might be worse than death, Jungkook flinches. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?" Jimin's not always this way, but he feels like the other needs a solid push in the right direction.

"Because what if I did do something wrong?" There's suffering in every word, colouring them in a mosaic of blue and purple like a moulted bruise. "What if she doesn't want to talk to me and I just make it worse?" He sounds so small, Jimin's heart aches for his friend.

"The alternative is never addressing this and having it become something more than it is." He's not sure if this is the right approach - realism wasn't something people often appreciated in times of distress - but he presses on anyway. "What if it's all just a misunderstanding but because you aren't talking to her, she stops talking to you? How silly would that feel?"

By the ticking in Jungkook's jaw, he knows he's struck a nerve.

"You're right," the brooding brunet is finally relenting, the heaviest of sighs escaping his soft pink lips. "I'll text her when we get back."

"You mean you'll call her." Emphatic, because Jimin can practically feel the nervous energy rolling off of the other in waves.

"Yeah." It's not the most believable but he's trying. "I'll do that."

Instead, he does one better - standing in front of your apartment like he doesn't feel sick to his stomach, tension spread across his limbs like venom and rooting him to the spot. It feels too heavy in his veins, weighted lead that sinks into his feet and keeps his hands curled.

He just needs to knock. One knock. That's it. Easy.

So why can't he do it?

"Get it together, JK." The grumble is quiet but pierces the evening air, seemingly bleeding into the wood grain of your door frame. With a sharp inhalation, his fist meets with three loud raps. He doesn't immediately hear anything on the other side - why he thinks he would, he's not sure - but it does nothing to alleviate the bile that boils over and rises in his throat.

This was a bad idea, he thinks, when the silence stretches on for longer than a second.

And yet, the door opens, flies open in the next and he can't help the surprise from affixing like a mask. It shoots into the curve of his brows, arches disappearing into his mop of multi-colour. His lips curl around a greeting, though the sound falls short when you speak first.

He's relieved that there's no anger there - only bewilderment and confusion. "Jungkook? What're you doing here?"

Your question seems to spur him into action, his broad palm moving to brush over his ear. A default action, a tic he's had since he was a kid. It teases at the intensity that sits just beneath his facade of a smile and makes you regard him more carefully. He's still got makeup on, shadow around his pretty eyes highlighting the doe-like quality of them. Even his hair is still done, neatly curled into place across his forehead, though it looks like he's swiped his hand through it a number of times.

Another nervous habit, you think.

"I wanted to see you."

You can't help the way the words stir something in your chest. First, delight. Pure unadulterated joy at being wanted by the person you want most. Then, concern. Because it's late on a random Tuesday and he wouldn't be here without reason. He'd have called you. But then his next words are a nail in your coffin, sinking you six feet under beneath his clunky black boots.

"I think we need to talk."

You say nothing as you step back, turning your body to allow him over the threshold. You're the picture of calm, gently clicking the door shut when he's manoeuvred his way inside and goes about untying the intricate laces on his shoes.

Inside, you're in full turmoil, a kerosene-soaked rag held dangerously close to a flame.

"Can we sit?" Even now, with the possibility of brutalizing your heart in two - yes, you were a cynic - he's so polite. The best boy you've ever met, a sweetheart full of good intentions. He extends a hand to you, taking a step back in the same instance. You hate - love? - the confidence with which he moves, like this is his home, too.

You suppose it is. Tu casa es mi casa, or something.

"What do you want to talk about?" You ask because you can't help it but you don't really want to know. Not right now, when your poor heart is about to leap out of your chest and throw itself at his feet. No, you'd much rather do anything but talk. Watch a movie, take a nap, sit in silence. Anything sounded better than the great unknown.

"Uh," he stumbles over himself - a decidedly un-Jungkook thing to do - and settles himself into the comfort of your loveseat. He waits for you to alight yourself alongside him, knees pulled to your chest as you face him sideways.

He looks nervous. Somehow, that doesn't help your own frayed nerves.

When he speaks, it's with all the care of someone in a delicate position. Each word is carefully chosen, handpicked and pruned with unrelenting shears until it's exactly what he wants. "I feel like something's changed." No malice, no blame. Just a statement of fact, cloaked in sadness and misunderstanding. "I don't know if it was something I did but if it is, I'm sorry." The apology for nothing comes easily, because he's willing to give you anything if you asked. "I feel like you're so far away and I don't know how or why, but I don't want it go on." He's gnawing on his lip, his cheek - anywhere he can find purchase. "Please talk to me."

Your heart breaks a little more with every syllable. You want to reach out, hold him as gently as he's always held you. Instead, you twist your fingers in your lap, clasp and unclasp them in quick succession. You don't trust yourself - not yet.

"Soomi." Whether he intends for it, your name falls like the prayer of a dying man.

"I'm sorry," you croak before you can figure out anything further. You need to get this out now - anything to alleviate the sadness that burns him to the core.

notes. i'm sorry this is so severely overdue! i finally found my inspiration again and will be (hopefully) getting some chapters queued now that i have an idea of where/how i want this to go. thank you for sticking around. xo

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #work.zip #bestfriends.zip #sugarhigh.doc #jungkook.doc

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when-a-humble-bard · 5 years ago

Text

the driftwood and the rift (p.2)

Read part 1 here!

Read on AO3 here!

Warnings: blood/injury; strong suggestions of past torture; feelings of guilt; everyone feels guilty for different reasons; they are bad at feelings but they are both trying

A/N: part 2 is here! This chapter was like pulling teeth to get them to talk to each other but we kinda got there. Heh. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: @thuriweaver

…

They take the last room at the tavern that’s available. Geralt accepts the key from the innkeeper—who stares at the mess of the two of them, beaten and bloody, with wide eyes—and half-helps, half-carries the bard up the stairs to the last room on the left. Geralt pauses only long enough to ask the barmaid to send up a basin of hot water.

He drops Jaskier onto the singular bed in the corner. He hates the silence. It had been grating in the months since their parting at the mountain top, but now that Jaskier is here… Geralt hates it. Almost as much as he hates the way Jaskier won’t meet his eyes.

Geralt busies himself with getting a low fire going in the hearth and pulling out strips of linen and vials of oil. He can feel Jaskier watching him, his bright blue eyes following his every movement. His initial panic seems to have abated, as much as Geralt can tell from his scent and the beating of the bard’s heart, but there’s something that lingers around him that Geralt can’t quite place. Something that reminds Geralt of burnt grass and smoke.

The Witcher turns to face the bard, opening his mouth to say something when he’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Geralt quietly thanks the young woman that hands the wash basin to him with a hesitant smile. When he turns back, Jaskier is standing. He’s got one hand braced against the headboard.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says softly. The bard’s eyes flicker up. “Sit down.”

Jaskier shakes his head. Some of his hair—it’s longer than Geralt remembers—falls across his eyes in the process. “Your shoulder,” he says. “It needs to be cleaned and we both know your scars heal more evenly if someone else sews them up.”

Geralt sighs. “I don’t care how evenly—”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, just… let…” Jaskier blows out a breath. “Let me do this. Please.”

Geralt knows first-hand just how insistent the bard can be. There was a certain fire that always lit up in those blue eyes of his when he got this way, and Geralt can’t help but feel an odd note of relief at seeing it back. The look always managed to exasperate the Witcher—honestly, Jaskier chose the most trivial things to put his foot down over—but it’s an improvement over the distant, haunted look that had shadowed his expression since the forest. Perhaps that’s why he relents.

Geralt’s lips press into a thin line before he sets the basin on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. Jaskier is quiet again as Geralt shrugs off his armor and sheds the shirt underneath. The silence twists Geralt’s stomach. He is desperate to fill it.

“You were in Blavikin.”

It’s not a question, exactly. The hooded figure had told him as such, after all. The gentle splash of water as Jaskier dips one of the strips of linen into the basin fills the beat of silence that meets the end of the statement.

The bard’s gaze flickers up briefly to meet the Witcher’s golden one. “Yes. After we, ah, last parted, I found myself passing through Blavikin and the people of Blavikin found themselves in need of a bard.”

Geralt watches closely as Jaskier swallows before gingerly pressing the linen to the stab wound, far more gently than necessary, beginning to clean the blood that had dried against Geralt’s skin. The admittance from Jaskier leaves Geralt with more questions than answers. He wants to ask why—of all places Jaskier could have headed—the bard decided to go there. But Geralt doesn’t ask, swallowing the question down.

He thinks he knows the answer, anyway. Despite the bard’s ballads and songs sweeping through the Continent, plenty of contempt directed towards him lingered around. He had no doubt that Blavikin would harbor the worst of it. Butcher of Blavikin wasn’t a name so easily wiped from memories, even if White Wolf had started to worm its way into people’s vocabularies with increasing frequency.

Geralt had not returned to the town since Renfri. He did not plan to ever go back. Geralt looks up as Jaskier continues to clean at the wound in his shoulder. He wonders if perhaps Jaskier knew that. If that’s exactly why the bard decided to go there.

It’s another question that Geralt can’t bring himself to ask.

“I don’t think I’ll go back,” Jaskier says suddenly, studiously avoiding Geralt’s watchful stare. “Can’t say Blavikin really does it for me much anymore.”

“Hmm.” Geralt wants to ask why, but Jaskier presses on.

“Although, I’ll have to go back to retrieve my lute. If it’s even still there. I suppose that’s unlikely, given that it’s been a month, but you never truly know. Perhaps Adelaide rescued it. She’s just as likely to sell it, and that would be quite the travesty. Filavandrel would never forgive me. Although, to be fair, I haven’t performed quite as much as I used to, so perhaps there’s a certain level of irony to be found.”

As he rambles—for which Geralt is oddly grateful to hear, even if Jaskier’s voice is thin and shaky—he finishes cleaning the wound. It’s stopped bleeding, Geralt realizes, and Jaskier turns away from the Witcher and begins preparing what looks like a poultice. Geralt’s gaze still doesn’t waver from the bard. Jaskier’s hands are shaking. He drops one of the vials and it shatters against the dark wood floors.

“Fuck.”

Geralt stands up slowly. “Jaskier.”

“I’ll replace it in the morning, Geralt.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Jaskier is standing frozen by the table next to the bed, dropping his hands beside the poultice and dragging a breath into his lungs as if it takes a certain amount of focus. It’s the first deep breath Geralt has heard the bard take tonight, but he doesn’t miss the hitch nor the slight grimace of pain that passes through Jaskier’s face. Geralt swallows.

“Sit,” he says, and this time, Jaskier doesn’t argue with him.

The bard sinks down onto the side of the bed where Geralt had been sitting a moment ago, his gaze distant as he stares absently across the room. Jaskier blinks, breaking him out of whatever momentary trance he’d been in, and drags his gaze back to Geralt. It settles squarely on the wound in his shoulder. That scent of burnt grass and smoke that lingers around the bard gets stronger.

Geralt sighs, glancing around the room before he finds the spare change of clothes he’d brought in from Roach. He slips the shirt over his head, gritting his teeth as the move tears a bit at the stab wound. He just wants Jaskier to stop staring at it. Especially since the bard looks like he’s about to keel over at any moment.

Geralt busies himself with picking up the shards of glass he can find while he waits for Jaskier to shed his doublet and the shirt underneath. Except by the time Geralt has finished cleaning up the glass as best he can manage, Jaskier hasn’t moved.

Geralt sighs. “Jaskier.” Jaskier blinks up at him expectantly. Geralt arcs an eyebrow, then motions to the bard. “Your shirt.”

“What about it?” From the quick aversion of his gaze, Geralt has the feeling that Jaskier is stalling more than expressing a genuine lack of understanding. Geralt doesn’t respond, crossing his arms over his chest and staring the bard down.

Jaskier lasts all of about ten seconds before he releases a breath and Geralt sees his cheeks flush slightly. “I… may need some help,” he says quietly.

Geralt softens and crosses back to him, sitting beside the bard and helping him ease his blue doublet off his shoulders. The stench of copper grows stronger, and Geralt can see stains of red bleeding onto the off-white shirt he wears beneath. Geralt folds the doublet and sets it aside as he hears Jaskier suck in a deep breath before tugging the hem of his shirt out of his pants and continuing the momentum up and over his head.

Geralt doesn’t miss the tight clench to Jaskier’s jaw at the movement before the bard balls the shirt in his hands. Geralt glances at the bard’s back and freezes.

It’s… a mess. Mottled bruising—some fresh, some old—offers a sickeningly colorful backdrop of greens, yellows, and blues to the slashes that carve through his skin. Some span most of the bard’s back, others are smaller. A few are red, barely scabbed over, while others are most of the way to scarring.

He lasted nearly three weeks before he screamed for you.

Geralt closes his eyes against the roll in his stomach. “Fuck, Jaskier.”

“It’s like I always told you,” Jaskier says, and the attempt at levity probably wouldn’t have worked even if Jaskier’s voice didn’t tremble just a little, “ladies love some scars. Though I’m afraid the stories behind mine are, ah… well. Safe to say I probably won’t be composing songs about them.”

Geralt swallows thickly. He doesn’t know where to start, his golden gaze flickering over the far-too-many injuries that splay across the bard’s back, over his shoulders, wrapping around his ribs. Geralt leans forward slightly to inspect the bard’s chest, and Jaskier turns his head away like he’s ashamed. His chest looks to be in just as bad of shape, and the fact that the bruises continue down around the bard’s hips and disappear beneath the waistline of his pants doesn’t escape the Witcher’s notice either.

“What did they want?” Geralt asks in a careful voice, tearing his gaze away from the colorful and painful display of Jaskier’s chest to the bard’s face.

Jaskier’s light blue gaze flickers to Geralt before looking back to the fire in the hearth. “Nothing.”

“Jaskier.”

“Geralt.” Jaskier finally meets his eyes in a brief flair of defiance. Something wavers in Jaskier’s expression before he tears his gaze away. It grows distant as the bard’s voice grows softer. “They didn’t want anything I was willing to give. So what does it matter, really, what they wanted?”

It matters because Geralt didn’t really need Jaskier to tell him what they wanted from him. The hooded figure in the forest had been pretty damn clear. He was resolute in withholding information about you. Loyal to the end, it would seem. Plenty of people wanted the Witcher dead—plenty of people want Witchers in general dead. None, as far as Geralt knew, had gone to such lengths to glean any information about him in particular as to do this. He knew his lifestyle was dangerous, and put those who chose to join him in harm’s way, but… that was because he hunted monsters. Not… not this. Fuck.

Nobody deserved this, but Jaskier least of all. Jaskier, who had done nothing but care for him and be the singular most steadfast person present in Geralt’s life. Loyal to the end, it would seem. Geralt’s stomach gives another uncomfortable roll, his throat growing tight.

Geralt’s own thoughts trail off as he sees the pained hitch in Jaskier’s breath as he sighs just a touch too deeply.

The Witcher busies himself with kneeling in front of the bard, dipping the unused strips of linen in the wash basin that is now slightly tinged with the red of Geralt’s own blood.

“You should have told them,” Geralt says without looking at him. “Whatever they wanted to know, you should have…” He trails off.

Jaskier releases a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, laced tight with pain and something else that Geralt can’t place. “You really think so little of me? After all these years?”

Geralt’s brow furrows as he wrings out one of the strips. Jaskier looks back at the Witcher, seems to recognize the confusion, and shakes his head a little. “For fuck’s sake, Geralt. You think a little pain is all it would take for me to sell out on you?”

“This,” Geralt says between clenched teeth, nodding to Jaskier’s battered form, “is more than just a little, Jaskier.”

And gods fucking damn it, because it’s his fault. They didn’t want Jaskier, they wanted Geralt, and had thought that going after the bard would be the fastest way to get to him. It was well known across the Continent that Jaskier was the bard who sung the praises of the White Wolf, tagged along with him on so many adventures. An easy target. But the bard was nothing if not steadfast and loyal—to a fault, it would seem to Geralt—and his will had never been as easily broken as his body. If Geralt had just… been there, then Jaskier wouldn’t be fighting back a pained wince with each inhale of breath he dragged into his lungs.

Geralt sighs. He lifts the damp cloth towards the gash on Jaskier’s shoulder. One of the fresher ones, by the look of it. That, or the fight in the woods had torn an old wound back open. Geralt’s hand hesitates before making contact, looking to Jaskier for permission.

Jaskier doesn’t look at him, but he offers a subtle nod and swallows. He shuts his eyes, holding his breath as Geralt gingerly dabs at the fresh blood there. Jaskier releases the breath slowly a moment later. Geralt pretends not to notice just how badly it shakes.

There’s a long stretch where neither of them says anything. Geralt pays close attention to Jaskier, giving him a moment to brace each time he begins to tend to a new wound. The Witcher tries not to let his mind wander too far from his job, careful to not touch Jaskier anywhere he doesn’t absolutely have to. The bard’s fallen silent again, and there are brief moments where Geralt can feel his quiet gaze on him. Any time he goes to return it, Jaskier’s blue eyes flicker back to the fire, crackling in the silence around them.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Jaskier says when Geralt hesitates for the fourth time.

“Hmm.”

“Any of it,” Jaskier adds. “I did pick up a few things from our travels together, you know. I… I can do this myself.”

Geralt lets his hand drop from Jaskier’s ribs, his gold gaze searching. Jaskier won’t meet his eyes. “Do you want to?” he asks, because as much as Geralt wants to feel like cleaning Jaskier’s wounds would at least begin the recompense he owes the bard, Jaskier’s comfort and sense of security take priority.

“I can.”

Geralt frowns. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jaskier is silent again. As much as the Witcher knew the bard could read him, he’d learned how to read the bard over the years in kind. Something was pressing on Jaskier’s mind. He could tell from the unusual silence. The distant gaze. The way that his hands wringed in his shirt—usually, he’d be plucking absently on the strings of his lute, but with the instrument’s absence, Geralt figures that the bard’s hands would remain restless when he was turning something over in his mind.

Still, Jaskier doesn’t give voice to whatever thoughts are evidently flickering through his mind. And as much as Geralt wants to ask him, he can’t bring himself to. He doesn’t want to press. He’d been pressed for information enough over the past month.

The Witcher has cleaned most of the fresh and re-opened wounds on Jaskier’s ribs when the bard finally breaks the silence.

“Geralt.”

“Hmm?”

“In the forest.” Jaskier looks at Geralt kneeling in front of him. There’s a flood of that burnt grass and smoke scent and only now that Geralt is fully looking at him—his eyes wide and pained—can Geralt pair the scent with the emotion. Guilt. “Did you know it would work?”

“What would work?”

“Throwing the knife.”

Geralt’s hands still for a moment. “Mages are conduits of chaos,” he says quietly, recalling what Yennefer had told him once. “Destroy the conduit, you break their hold on whomever they’ve enchanted. Usually.”

“Usually,” Jaskier repeats. “So you didn’t know.”

“Hmm.”

“You could have killed me. You should have.” The statement makes Geralt’s eyes flash up to the bard’s again. “Why didn’t you?”

Geralt shakes his head, hating the way the smoke scent starts to radiate off Jaskier so fully that it nearly drowns out the smell of honeysuckle entirely. “You were under a spell.”

“I was a threat.”

“No.” Geralt’s eyes flash. “You were a victim. There’s a difference.”

“I wanted to hurt you.” Jaskier looks squarely at Geralt now, his blue eyes bright with pain. “I did. When that spell was winning, I wanted to hurt you, Geralt, and gods on high it terrified me. I mean—fuck.” Jaskier drops the shirt in his hands as his voice breaks and buries his fingertips in his hair.

“Jaskier,” Geralt tries, ducking a little in an attempt to get the bard to look at him again. Jaskier’s eyes are screwed shut. Geralt purses his lips. “I’ve sustained injuries far more serious than the meager ones you inflicted in the forest. And regardless, that wasn’t reflective of your desires. It was the bloodlust of the spell.”

“But I felt it, Geralt. I…” Jaskier shakes his head. He scrubs a hand across his watering eyes. He offers a thin, shaky, self-deprecating smile. “Add it to the pile of shit I shovel, huh?”

It’s Geralt’s turn to avert his gaze. Jaskier doesn’t mean it as a jab, but it rips open old well-deserved pain in Geralt’s chest. He’d regretted his words on the mountain less than an hour after he’d spoken them. But he hadn’t known how to take the words back in a way that would mean anything. He’d still said them. And Geralt had long ago gotten in the habit of not saying much of anything when he didn’t know what to say. So instead, he’d taken his time going back down the mountain, turning over the thousand ways to make it up to the bard should they ever cross paths again.

Here they are, months later, and Geralt still doesn’t know where to begin.

“I wasn’t fair,” Geralt says, knowing and hating that all he can think to say is a distant echo of what Jaskier had said himself on that mountaintop months ago. “After the dragon. You were right.”

Jaskier’s eyes open, blinking in evident surprise as he glances up at the Witcher. Geralt can feel the gaze on him, searching and confused, but he can’t quite bring himself to meet it. He busies his hands and his attention, instead, by returning to the gash under Jaskier’s collarbone that still looks red and painful.

“I get myself into shit,” Geralt continues quietly, “and the fact that you happen to be there more often than not does not mean you’re the one who…” The Witcher huffs a frustrated breath, fumbling for some semblance of words that won’t fall short of what he means. He dabs gently with the damp linen cloth against the wound and Jaskier’s breath stutters for just a moment.

He tries again. “You’re a loyal friend, Jaskier.”

And fuck if that doesn’t fall short in a million other ways. The extent of Jaskier’s unyielding, relentless loyalty was painted all over the bard’s body as a painful reminder. Loyal felt like such a massive understatement, and friend didn’t fit well in Geralt’s mouth as a descriptor of Jaskier either. It never had.

But Geralt doesn’t know how to bridge the rift between the words he says and the meaning behind them. The words that leave his lips feel like grasping at driftwood while drowning.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters under his breath.

Jaskier’s hand stills Geralt’s over his wound before pulling his hand away and enveloping it in his own. “Geralt?”

The Witcher stops and swallows. “Forgive me. Please.”

And in truth, Geralt doesn’t know what exactly he’s referring to. If it’s the long overdue plea for what he’d said on the mountain or for the pained wince that Jaskier kept trying to mask or for all the other ways that the Witcher continued to fail Jaskier. There are far too many things, too many ways, that Geralt had fallen short. Too many things he needs Jaskier to forgive him for.

“I’ll do better,” Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier leans forward until their foreheads are touching. Geralt takes a breath, enveloped in the scent of cedar and honeysuckle and rose. The copper scent is mostly gone now, and the Witcher counts it as a small mercy on the aching in his chest.

“My dear Witcher,” Jaskier breathes in the space between them, “Of course.”

The ease with which Jaskier says the words is a grace that Geralt does not deserve. He releases a breath as the knot in his chest loosens before swallowing thickly. He feels Jaskier squeeze his hand softly. Geralt pulls back despite the sudden desire to press into the bard’s aura of warmth and wildflowers.

Jaskier is still battered and bruised and in pain. I’ll do better. That begins with easing whatever pain of Jaskier’s he can in the moment.

The Witcher clears his throat slightly as if it will ease the tightness of it. Jaskier seems reluctant to release his hold of Geralt’s hand, but he does after a moment. Geralt goes back to cleaning the gash beneath his collarbone. It’s the last of his wounds that necessitate cleaning before he’ll offer a salve that should help with the inflammation. Hopefully, with some pain eased, Jaskier can get a decent night’s sleep. Gods know how long it had been since the bard had been able to do that.

Geralt stands to do just that, turning towards the bag he’d hauled in.

“Where do you plan to go, come morning light?” Jaskier asks suddenly.

Geralt turns back around to look at the bard. “With you,” he says, his brows furrowed. Hadn’t that been obvious?

The Witcher sees the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of the bard’s mouth and the lingering knot in Geralt’s chest loosens just a touch more. “To the coast?”

“Hmm.” That did sound… nice, actually. Getting away for a while. It had been a long time since Geralt had been to the coast. He turns back to the bag and rifles through the contents, searching for that salve.

“I’ll need to get my lute first.”

“We can stop on the way.”

“Been too long since I last played,” Jaskier is saying, his voice getting softer and heavier. “Though if we’re going to the coast, I’ll have ample time to work on some sea shanties. Been ages since I’ve sung a sea shanty. Do you know any, Geralt?”

“No.”

“Hm. Shame. I’ll have to teach some to you.”

Geralt huffs a breath. Jaskier would be hard pressed to get Geralt to sing much of anything, but there also wasn’t much that Geralt would refuse Jaskier right now. He turns back to the bard, his brow arched, and finds the bard slumped over in the bed. Fast asleep. The corner of the Witcher’s mouth tugs up into an almost-smile.

He sets the salve that he’d dug out of the bag on the table with a quiet click, easing an arm under Jaskier’s knees and one under his neck. He lifts the bard easily—he’s far lighter than he ought to be—and repositions him more fully onto the bed. He couldn’t have the bard aggravating his injuries further. Jaskier stirs slightly, and Geralt holds his breath before the bard sighs softly and seems to drift back to sleep.

Geralt sets his bedroll on the floor. In the morning, they’d set off for the coast. For now, Geralt drifts off to sleep to the crackling fire in the hearth, the bard’s steady heartbeat, and the faint scent of wildflowers in the air around him.

#geraskier #witcher #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #witcher fanfic #cursing #torture #blood #injury #geralt is trying

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gojira007 · 4 years ago

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Movie Meme

Took me a bit of time, but I was tagged by @bunnikkila to list my nine favorite movies, and since I can’t help but be ridiculously verbose about that very topic, you can see them all under the cut 8D

As for who I tag? Well, as always with the caveat that you are free to ignore if you don’t wanna, I’ll go with: @elistodragonwings @kaikaku @donnys-boy @robotnik-mun @sally-mun @fini-mun @werewolf-t33th @cviperfan and @wildwoodmage

and don’t worry, if you DO go for it, you don’t have to get as Extra as I did about it XD

9.)

Look, the meme is about Favorite Movies, not necessarily the BEST Movies, OK? And for the most part this list consists of films where that division is less meaningful in terms of how I evaluate the other movies on here. But in this specific case, “Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie”, which is ultimately not all that different from the “Mystery Science Theater 3000″ TV show it spun off from and thus not particularly impressive as a work of Cinema Qua Cinema, makes the cut primarily because it’s a movie I know so well and have enjoyed so often that I can practically recite the whole thing to you by rote; I quote it all the time in my day-to-day life, I think about it often when I need a little smile, and it’s also become my favorite tool for introducing newcomers to MST3K as a whole since it was designed with a slightly broader audience in mind than the more willfully-eclectic series. And given how much I love MST3K As A Whole, that’s an especially strong factor in its favor.

8.)

Looky looky, @bunnikkila, we (unsurprisingly) have a pick in common! I’m sure this is the one and only time THAT’S going to happen on this list. 8D

Y’know, nearly thirty years (and one fairly useless remake >_>) later, I think the thing that impresses me about “The Lion King” is just how much it is still able to grab me emotionally. Some of that is unquestionably tied up with how strongly I associate this movie with my family, all of whom it became very special to as a Shared Experience. But I also don’t know of a lot of people who haven’t had that same emotional experience with it, and that to me suggests there’s more going on here than just Nostalgia. The mixture of Shakesperean plotting with Disney’s signature strength of Character, for one thing, granting the movie’s story an Epic Scope that never forgets the emotional inner lives of its cast. The music for another, not only its instantly-iconic song-book but also its memorable score, armed with both Big Bombast and Gentle Sentiment. And the unforgettably gorgeous animation, rendering every last element of its world with believable naturalism and strongly-defined personality. All of it, together, makes for what I still personally consider the Crowning Achievement of the Disney Renaissance.

7.)

I think, if I had to name the thing I find most lacking in far too many modern Action Movies, it’s Clarity. They all tend to lard their plots up with a bunch of unnecessary contrivances and complications in hopes of making themselves appear more clever than they actually are, and all it usually does is just dilute the impact of the whole thing. “Mad Max: Fury Road”, by contrast, is all about Clarity. I could sum up literally its entire plot in a paragraph if I wanted, because it is basically One Big Chase Scene from start to finish, never really deviating from that structure for more than a few minutes at a time. And that, combined with its exceptionally well-crafted Action Sequences, means that the full weight of its visceral power hits you full force every time. But don’t be fooled; that simplicity is not to be mistaken for shallowness. Indeed, precisely by getting out of its own way, knowing exactly what it wants to do and why, “Fury Road” also delivers a story that is, in spite of what you might guess, genuinely subtle and smart. Every character is immediately unforgettable and compelling because their role in the story is so well-considered and their personalities all so stark. The world it crafts feels at once fascinatingly surreal and yet All Too Real at the same time because even its most Fantastic elements are ultimately just grotesque reflections of things the audience knows only too well. And most of all, it tells a story with real, meaningful Themes that are deeply woven into each of its individual elements, such that the whole thing is deeply satisfying emotionally, but also piercingly Relevant in all the best, most affecting ways.

6.)

Oh look, another pick I have in common with @bunnikkila! This must be the last one, right?

But yeah, this is just a legitimately great movie, at every level, in every way. Stylistically, it is one of the most radically inventive things to have ever been made in the world of Western Animated Movies, gleefully mixing together a vast array of Aesthetics and Techniques that are at once viscerally distinct and yet coherently connected, all rendered with a fantastic eye toward the world of Comic Book Visual Language that keeps finding new and extremely fun ways to play with that instantly-recognizable iconography. For that alone, I would call it one of the greatest triumphs of 21st century animation. But then, on top of that, the story it tells is one that is simultaneously Arch and self-aware, delivering some of the most fantastically hilarious punch-lines imaginable more than a few of which are at the expense of the very franchise it is working within...but also entirely earnest, sincere, and emotionally affecting. It is, at once, a movie that manages to be about The Idea Of Spider-Man in its totality while also being about just one kid coming to grips with who he is, what he can do, and what his life can be. I don’t know that I can remember the last time a movie so immediately and unmistakably marked itself as an Enduring Masterpiece, but “Into the Spider-Verse” absolutely pulled it off.

5.)

Ordinarily, I would cheat and give this slot to the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy in its totality. But somehow, the fact that this is about “FAVORITE” movies instead of just what we think the BEST one is compels me to narrow it down to just one. And if I had to pick just one, it would be the first of the three, “Fellowship of the Ring”. It’s not necessarily anything that the other two movies get wrong, either. All three of the LotR movies possess many of its keenest strengths, after all. For a starter, there’s the keen understanding of how best to adapt the source material without being enslaved to it; capturing many of its most iconic moments while cleverly tweaking elements to make them more cinematic, knowing what scenes to focus on for the sake of more clearly focusing the emotional through-lines of the story, and knowing what scenes, no matter how good on the page, ultimately don’t fit to the shape the adaptation has taken. There’s also its pitch-perfect casting, each and every actor doing a fantastic job of embodying the characters so well that even as your personal vision of them from the books may differ radically from what is on-screen, they nonetheless end up feeling Right for the part and a strong, compelling presence. And there’s the deft visual hand of director Peter Jackson, who knows exactly how to craft a Middle Earth that feels at once lived-in and real but also Fantastic and magical. “Fellowship”, for me at least, thus wins out mostly because it has the good luck of being adapted from the strongest of the three books, the point at which the narrative is at its most unified and thus has the strongest overall momentum. But also because so few movies have so swept me away with the sense of stepping into a world I have always dreamed of in my mind’s eye, and that’s the sort of thing that can only happen at the beginning of a journey.

4.)

Now here’s a movie that is literally sown in to my very being. It’s the last movie my mother saw in theaters before becoming a Mom. I grew up watching the “Real Ghostbusters” cartoon all the time and playing with the attendant toys; I had a “Ghostbusters” Birthday Party when I was, like, four years old. It has been my annual Halloween Tradition to get myself a big Cheese Pizza and watch this movie for about as long as I’ve had disposable income to myself. There is, quite literally, no point in my life where I don’t remember “Ghostbusters” being a fixture in it. And as a nice bonus? It is, legitimately, a Genuinely Great Movie. I realize that isn’t quite as universally agreed upon these days as it was even a few years ago (thanks, Literally The Worst Kind Of Virulently Misogynist Assholes lD; ), but I still feel pretty confident in saying this one really is That Good. I still find basically every one of its jokes hilarious; even now I could quote just about any one of them and get a laugh. I still find its central premise, What If Exorcism Was A Blue-Collar Business, a brilliant, almost subversively clever one that takes The Supernatural out of the realm of The Unknowable and into a world where even you, an ordinary person off the street, can in fact fight back against it. I still think it’s one of the all-time great examples of how to balance Tone in this sort of High Concept Genre Bender, by allowing The Story to be played relatively straight while allowing the comedy to flow naturally from the characters’ reactions to that story, allowing its Ghostly aspects to land as Genuinely Scary (or at least Worth Taking Seriously) without getting too Stern and Serious about it. And I still listen to that unforgettable Title Song all the time! So yeah, even if I could be more objective about it, “Ghostbusters” would almost certainly make this cut.

3.)

And so we come to the third and last pick I have in common with @bunnikkila, not coincidentally a movie that played a key role in solidifying our friendship, as bonding over our shared love of it was a big part of how we got to know each other on deviantART waaaay back in the day <3

By 2008, I really didn’t think it was possible for a movie or comic or TV show to really become “part” of me anymore, the way things like Sonic the Hedgehog or Marvel Super Heroes or Some Other Movie Character Who Might Be At The Top Of This List had. And then “WALL-E” came along and proved that to be completely, utterly wrong. I didn’t just love this movie, I was inspired by it, to a degree of strength and consistency that I’m still not entirely sure has yet been matched. And to be sure, some of that is undoubtedly because the movie had already basically won the war before I’d even bought my ticket; Adorable Robots In Love is something like My Platonic Storytelling Ideal, after all. But even setting that aside, “WALL-E” is a movie where even now I can’t help but be keenly aware, and gently awed, at the beauty of its craft; indeed, watching this movie in a theater did a lot to make me better understand why movies work on us the way they do, because I left that theater chewing so much on every last one of its elements. Its gorgeous animation, the way it conveys Character through Actions more so than language, the dream-like quality of its musical score (even as i type this i get teary thinking about certain motifs), the clear and meaningful way it builds its theme and story together so harmoniously, and the particular perspective it takes on our relationships with each other, with our environments, and with our own technology...all of it speaks to me deeply and profoundly, and it’s no coincidence that I have seen this movie more times in theaters than any other on this list (twelve times, for the record, and I still remember each and every time XD).

2.)

This one needs no personal qualifications, to my mind. Yes, I have some degree of nostalgic attachment to it for having seen it relatively young with my brothers and being deeply moved by it then, but it’s not at all like the kind of Nostalgia I have for “The Lion King”. “Princess Mononoke” is just flat-out, full-stop a complete Masterpiece, not just my personal pick for one of the single-best animated films ever made, but one of the best films period. It’s almost difficult for me to put into words how great this movie is, certainly in a way that hasn’t been repeated to death by thousands of other smarter people, because no one of its elements quite answers the question of why it is so great, to my mind. Yes, the animation is absolutely gorgeous with a design sensibility that brings Ancient Mythology to life so vividly that its influence can still be felt today (The Forest Spirit alone has been homaged all over the place). And yes, the music is hauntingly beautiful, at once capturing the gentle rhythm of nature but also the elegiac tone of Life Moving On. And yes, the story is an incredible mixture of the Broad Mythic Strokes of an Ancient Legend grounded in all too human Emotions and Ideas about the balance of nature, the full meaning and cost of Warfare, and perhaps most important of all, about how we determine Right and Wrong when everyone involved in a conflict is fighting simply for the right to survive. But all of those things add up together to something even greater than a simple sum, because each one isn’t just good in its own right but because each element so perfectly reinforces the other. And even having said all that? I really could just carry on singing this movie’s praises. Just...an absolute masterpiece, top to bottom.

1.)

I don’t imagine any of you are terribly surprised at this, right? I almost feel like it’d be redundant to explain my love for this movie, given how self-obvious I imagine it is to basically everyone who knows me Literally At All. But heck, I’ve rambled on this long, why not go all the way? Because the thing of it is, “Gojira” (to be clear, the original Japanese movie from 1954 rather than its American edit, “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” from 1956) doesn’t just top the list by being a Great Movie. Though to be clear, it really is. Flawless? No; there’s a reliance on puppetry that even for the time can be a bit chintzier than the movie can really afford, in particular. But brilliant, even so, a heart-wrenching example of Science Fiction Storytelling As Allegory, one that, in a rarity not just for its own genre but indeed for many movies in general, very meaningfully lingers on its deepest, darkest implications. Many a film critic has pointed it out, and it remains true: the stark black-and-white photography heightens the sense of Implacable Horror at the core of the story, and the way the central Melodrama, a tragic love triangle that carries with it many aspects of Class Conflict and Personal Desire VS. The Collective Good, ties back into the main story is truly beautiful in its elegance and emotional impact. Still, for me personally, it tops the list, now and always, because it is a movie that affirmed something for me, that the character I had fallen in love with as a child convincing his family to watch a monster movie with him on television to prove his seven-year-old bravery, really was as genuinely as powerful and meaningful a figure as I had always imagined him to be.

#movies #meme #gojira007

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rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

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Fic: leaves eddied over the earth’s scars (fixed)

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Additional Tags: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Regret, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Summary: Lan WangJi wakes to find Wei WuXian quietly grieving his shijie.

Notes: Spectre was supposed to be a one-shot, but guess not. The title is a line from the poem “Try to Praise the Mutilated World,” which is also the series title. Also, I dumbly initially set this in the fall, but Jiang YanLi's birthday is supposedly May 2. So I fixed it and added the symbolism of the magnolia blossom. For those who don't know, in China magnolia blossoms tend to symbolize womanly beauty and gentleness, which suits YanLi. This is the corrected version.

AO3 link

Spectre

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Lan WangJi wakes without knowing what has disrupted his sleep. The jingshi is silent, and Wei Ying’s side of the bed is empty and unrumpled. But he has grown used to Wei Ying’s late nights; that alone would not disturb his sleep.

The silver light of a barely-waning moon spills into their home, the door slid open and letting the soft, chill breeze of late April pour in. When Lan WangJi sits up, he can barely see the shadow of Wei Ying’s figure on the porch.

A sense of unease prickles at his skin as moments tick by and there is no movement, and finally Lan WangJi stands, drawing on his outer robe and bringing Wei Ying’s with, padding barefoot to the door.

Wei Ying is curled in on himself, seated at the edge of the porch with his forehead on one knee. In his lap is a rabbit that has of late taken a liking to him, a gentle white doe dappled in brown spots so light they were almost pink. Fallen white petals from the nearby magnolia tree surround him, a few adorning his robes.

The scene would be lovely to behold if not for tears that glimmer on Wei Ying’s face in the moonlight.

Lan WangJi moves to him immediately, stepping over what appears to be an unopened jar of Emperor’s Smile. He drapes the outer robes around his shoulders, then sits behind him and gathers him close, resting his chin on Wei Ying’s shoulder. There is a tension in him, as though he is so taut he might snap.

“Wei Ying, I’m here.”

“Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, shivering as he leans into his embrace. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lan WangJi wishes he had, wonders if there are other nights that find Wei Ying crying alone. Or, perhaps worse, drinking himself numb. Even if tonight has been the first time, the placement of the moon suggests it is after midnight; he has potentially been out here for hours alone, in quiet pain.

“Tell me?”

He makes it a request, not a demand, something Wei Ying is free to deny if he wishes. Over a minute ticks by in silence, so long he thinks perhaps all he can do was hold him in the moonlight.

But then Wei Ying lets out a long sigh.

“Next week would have been shijie’s birthday.”

Though it’s barely a whisper, Lan WangJi can only describe his tone as lost. He understands; for Wei Ying, it will be the first birthday since her passing.

After Wei Ying’s death every anniversary had felt like a fresh lash against his soul—their meeting, the cold spring cave, the battle against the XuanWu of Slaughter… all through the day he’d plummeted to his death. The first year had been the worst.

Lan WangJi wonders how many anniversaries he has quietly grieved alone like this, hiding his pain. He had faced his grief alone, refusing to impose upon his brother, but he doesn’t want Wei Ying to face this alone.

“Tell me about her?”

He keeps it as a request, willing to simply sit here and hold him if that is what Wei Ying needs.

“Ah, you met her, Lan Zhan.”

Something in the way he says it is hesitant, though, and so Lan WangJi responds gently.

“I do not know her as Wei Ying does.”

He purposefully keeps the phrase in the present tense, for Jiang YanLi lives on in the memories of her brothers. He knows Wei Ying has noticed when his breath hitches and he shifts to the side in Lan WangJi’s arms to lean his head against his chest, gently repositioning the rabbit as he does.

Comparing Wei Ying’s speech to a burst dam, though a common metaphor, is inaccurate; rather, words come slowly, sometimes haltingly.

Lan WangJi learns of Jiang YanLi’s dedication to keeping him safe and happy, how she found him up a tree and coaxed him down and home and filled him with warm soup and love. Of her smiles at his antics, and how he sought to keep her smiling through childish behavior. Of how she tried to shield him from Madam Yu’s rages.

Far more than a sister; he is grieving the loss of a surrogate mother. He knows of Wei Ying’s childhood, of the time spent fighting dogs for food in the streets following the death of his parents before Jiang FengMian had finally found him. Lan WangJi is reminded of his own inconsolable grief at his mother’s death. The similarities are incomplete, but pain is not meant to be compared—only acknowledged and eased.

If only he knew how.

Between the lines he hears another fear: that without Jiang YanLi the rift between Wei Ying and Jiang WanYin will never mend, that she was what brought them together, that without her any reconciliation is impossible.

Tears have seeped through the layers he is wearing by the time Wei Ying falls quiet, his breath still hitching irregularly.

“It was my fault she was there. If I hadn’t stopped at Koi Tower…”

Lan WangJi knows how these regrets work, having questioned his own actions for years, critiquing everything he could have done differently that might have saved him. After learning from Wen QiongLin of Wei Ying’s secret, the loss of his golden core, he knows just how many mistakes he made.

“She would have sought you regardless,” he says, and knows it to be true. Just as he had come, Jiang YanLi would have out of love.

A tremor runs through Wei Ying, and Lan WangJi brings one hand up to thread through his hair in a comforting motion.

“She wished to protect you.” And she did goes unsaid.

“She shouldn’t have,” is so soft he barely hears it, and he can’t stop himself from clutching Wei Ying tighter against him. The rabbit kicked at them, squirming out from between them to settle on the porch beside them; Lan WangJi barely registers it.

“She sacrificed herself and I just—“

“Wei Ying.” He can’t bear for him to complete that thought. “That was not you. The Book of Turmoil…”

The sob that rips itself from Wei Ying seems to echo in the still air.

“How can you be so sure?”

There is an air of desperation to his voice, and it pains Lan WangJi that Wei Ying has been so wronged, lost so much, been led to doubt even himself.

“Su MinShan played at Nightless City, just as he did at Qiongpi Path.”

A tremor passes through Wei Ying at the mention of that place.

“His target was me,” Lan WangJi whispers. “Your death was his weapon.”

The events at Guanyin Temple had left him with little doubt: Su MinShan had killed Jiang YanLi to break Wei Ying, to leave him susceptible to the music, knowing he would be too strong to succumb without excessive measures. Just as the other cultivators had given into their worst inclinations, their amplified lust for power leading them to fight each other over the remains of the Stygian Tiger Seal, Wei Ying had succumbed to self-loathing so deep it had led him to...

He can’t finish that thought, panic and grief threatening despite the warmth of Wei Ying in his arms.

Lan WangJi suspects Jiang WanYin had been similarly affected, that perhaps some of the rage that the man still holds onto was truly anger at his own actions.

Or perhaps he just hopes this is the case for Wei Ying’s sake.

“That was not you,” he says again.

Wei Ying’s fingers trace one of the discipline scars that peeks above his night robes, as though he recognizes it as a physical symbol of their trauma. Lan WangJi resists the temptation to trace the almost invisible scar at Wei Ying’s throat, trying not to remember his attempt to convince him his life was not worth sealing his spiritual energy. Even so, he can’t quite contain a shudder at the phantom memory.

“Lan Zhan…” His breath is hot against his collarbone. “Does it ever end, Lan Zhan?”

He knows he is speaking of grief, of trauma and regret and guilt. It had for him, but only because Wei Ying had returned, the notes of their song played by a masked man on a mountain thirteen years into his grief bringing tears to his eyes and hope to his soul.

“I did not wish it to,” Lan WangJi admits.

Letting go of it would have felt like letting go of him, and that he couldn’t bear.

Fingers come to rest on his cheek, wiping at moisture he didn’t realize was there.

“Oh, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying’s voice is grieved, but the apology is implied rather than spoken. They had promised, after all.

“Together,” Lan WangJi tells him. “We can try together.”

“Together,” Wei Ying echoes, but adds nothing more.

Lan WangJi is not good with words; this conversation has required more of them than he can usually manage. But he knows Wei Ying still needs them, needs reassurance, from the way he is pressed close, pliable, drooping against him, the tension eased somewhat but still present under the surface. It would be easy to let action take over and distract, but that will not heal.

“How do you wish to celebrate Jiang YanLi’s birth?” he finally manages, uncertain of what else to say; he only hopes these words will help, not harm.

Nearly a minute passes in silence, and he wonders if he failed, but then Wei Ying speaks so softly he almost doesn’t understand the words, as though he is speaking to himself.

“I wouldn’t be welcome.”

Lan WangJi has to quash old anger before he can reply.

“I will write to Jiang WanYin. We will go to Yunmeng, if that is your wish.”

Welcome or not, there will be words if Wei Ying is denied, he decides. Perhaps sixteen years’ worth.

Wei Ying doesn’t reply, doesn’t say no, only trembles in his arms, and though he knows it is not, Lan WangJi decides to interpret it as cold, lifts him to his feet and wraps the robe more snugly around him.

He stoops to pick up the rabbit, leaving the untouched jar of Emperor’s Smile to put away in the morning. Wei Ying’s eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale in the moonlight, as pale as he had been at Nightless City. He looks delicate, like he might break. Again.

He looks exhausted.

Lan WangJi hands him the rabbit, then scoops him into his arms, meeting no resistance as he brings him into the jingshi, tucks him into bed, pulling away only to place the rabbit in a small hutch near the bed usually reserved for ill or injured ones.

He isn’t certain whether either of them will truly sleep tonight, but he gathers Wei Ying to him, runs a hand soothingly against his back until his breathing is calm and regular anyway. Even if he isn’t asleep, he is at least no longer so tense it feels he could shatter.

Tomorrow he will make arrangements for Uncle to take over his duties during his absence, will write the letter to Jiang WanYin and send it, will visit XiChen in his seclusion so he won’t worry at his absence and to explain his intentions in Yunmeng, will begin preparations for the journey.

Most important, he will watch Wei Ying, give him what he needs so they can face their pain together.

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #wangxian #jiang yanli #my fanfiction #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

One Temptation

Part 5

*This new series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @beardedoafdonutwagon @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree-0816

Warnings: Swearing

*******

“D-Drake?” A fusion of emotions ran through her body immediately- anger that he hadn’t contacted her, shock that he was there, upset that he was in this state.

“What happened to you?” Cupping his cheeks, her eyes scrutinised his body for any other possible injuries.

“Drake don’t ignore me! What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened, I fucked you.” Abruptly removing her hands, her previous emotions had now turned into full rage anger.

“It takes two to tango! You could have just left me in the kitchen on my own!”

“I wish I did!”

“Riley I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean it like that... i can’t stop thinking about you... “I’m sorry okay?”

“No it’s not okay, I was just a fuck to you. I understand. Don’t you worry. Shame whoever did this to you didn’t finish you off!”

“It was fucking Liam that did this to me, you know what go back to him. I mean you kissed him right- I was just a rebound correct?”

“If it makes you feel better yes you was a rebound, a shit one at that...” I’m lying, I was falling for you immediately... “Goodbye Drake.”

“Riley wait!”

Riley stormed into the kitchen area, nearly taking the hinges off the door. Maxwell, Bertrand and Savannah wondered what had gone off- they had hoped that the two of them could rekindle and fight against Liam.

“Riley! For fuck sake wait!” Drake shouted, running after her.

“What’s gone off?” Maxwell was still feeling drunk, hoping his drunk mind was misreading the commotion that was happening in front of him.

“Max give me Liam’s address now!”

“What? Why? Are you crazy?”

“I was! I was crazy thinking someone actually cared for me. Are you going to help me or not?”

“No!”

“Fine! See you all around.” Waving her hands in the air, she stormed out of the apartment. She had truly sobered up.

*****

Riley ran out of the apartment building- not looking back, not knowing what to do or where to go. Feeling guilty that she was potentially about to cock block- she was desperate for Liam’s address.

Leo can I have Liam’s address please?

What why?

Just please. I need to talk to him in person.

Leo text her back the address, if he was sober and not about to get laid- his sensible head would have refused to give it her.

Arriving at the address, she pressed the buzzer- wet through due to the rain, she had wished she had just gone home and slept the disastrous ending to the night away.

“Ri?” Liam answered the door believing he was hallucinating- never in his life did he expect to see Riley at his house.

“Hi. Erm. Can we talk?”

“Come in. You’re wet through.” Riley walked into the living area, it was elegant- of course it would be he was a millionaire. Both standing staring at each other not knowing how to break the silence, they were both disturbed by the tiny footsteps behind them.

“Belle!”

You have to be kidding me, Alice is his.

“Oh. Hey Alice, hows the arm?”

“Great thanks to you. What are you doing here?”

“Erm, ‘Belle’ is one of daddies old friends.”

Alice looked between the two of them. “Well are you going to warm her up? She looks cold daddy.” I wish I could Alice, she wouldn’t ever allow me to do that again.

“Why don’t you go back to bed? It’s very late.”

“Yes daddy, but I just wanted some milk.” Liam poured his daughter a glass of milk before bending down, kissing his daughter goodnight. “Bye Belle.” Riley smiled, and waved to the young girl- before returning her gaze onto her ex boyfriend.

“So you’re the infamous Belle, what are you doing here?”

“Have you got something to tell me? Where’s the witch?”

“The witch is out for the night. And what are referring to? Don’t you have something to tell me? Like how you fucked my brother senseless for a week?”

“Yeah and? It was just sex. You know what I’m referring to- his name is Drake.”

“You deserve someone better than Drake, Ri.”

“What like you? So you beat him up? It’s none of your business who I decide to sleep with or date. You lost all those rights the minute you produced that adorable little girl behind my back.”

“I shouldn’t have done that to him, it was a moment of madness. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s too late to apologise. I better get going. But just so you know, I’m single. I can do what I want.” Liam pulled her into his embrace trying to calm the situation down, noticing her shiver- he knew she would reject his suggestion.

“Take your clothes off, at least let them dry- have a coffee to warm you up then I’ll call you a cab.” Riley was freezing, but she didn’t want to wander around his house in the nude, especially with their past.

“Riley, I’m thinking about you- I won’t come near you. I’ll even give you one of my shirts to wear.”

“Fine!”

Liam stuck to his words, at times he was tempted to just force another kiss on her. They spoke like civil adults during the duration she was there. Once her clothes were dry, he walked her to the door.

“It’s been nice to see you Ri, maybe we could do it again soon?”

“Maybe. Goodnight.” He knew she would never return the feelings, but he took a risk. Kissing her, she didn’t pull back immediately.

“I really should go.”

“I love you, don’t you ever forget that.”

“Goodnight Liam.”

******

In Bertrand’s apartment, the friends were all awaiting for Drake to explain what had caused world war three. Maxwell eventually broke the silence.

“What did you do?”

“I fucked up as usual. She hates me. She was wanting to know what had happened, touched me. Then I fucked up giving her the impression that I only used her for sex. I didn’t. Ever since we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. And now she’s gone running back to Liam- all because I can’t express my true feelings.”

“You’re an idiot. She’s in love with you. A drunk mind speaks the truth and she had been non stop talking about you Drake. Fuck Liam.”

“What my brother means is ignore Liam. He can’t force you away from each other.”

*****

Two months had gone by since Riley had seen Drake and the others. In all honesty, she had been ignoring everyone. She was on edge every time someone walked into the strip club. Needing space from everyone, she would eventually speak to them all again. Rita and the girls had taught her a few more moves on the pole, tonight they had a special show to perform. Riley was nervous about it, but Mercedes had ensured that she would be fine. During the day, she had applied for jobs in retail and applied to go back to college hoping to better herself.

*****

The men all decided to meet up at Maxwell’s- Liam included. This would be awkward, but they were all concerned about Riley’s welfare after not hearing from her. Wondering if she had done a moonlight flit again.

“She hasn’t been in the club whenever I’ve been.” Leo explained. “I even forced Olivia to go with me a few times- hoping that if she was there she may speak to a woman if she wanted to avoid me.”

“Same. Every time I’ve been, they said that she was off shift and was unsure of her location.” Maxwell explained softly, Drake remained silent- knowing all this was his fault. If only he had remained calm that night- allowed her to comfort him, explained what had happened then maybe she would still be talking to them all.

Liam knocked on the door, nervous to see Drake. He had regretted what he had done after he saw how hurt Riley was. For the rest of his life, he would continue loving her- fighting for her. But if she didn’t want him back, he couldn’t blame her.

“Liam, I’d usually say it’s good to see you. But I’m not going to lie- you broke this wolf pack up. The important question is, have you seen or heard from Riley?”

“No. She came to mine two months ago- when I last saw her, we spoke. Then she left. Drake, I’m sorry for everything.” Holding his hand out towards Drake, he shook his head. Maybe he was acting stubborn? He could forgive Liam in time, but would never forget.

Fucking arsehole, I hate you. No hate is a nasty word to use. Just remain calm, ignore the prick.

“Stay out of my way Liam, and I’ll stay out of yours? Okay?” Liam just nodded, knowing full well that he was in the wrong. Deep down he was jealous that Drake had stolen her heart.

“So, we go to the strip club- hope she’s working tonight?” Bertrand suggested, even though he hated those type of places.

“Yes. If not we will have to think of another tactic. Come on, let’s find that stubborn bitch.”

*****

Walking into the strip club, the men wondered why it was so hectic compared to other nights.

“Pour some sugar on me... I love this song!” Maxwell exclaimed, before Leo punched him to calm him down. All the men noticed Riley stood on top of the bar, barely wearing anything- the other woman was pointing the soda gun towards her- soda running down her body, whilst men in the audience gawked at her.

“As much as she looks sexy as fuck, what the fuck is she doing to herself? She’s degrading herself!” Leo snapped, not daring to look at the others expressions.

“Hey Ri, aren’t those your friends?” Looking over to where Mercedes pointed, she froze- shit. Jumping off the bar, she ran towards the back room- Leo forced his way through the crowd, grabbing her he pulled her into a secluded corner.

“Care to explain?”

“It’s dancing Leo.”

“You’re not fucking starring in coyote ugly. What has happened to you in the last two months? You have two men out there who love you- and you allow dirty old men to practically dribble over you. I’m not saying this nastily- I care for you a hell of a lot, so cover yourself up.”

“You never said that to me in Florida... maybe Olivia has changed you. I’m happy for you Leo. Please just let me live my life.”

“She has changed me. I’m grateful for you forcing her to have a drink with me. But Riley, look at those two. They’ve made amends because they both love you. If you want to be with one of them, you have to make that choice and tell them. I’d love for you to be my sister in law, even though it would be awkward. But I know you had that connection with Drake.”

“Yeah the man who clearly said I was just a ‘fuck’...”

“Will you stop being so stubborn, he realised he fucked up- he can’t express feelings that well, he’s not a charmer like us Rhys’s.” Winking at her, she shook her head- knowing that he wasn’t exactly great with chat up lines after her experience watching him in Florida. Thinking back to her one night stand with Drake, a few sentences had stuck in her mind on a loop over the last couple of months.

“Well I’ll give you a ‘compliment’ back. You’re beautiful”

“I’d be honoured to have you in my arms even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Leo, there’s something I need to tell you. I feel I trust you the most, well I actually trust Maxwell the most because I’m closer to him, but not with secrets he’s too risky.”

“Anything. What’s up?” Feeling like she was about to hyperventilate- her body began to shake uncontrollably, she soon backed out of telling him the truth.

“The truth is, I’ve missed you all. Excuse me I think I’m going to be sick. I promise I’ll come and see you all.”

*****

Leo went and sat down with the others as Mercedes flaunted herself around them seductively. Liam decided to ‘pay her off’ as she was ‘suffocating’ them all.

“What’s up with Riley? We noticed she was shaking. Then she ran off.” Maxwell whispered.

“She said she needed to tell me something, then spouted bullshit instead.”

“What do you mean?” Before Leo could respond, Riley ambled to the table- keeping to her promise. Avoiding looking at Liam and Drake, she hugged Bertrand, Max and Leo.

“So what did you need to tell Leo?” Leo and Riley’s eyes widened- she could throttle Leo, only moments prior to sitting down she told him Maxwell was too risky to trust with secrets or anything for that matter. He had no filter.

“That I missed you all. I’m sorry for being ignorant. I’m sorting my life out.”

“By degrading yourself? It’s nice to see you with some clothes on!” Bertrand snapped.

“Oh B are you jealous that you’re the only one to not see me practically naked?” Smirking, he was shocked with her response- she couldn’t be bothered with him berating her over her poor life decisions.

“Enough of that. Now are you going to come back home with Maxwell?”

“No. I’m getting my own apartment, but are staying here for the meantime. It’s been good to see you all, but I need to go.” Standing up she held her hand to her mouth whilst gipping, running towards the bathroom she made it just in time.

“That’s the second time she’s been sick in a short time. Drake? When you slept with her... did you... you know? Use protection” Leo asked, already knowing the answer due to his facial expression. Shit that’s what she wanted to tell me.

Liam also studied Drake’s facial expression, his heart sunk at the feeling of the possibility that Riley was pregnant with someone other than him. It’s my own fault, don’t blame anyone but yourself Liam. Act civil for once in your life. “You should go and talk to her.” Liam told him with a soft fake smile.

*****

Drake entered the women’s bathroom, not caring about what people would say.

“Riley?” Opening the door after hearing his voice, her heart sunk. She had missed him the most even if she knew him for the least amount of time.

“What do you want Drake? The bar is out there...”

“I wanted to make sure you was okay?” Making her way over to the sink, she could feel his eyes watching her every move.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Leo said you’d been sick twice. Is there a chance you could be pregnant? If so is it mine?”

“I’m... I’m not pregnant.”

“Well you really should get yourself checked out by a gp.”

“I will. How are you anyway?”

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to play best buddies with a certain blonde prick.” Laughing, it was the first smile he had seen on her face. It was a beautiful smile, that made his heart flutter.

“You’re a better man than he is, I wouldn’t even look at him after what he did- never mind socialise with him.”

“Maybe I was brought up to respect people better.”

“Even those who you just ‘fuck’?” Thinking back to the night he had ‘disappeared’ she was unsure about how it all went wrong. How much anger Liam had caused between the two of them.

“I can’t stop thinking about you Drake.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Listen to me, I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I meant what I said when I told you that I liked you too.”

“I can’t do this Drake, I’m sorry. I’m not breaking my heart again.” Shit, I’ve lost her exactly like Liam did. Except I lost her in a second compared to his years. Pulling her into his embrace, he cupped her cheeks- his eyes searching hers. His distinctive scent, made her feel intoxicated. Wanting to pull his lips on to her own lips- she decided against. Because of Liam she had lost a lot of trust in men- not knowing what to do with her life or future.

“If you feel that way, I’ll leave you alone, I’ll even move away if it makes you feel better. But I know that night we spent together will be one of the best nights I’ve had in my life- with the most perfect woman. You’re amazing don’t you ever forget that.” Before Riley could react, they were interrupted by Mercedes.

“Hey babe, Rita wants a word with you. Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“No it’s fine, I was just leaving.” Watching Drake leave, she was in a dilemma with his words that he had spoken. Was he being sincere? Did their argument just include words out of spite. She had lied to him informing him that he was a poor one night stand- when in fact it was the best sex she had ever had.

“So what is happening between you and the hottie?” Smirking, Mercedes was eager for some new gossip.

“Nothing. I’m not allowing any man to break my heart anymore especially Drake- someone I actually had feelings for immediately.”

“Ah so he is the infamous Drake? Your baby daddy. Did you tell him?”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #drakewalker #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #liam rhys #bertrand beaumont #leo rhys #drake x riley #drake x mc #trr au one temptation

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