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werezmastarbucks · 5 years

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Whitmore Guy - the ghost

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

word count: 2044

warnings: none

“Have you seen the new IT guy yet?”

“The uh- what?” Ric was trying to consume a chocolate bar without taking his eyes or hands off the paper he was grading. Y/N sighed patiently – or, rather, to gain some patience. Every time she felt like yelling at Saltzman she took a deep breath and travelled down the memory lane back to the times when he was just a history teacher at school. Back when they were all teens with awkwardly round faces and acne, trying really hard to impress each other, and survive ‘animal attacks’ that just started happening in the town. She recalled thinking the new teacher was actually a vampire. The sheer stupidity of her, while Stefan Salvatore was literally sitting next to her.

Back then, Ric was still youthful, energetic, even handsome, as some girls claimed. Y/N always perceived him as a parent figure, the uncle you may bump into in a bar you go to with your mates to pretend you’re old enough. To think that this grumpy, scruffy grandpa thirty-hundred years old used to be that energetic, bopping teacher they could all trust…

“I’m saying, have-you-met-Mal-yet?”

“Huh?” Ric looked up to her, and his hand inserted the bar into his mouth quickly, so that he could start chewing.

“Are you doing okay, mister Saltzman?”

Y/N called him that when she was trying to be ironic.

“We got a new IT guy? Where the hell is he? I’ve been struggling with this thing for ages”, Alaric pointed at his laptop, safely shut, after it had vomited a siren-like crackling earlier that morning. God only knows what kind of websites Ric has been visiting.

“He’s been in for like, couple of days”.

“Yeah, that’s when the password changed, I saw that”, Saltzman frowned, “that note on the first floor, on the notice board, said that there was a treasure map or crap like this. The whole place has been running on mobile since Monday. Is he toying with us? Who hired him?”

“It’s ‘revenant94’.

“What?”

“The password”.

Y/N settled her coffee mug on the desk and stretched her back, checking the room for people simultaneously. They were alone in the teacher’s space; Y/N liked sneaking in here for lunch breaks or when she just felt overwhelmed, to socialize, bizarrely.

“Anyway, I’ve met him the other day. And he’s weird”.

There it is. The magical spot to hit, to light that hunting spark in Alaric Saltzman’s light green eyes. He has always been an adventurer first and everything else second. Vampire hunting was just a necessary measure in the dire conditions given to him at the point of his life.

“Bad-weird?”

“Weird-weird”, she still wasn’t sure they were completely safe chatting about this in here. She got up and closed the door gently. Then Y/N started pacing lazily between the unevenly placed desks, standing checkers to chess, in a mysterious pattern.

“He looks too good, and he acts too friendly. He is…” she tried to find the word, it was on the tip of her tongue, and yet, it escaped.

“Weird”.

“Your notoriously inaccurate gut feeling once placed an innocent man among monsters”, Ric reminded her.

She recalled that. That one time she was completely sure her neighbor Bruce killed her father, for reasons she wouldn’t be able to awaken anymore. In reality, they still didn’t know who did it, but it wasn’t Bruce as the man was away from the town the night it happened.

“Don ‘t you allow that maybe you think he’s weird because he’s cute? Sometimes you say weird when you mean adorable. Or angry. Or upset. You just generally like labeling people freaks”.

“Okay, you’re not taking it seriously”.

Ric threw himself back in the chair and sighed noisily. He studied the ceiling for some time.

“In our life, Y/N, we have every right to be paranoid about good things. After everything that’s happened every nice thing comes across as a warning. That’s a normal reaction. But if you think he’s off, I’ll check on him, sure. I mean, I will meet him inevitably, right?”

They looked at each other. Y/N shrugged.

______________________________________________________________

Ric wasn’t able to get ahold of Mal for the whole of next week, in fact, and it was strange how for the first seven days of Mal’s working Y/N was the only person who’s been talking to him. The guy even complained once that he felt like a ghost, which sparkled the whole new package of fiery theories in her. Then, the next day, she saw Mal chat with the English major student. In a rather flirtatious way, mind you; but it at least proved he was real.

Alaric was left a little puzzled after Mal had fixed his barely breathing laptop; but mostly annoyed.

‘How fast is this guy talking? Does he ever breathe or something?’

To her question, whether he was able to place Mal among any species of supernatural creatures, Saltzman replied something along the lines of yeah, a sickeningly energetic young man with ego, which in his language usually meant abnormal, but not alarming. Y/N was more than sure that Ric gave up on life and just tried to get away from the IT guy as far as possible. What happened to the previous one anyway? Some people said he’d left. Others claimed he just disappeared after Friday’s party at the Craze, a new bar opened almost on the border with Mystic Falls. Nobody really cared. Mal managed to charm just about everybody – that is, when people finally started seeing him – except a few very exhausted individuals who refused to enjoy life.

The feeling Y/N was getting about Mal was inexplicable, good, too good, in fact. She was torn between enthusiastic and careful; one feels that way when a person calls you in the middle of the night and tells you that you have won a billion dollars. How come you don’t remember buying the lottery ticket?

The fact that he had a girlfriend wasn’t all that important – Y/N craved companionship, not romance; her friends were enough but they were all carrying weight of, well, ten years of fighting this damn town. Mal didn’t have all that. He blasted music in the basement where he had built himself a mancave using old boxes and discarded cupboards from the science floors. He always smiled. He was smart. He didn’t take any shit from anybody. And for some uneven reason, he treated Y/N like she was his partner in crime. Maybe that was the most suspicious thing. Y/N always wanted an older brother, and all male figures she chose to act in that character, pushed back.

_____________________________________________________________

Damon weighed the glass in his hand lazily.

“Caroline’s been livid with you about the dance party?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her knee. Ever since Caroline graduated, she’s been delegating her tasks to Y/N, who apparently had nothing better to do than organize two celebrations every month. No wonder she completely forgot about the selection of music for that one party that was supposed to happen at the end of the month, vaguely described as a nostalgia flick. Many times Y/N got ready to say, hey, Caroline. I have my own shit to do. If you want these events, come back to the college, get a job and do it yourself. I have tons of crying young adults every day whimpering over their dead dogs and burnt deadlines, and frankly, I deserve four holidays a year.

But she never said it, somehow.

“I am turning into a pusharound”, she realized, as she stood up, walking to the Damon’s sacred alcohol table. She took a glass which burst in a welcoming ringing, and poured herself a little of smelly golden liquid.

“I thought you liked organizing things. Whatever happened to ‘I’ll make them all dance to Stevie Nicks until their butts fall off?”

“It faded, Damon, it went down into my shit storm of a work. I am drained. I’ve been feeling completely lost for the last six months”.

The vampire’s sharp eyebrows made a gracious swing. Every time Damon did his trademark face of an Italian statue Y/N couldn’t help but remember the years when she’d been helplessly in love with him. She and her knee-length socks, and lots of jewellery, and bravery of a suicidal teenager, she thought that was enough to win his love. The disappointment was bitter.

“Why’s that?”

“Eh”, she brushed it off, relaxing deep in the sofa, outstretching her feet, “autumn was nasty, you know that kind of seasonal decline, and then, no snow in winter, and bang, it’s cold spring, and you gotta not eat again because nervous… and it felt like it’s been two days since Matt died, but when I look at the clock, it’s already mid May, and I can’t believe it. I feel like I haven’t processed his death properly, and it’s tugging on me. But I don’t really know what to do at this point. Everybody’s moved on”.

Damon drowned his face into his glass with that preoccupied look he wore when he couldn’t cope with what he started. Sometimes, he could only listen. That was the least he could do for the girl. Listen to her babbling away, and remember that it could have been much worse, she could have been much further away from him.

“Thank God I have my buddy now and I even almost figured out what to do with this shit faced party. No more parties after this one… I’ll tell her I won’t organize stuff people don’t appreciate, I mean…”

“What buddy?” Damon intervened passively.

Y/N jumped up, balancing the glass in her hand, and decided it would be best to down it until she poured it all on Damon’s couch, and he tore all her hair out. She gulped whiskey in two breaths, trying to clench her teeth so that she doesn’t puke it all back. As soon as the drink flows down and reaches whatever cells there are, it will soothe her, and clear her head. She sat on her legs, piercing Damon with a concerned look.

“There’s this new IT guy at Whitmore. He’s too cool to be true, and everybody loves him, except for Ric, and I’m sure you’ll absolutely hate him, too”.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s very chatty and charming, like a complete psychopath. He’s got dead eyes but he’s incredibly funny, and we listen to the same music. He’s always up for anything. He’s too…”

The look on Salvatore’s face said he understood exactly the type of person this guy was. Damon met many a folk like that; take Kol, that idiotic creature that was draining life of every party of people. Or early version of Jeremy, depressed yet too loud, craving attention. Or even Forbes herself; now she’s a friend, but back in the times, she was unbearable. Damon still had vague nightmares in which Caroline was trying to get him to go on a picnic in her usual commanding squeaky voice.

“So, steer his energy in doing this dance for you. And go easy on yourself, little one”.

When Damon called her that, Y/N felt like she was sixteen again, laying at the den of a tiger, if tigers dug caves or, like, very complicated dungeons, with skulls of their enemies scattered and the suggestive fires blazing along the walls. She shivered internally, asking herself, how she had managed to finally escape Damon’s glamor. She remembered being completely heartbroken, and then suddenly, she wasn’t. Good for her.

“Yeah, I’ll get him to help me. But I would be stoked if you could examine him. Ric couldn’t take him, the guy’s too colorful. I have a weird feeling about him”.

“What kind?”

She was tired of shrugging with confusion.

“Just do it. You’ll see. There’s something wrong about him”.

“Do you always hang out with people you deem suspicious?” Damon sounded painfully familiar. Ric and him, they became almost like a married couple over the years. Same old narrative, sung in slightly different tempos.

“Okay”, he gave up. “I’ll come to your nostalgia flick dance thing, and I’ll take a look at him. Will that make you happy?”

She looked at the alcohol sanctuary again.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #damon salvatore #vampire diaries #whitmore guy

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yergink · 4 years

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Bravery and a Bowline Ch.3

I think this could partially count as whump, but mostly it's just shameless hurt/comfort. Plus, getting in some Willow POV!

3k words

First Chapter

Crossposted to Ao3

Summary: Willow learns what Walter's afraid of.

Warning for slight medical/wound imagery

It’s nearly sunset when the barking starts.

It begins quietly, as usual. A low rumbling, the mesh of growls upon growls that could almost be mistaken for the sound of the wind rolling over the hills. This time, Webber is the one who hears it first. He’s playing cup-and-ball by the firepit when he freezes suddenly, head lifting in alarm and announcing, “Doggies!”

Within the breath it takes for the warning to register, Willow abandons the strips of meat she’d been hanging on their drying racks, rushing to scoop her spear off the ground and gesturing for the kids to follow her out of camp. Wendy takes a few extra minutes to collect Walter, urging him to hurry. By the time Willow latches the gate shut behind them, Webber’s already started a beeline for the forest where the spider nests sit, dragging an axe in the dirt behind him. Wendy speaks softly to her flower, and after a moment, Abigail bursts out of it, glowing and angry, huddling close to her sister. Willow trusts the two of them will be safe.

Meanwhile, Walter keeps glancing around at all of them, looking confused.

“There are dogs?” he says, carrying a half-asleep Woby in his arms. It makes Willow’s heart ache, just how hopeful his tone is. She’d thought that, upon being here this long, he’d have figured out that there weren’t many things on this wretched island that were friendly.

“These aren’t good dogs,” she warns, taking his arm and leading them away from the camp and towards where the beefalo herds roamed the plains. Walter threads quietly, and she wishes he would move a bit faster.

“All dogs can be good,” he says plainly, like there’s no room for debate. “Maybe Woby can make friends with them.” Willow doesn’t give a reply to that, lacking the heart to argue. She wishes she could have even a fraction of his optimism.

The sun is just a sliver of light above the horizon, and Willow flicks her lighter on anxiously, in anticipation of night. Walter has set Woby down, and she’s threading between his legs, looking worried enough for the both of them. Willow puts a firm hand on Walter’s shoulder. “Listen,” she tells him. “Get a torch ready. Mostly, this’ll come down to avoiding them for as long as you can.” She points to the beefalo. “The dogs love a slow target, so after a while, they’ll get tired of chasing you and go after them instead. Got it?”

Walter nods tersely, still frowning. “Sure… But what do I do while they’re still after me?”

“You’ve got that slingshot on you, right?”

He nods again. It’s tucked away in his back pocket, along with several rounds.

“Shoot ‘em.”

They don’t get much more preparation time than that. Walter readies his slingshot, biting his lip dubiously. The barking is so loud now, Willow knows that any moment the pack will crest the hill, or burst from the grass, teeth bared.

She isn’t let down. The first hound springs from behind a tuft of grass like it’d simply materialized there, scrambling along the plains with spittle flying from its opened chops as it lunges towards them. Walter starts moving immediately, backing up and taking aim with his slingshot. Willow sees him get a shot into the first hound’s side before the rest of the pack rise to join it.

The first of the hounds reaches it, it’s jaws snapping shut where her arm had been just a moment ago. Willow slashes forward, grazing the tip of the spear along the beast’s face and neck. It loses its balance in the grass, but regains it quickly, snarling as it prepares for another lunge.

Just as it leaps, she stabs the spearpoint into its side, tearing it open and spraying thick, purple blood onto the grass. It attempts another snap at her before it dies, missing sloppily and collapsing. Unfortunately, another one quickly replaces it. She dodges the second hound’s teeth, keeping a distant eye on Walter sprinting around with a torch outstretched as another hound bites at his heels, Woby nowhere to be seen.

She isn’t given much time to divert her attention, as the hound bites at her again, and she just barely manages to avoid it, the yellowed fangs tearing into her sleeve instead of her arm. She swings the rod of the spear into its skull like a baseball bat, then jabs the spearpoint into it, kicking it away when it attempts to jump back up and knock her down. Somewhere behind her, she hears Walter yelp, and her heart sinks. With another good thrust, the hound falls, and she whips her head around, surveying the scene.

The rest of the pack had lost attention in them and had decided to try and attack the herd before being swiftly taken out. She sees the dogs’ bodies, bludgeoned and torn apart by horns, laying across the field. There isn’t time to scavenge, though.

Just then, a familiar high-pitched whine pierces the relative quiet, and it makes Willow’s blood freeze. Before she knows it, she’s squinting through the air, spinning around to pinpoint the source of the sound because that’s Woby’s whine, and something’s wrong because the dog sounds absolutely terrified.

She sees it then, a pinprick of light in the dark, and she sprints towards it, her heartbeat like thunder in her ears.

The light is from a fallen torch, smoldering quietly on the grass, and when Willow emerges from the shadows, she finds Walter sat on the ground beside it, his slingshot discarded and forgotten at his side, and Woby nearly howling in worry.

Immediately, Willow notices that he’s bleeding, and it barely takes a beat for her brain to switch to emergency mode. There’s a set of puncture wounds in his leg, just above his ankle, where a hound’s teeth had sunken in. He’s put his hands over the wound on instinct, pressing down and biting his lip from the pain. Willow quickly kneels, setting her lighter to the side and pulling his hands away.

She hisses air in through her teeth, unable to keep herself from muttering, “Shit,” as she gets a better look. It’s not the worst she’s seen, not by a longshot, but she does notice a spot of white in one of the marks where a fang had snapped off and stayed embedded in the flesh. Walter’s breathing is shallow, rapid and unnatural, and Willow moves to his side, trying to block his view of the wound while she checks him over.

“Hey,” she says, trying to get his attention. “You’re okay. You’re good. We’ll get back to camp and get this wrapped up and you’ll be all set, alright?” It’s hard to see under the blood, but the bite doesn’t look too deep, and the bleeding is sluggish, so she doesn’t think he’s in any immediate danger. She presses around the edges of the wound, feeling for fractures, but he seems to be fine on that front as well. Still, they’re going to need to disinfect it, and it’s sure to take a few days to heal. She silently scolds herself for letting this happen in the first place. She’s supposed to be looking after these kids for fuck’s sake.

She glances back up, ready to help him stand, and falters. Walter’s face has gone totally ashen, and he’s staring down at the blood on his hands like it’s the only thing he can see. His breathing is harsh, tears welling in his eyes. She thinks she can see his hands shaking.

He doesn’t move, even as she nudges him, and Woby keeps yapping and whining like crazy, pawing at his side and licking his face, but he’s barely responding to it. The look on his face makes her worry more than the bite does. It’s this blank, terrified expression that seems so foreign on him.

It makes her remember that, despite all he’s said, despite all the courage he’s shown, he’s still just a kid. Amidst everything, she’d somewhat forgotten that.

“Come on kid, you’re gonna be fine,” she murmurs, reaching for his shoulder. Although then, she hears something, and it gives her pause in the midst of the action, her head whipping back to the surrounding shadows.

From somewhere beyond the torch glow, a low snarl emits, a warning that the danger has not yet passed. Willow stands abruptly, grabbing her lighter and thrusting it out in front of her, trying to get a better view in the dark. The snarl comes again, louder this time. Another hound, still alive, stalking them.

Woby, noticing the still-present danger, whimpers and presses against Willow’s ankle. Willow glances down at the injured and unresponsive boy on the grass and realizes there’s only one thing she can do.

Hurriedly, she scoops Walter up, trying to avoid jostling his injured leg, and starts sprinting back across the field towards camp, hearing the hound’s barks fade behind her as it finds a less mobile target in the beefalo.

She’s got her lighter out, trying her best to avoid holding it too close to Walter’s face. He’s not fireproof like she is. Woby is racing somewhere in the dark alongside them, barking intermittently as if to alert her presence. As they’re running, Walter’s laying with his eyes squeezed shut, face tightened in a grimace. Willow just barely hears him say something over the roar of her pulse.

“What?” she asks.

“...tried to hit it,” he mumbles, and she glances down to find his eyes are cracked just barely open, looking vacantly up at her. “But it was too fast.”

“It’s okay, you did good,” Willow reassures, trying to move faster. Her calves ache, but she figures it might be good to get in a decent panicked run from time to time. It keeps her from getting too complacent.

By the time they reach camp, Webber and Wendy are already back, speaking quietly to each other by the unlatched gate. They both startle as Willow kicks it open, but she doesn’t give either a chance to say anything.

“Sorry we’re late!” she announces, shifting Walter in her arms. She brushes past the two children, avoiding their concerned stares as she ducks into the tent.

It’s warm and stuffy inside, especially compared to the chill late-autumn air, but Walter’s still shivering even as she carries him in. She lets the flap fall closed behind her, but Woby keeps pawing at it, barking anxiously. Willow barely has a moment to set Walter down among the wool blankets before letting the dog in.

Huddled there amongst the wools, Woby nosing up against his side, Walter looks incredibly small. She hadn’t realized how much of his presence relied on his boisterous personality and loud, confident voice. Seeing him like this, so quiet and still, it feels indescribably wrong.

Willow shakes her head. It wasn’t the time to ruminate. She digs out their box of medical supplies before turning her attention back to Walter. Although, when she does, she notices that his gaze seems to be fixated on something just over her shoulder. When Willow looks, she can’t see anything there.

Kneeling to his side, she taps his cheek with her palm, trying to get his attention. With difficulty, his eyes slide to meet hers, and she forces a small smile. “That’s it, kid. Don’t pay those things any mind, okay? It doesn’t help.”

A good night’s sleep would shake Them out of his sight, but for now, there’s a hound bite to deal with.

She opens the medical kit. Usually, in cases of precision treatment, Wilson would be the one to take over. He’s got a steadier hand than most of them, and experience on top of that, which made him the perfect candidate for it. But right now, he’s not here. It’s just Willow, staring down at their small homemade surgical kit, and a kit with a tooth stuck in his leg lying beside her. So she’s going to have to step up to the plate.

Walter’s still kind of out of it, but Woby seems to be doing her best to help in that department, licking his face and resting her paws over his chest. Her presence seems to help; Walter buries his fingers into her fur in long, slow pets.

They have several spider glands cleaned and stored for these sorts of occasions. Willow rips one of them open, wiping her hands clean before wetting a strip of fabric with the juice. The harsh smell of the antiseptic wafts, filling the tent, and she wrinkles her nose as it. Gently, she cleans around the wound, wiping away the blood and clearing the area around the tooth before putting the rag aside and taking the tweezers in hand.

She grips the base of the tooth with the tweezers, just below where it’s widest. The fang is jagged along one side, she knows, serrated enough to cause an uneven, messy cut, and that thought alone makes her wince at the prospect of removing it. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Faintly, she feels the urge to set something on fire.

“This’ll hurt a bit,” she warns, bracing Walter’s leg with one hand in case he flinches.

He’s lucid enough to brace as well, his eyes shutting tight as he tenses.

Willow shifts the tooth, angling it against the smoother side and beginning to draw it out. She doesn’t get very far though, because he sucks in an upset breath and yelps, “Stop!”

Willow does. She hesitates, watching his face twist in a frantic attempt to keep from sobbing. “I’m sorry, I know, but it has to come out,” she tries to soothe, moving her free hand to his arm. “You just gotta hold on a little bit. I’ll be quick about it.”

He turns his head to the side, breathing raggedly, and Willow thinks she’s not meant to see it, but a few tears slip down over his nose. After a few more squeaky inhales, he nods. “Okay,” he says shakily, the word small. “Do it.”

Returning to the tweezers, Willow holds her breath, angles the tooth, and pulls. It comes out in one clean piece, and she immediately sets it to the side and presses a rag against the wound to soak up the blood. She sees Walter’s fists clench around the blankets, but he does not make a sound.

She’s not sure if the wound needs to be stitched, but she doesn’t quite trust herself to do it, either way. Keeping pressure on the wound, she rummages through the box for the supplies for a healing salve.

She preps the salve one-handed, gathering a bowl and shaking a handful of their stored ash into it. With her nails, she tears open another gland and starts squeezing the fluid out into the bowl. As the juice soaks into the ashes, she sits back, looking over her handiwork as she tries to think about how she’s going to explain this whole situation to Wickerbottom. Willow can imagine the conversation.

“Hey, remember how I was supposed to make sure the kids stayed safe? Well, while you were gone, another one showed up and got hurt. Crazy, right?”

Somehow, she doesn’t see any explanation that would end in her favor. Either way, she doesn’t get much time before that train of thought falls away, because as she starts applying the salve to the wound, Walter whimpers. He straight up fucking whimpers and the sound might as well have broken Willow’s heart then and there.

In a rare show of bravery, Woby starts growling, clearly on the basis of some protective instinct. She nips at Willow’s arm, whose reflexes just barely let her pull away fast enough to avoid getting bitten. “Hey!”

Walter clumsily reaches for the dog, grabbing her around the middle and holding her close to his chest. “Be nice,” he mumbles, pressing his face into Woby’s thick fur. “Willow’s helping me.”

Willow continues as the dog calms down, holding steady even when Walter flinches at the spread of the salve. “I know it stings,” she says sympathetically. “Bear with me for just a few more seconds.”

She scrapes the bowl out, and when the bite is completely slathered with salve, she uses their silk bandages to wrap it, hiding the marks from view. There are a few red spots darkening the wrap from where he’s bled through, but she ties the knot off and sits back on her heels. “There,” she says. “You’re done.”

After a glance over, she notices with relief that Walter looks significantly better. The color has come back to his face, and that dazed sort of look in his eyes has all but vanished. He still looks absolutely exhausted, though.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and some of the tension leaves his body as he sinks farther into the wools.

Willow smiles softly.

She sits with him the few minutes it takes for him to fall asleep, setting away the medical kit and clearing away the used rags in the meantime. Willow sighs, readying herself to leave, but somehow being unable to.

It just feels unfair to see Walter like this, lying there, hurt and afraid and ever so young. She’d seen so much of herself in him, but, in truth, he wasn’t like her at all. He wasn’t some orphan with no prospects, barely scraping by on the streets. He had a home to get back to, a family he spoke fondly of, years of life he had yet to experience. And while the Constant may have been the best thing that could have happened to Willow, it had stolen away Walter’s entire life.

The world was truly, unimaginably cruel, she decides, to have brought this boy here.

Woby’s head perks up from where she’s curled by Walter’s side, seemingly having sensed Willow’s distress. She pads over, pressing her head against Willow’s hand, and Willow relents, petting the dog gently. She scratches behind Woby’s ears and is rewarded with a lick on the nose when she leans down. Somehow, despite the awful night they’ve all had, it’s enough to make Willow smile.

She leaves the tent eventually. Webber and Wendy say they’ll keep a night watch, and Willow feels too tired to argue. She falls into a fitful sleep by the firepit, curled around the rocks, letting the warmth bleed into her body.

#dont starve #don't starve #dont starve together #dst #ds willow #dst walter #ds walter #ds #dont starve fic #dst fic #my writing #marine blogs #comments and reblogs appreciated!#reposting to see if itll show up in the tags this time

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

i think you might be my soulmate

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,589

summary: Steve finds out a little more about Alexander Pierce.

prompt: ‘I think you might be my soulmate.’

warnings: swearing

a/n: This was written for @whirlybirbs Endgame writing challenge and the theme was nostalgia, so we’re going back to Winter Soldier and that infamous escape scene.

“Rogers.”

He stared out the window, his chin resting on his fist as he watched the clouds passing by.

“Rogers.”

It’d been a long time since he’d gotten to just sit and watch the sky. He could remember when he was young, back before the war and the weight the title of Captain America on his shoulders, sitting by the window with Bucky and picking out shapes in the clouds. It was as close as he could get to being outside when he was sick and despite how much it paled in comparison to actually getting to sit outside on the grass, his best friend had never complained.

“Rogers.”

He’s vaguely aware of someone saying his name, the way you’d be aware of a fly buzzing around your head. It was more of a nuisance than anything else and it wasn’t doing anything to bring him out of his daydream.

“ROGERS!”

The blond super soldier finally looked up as a hand slammed down onto the table in front of him, his blue eyes meeting the beady, bird-like ones of Alexander Pierce. The man who’d he been arguing with for over an hour now. “Pierce.”

Pierce let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples as he paced back in forth in front of Steve. “Why won’t you work with me on this?”

“I am. I’ve told you everything I know,” He said, his mind flashing back to Nicholas Fury breaking into his apartment just the night before. He’d been having a good night before it’d been interrupted by the sound of jazz music coming from his apartment. He’d even somewhat asked out the nurse that lived next door.

The nurse that turned out to be Agent Sharon Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Yet, somehow I don’t believe you,” the older man said, a piercing looking in his eyes as he rested his palms on the cool wood. “Are you really going to tell me that you don’t know why Nick came?”

“Is it so hard to believe that Nick Fury could have a friend?”

Both men looked up just in time to see an absolutely stunning woman walking in the doors. Your hair and makeup was done perfectly, not a single hair was out of place. Your pencil skirt and heels made Steve hesitate on identifying you as an agent. You were most likely an administrative worker, an assistant or something. He knew that if you were higher up, he’d have already met you.

His mouth felt dry as he watched you move to stand beside Pierce, holding out the file that was in your hands to him. “Rogers, this is Y/N L/N,” the man said absentmindedly as he opened up the file and began to flip through it, brows furrowing as he stared down at one page for a remarkably long time. “My best secretary.”

“How kind of you, Alexander,” you drawled, drier than the Sahara Desert and bringing a smile to the blond’s lips as Pierce remained unaware.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake across the table. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Your hand seemed to slot against his perfectly as your eyes locked onto his. “The pleasure’s all mine.” Your eyes seemed to put him under some kind of spell as he stood there shaking your hand for much longer than what was socially appropriate. “And don’t let him fool you, I’m much more than a secretary.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, and he winced as he realized how it could’ve been taken as a jab.

But your laugh said otherwise, your hand moving to cover your mouth. “They told me you were charming,” you said, before pointedly looking down at your hand, “Even if you are a little rusty.”

Steve yanked his hand away, his cheeks flushing as he realized just how long he’d been holding on your hand. He wiped at his jeans, hoping desperately that you wouldn’t think he was weird or gross because his hands were clammy and when the hell did that happen? “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Your bottom lip was drawn in between your teeth as you eyed him. “It’s sweet.”

“Rogers, are you done flirting with my secretary or can we get back to our discussion?” Pierce asked harshly, though he hadn’t looked up from his papers.

Your eye roll caused Steve’s lips to tug up into a smile, though he tried to hide it before the man could see it. Your gaze turned back to him, flicking back and forth between you two. There was a sudden urgency in your eyes, and when you spotted the mug of coffee on the table, you nodded towards it.

He hesitantly picked it up as he tried to figure out where you were going with this. One second you’d been all smiles and flirty tones and the next you were on edge, as though ready to bolt at any second.

He didn’t even have time to think before you reached forward, knocking the mug from his hand and spilling it over his stealth suit. The hiss of pain that fell from his lips caused Pierce to finally look at you two, a glare etched on his features.

“Y/N, what has gotten into you today?” He demanded, snapping the file shut.

“Captain Rogers, I’m so sorry,” you said, rushing around the table to him. You dabbed at the brownish wet spot on his suit with your sleeve, not looking up at him. “If you come with me, I can get this out in a jiffy.”

Steve was getting more and more suspicious, but the look in your eyes made him nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”

“What about our discussion?” The other man asked, watching with wide eyes as you began to lead him out of the room.

“I’ll have him back in five minutes,” you reassured your boss, flashing him a bright, disarming smile before the two of you were out the doors and you were taking him down the hall.

It was easy to keep in step with you as you marched down the hall. The smile had dropped from your lips, other than when you nodded at a coworker in greeting. He was yanked into a spare room once you rounded a corner, the door shut and locked.

“Are you really trying to play seven minutes in heaven right now?” He asked, feigning confidence even though his hands were still clammy.

The small smile you granted him made it worth it though. “I didn’t even know you knew what seven minutes in heaven was.”

“I’m not that old.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Then what’s Tinder?” At his dumbfounded expression, a triumphant grin spread across your face. But then you seemed to remember the urgency with which you had dragged him out of there. “You can’t trust Pierce.”

He stared at you incredulously, a million thoughts running through his head. “What?”

You were nervously glancing at the door, as though expecting people to break in at any second. “He’s always been secretive, has been since I started working for him two years ago. But lately…” A shiver ran through your spine. “He’s been getting these secret meetings late at night, with people I don’t know and he won’t introduce me to. He tells me to go get coffee for myself at eight fifty-five every night, and when I come back, his office is locked. They’re still there when I leave for the night at ten.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“I don’t know who they are. They’re not on any record, any meeting schedule I have for that time is blank,” you said, fear rolling off of you in waves.

Steve reached out and took your hand, squeezing it in an attempt to soothe you. “How often do these meetings happen?”

“It used to be twice a month but now…” You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat. “Now it’s every night.”

“Could you hear anything they were saying?”

You bit your lip as you tried to think back to all those times you’d sat at your desk, hands shaking even though you didn’t know why. The meetings your boss had held had always given you an uneasy feeling and it had only grown as the meetings became more frequent. “Something about Project Insight… And hail.” Your hand rubbed your elbow anxiously. “I don’t know what they were hailing, but I know they said hail.”

His heart was beginning to pound in his chest as he remembered Fury’s message just the night before. His message that S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised and he couldn’t trust anyone. But something in his gut told him he could trust you. You weren’t an agent, you weren’t affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D. other than the fact that you’d been hired as Alexander Pierce’s secretary.

And something told him that part of the reason you’d been hired was because you were normal. You held no loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D. and therefore, most likely wouldn’t report any strange meetings.

Oh, how wrong your boss had been.

A sense of admiration and respect bloomed in his chest as he looked down at you. You had no reason to tell him any of this, other than the fact that you had a good heart and suspected your boss, one of the most powerful men in the world, to be up to very not good things. It took a certain type of bravery that not many had.

“Why are you telling me this?”

You swallowed, but you stared up at him resolutely. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but if it’s something that could hurt others, I have a duty to try my best to prevent it.”

And fuck, that was kind of hot. “Okay,” he said slowly, trying his best to not let his worry show. If he did, it would only make you panic more and he couldn’t have that. “I need you to do exactly what I say, okay?”

You nodded, relief flooding your face as you realized he was going to help you. “Okay.”

“After we go back to the conference room, I want you to go back to your desk as normal. Don’t let anyone think anything is wrong, alright?” Steve’s hands moved to rub your shoulders comfortingly. “If you seem on edge, the people working with Pierce are going to notice and that’ll tip them off.” When he saw the way your hands were trembling, he added, “I’m going to make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

His words seemed to soothe you as you took in a deep breath, nodding your head once. With one final look at him, you opened the door and led him back towards the office. He could see Pierce through the glass doors, his arms crossed over his chest as glared out the window. Your desk was right off to the side of the doors and you shot him one last worried look before taking your seat.

“Everything will be okay,” he said, even though it was a promise he didn’t know he could keep. All Steve Rogers knew in that moment was that he needed to protect you. You, this beautiful, wonderful woman who risked a lot for the good of others.

If he wasn’t currently about to make a run for it, he’d even consider asking you on a date.

When he stepped back into the office, Alexander Pierce’s beady eyes fixed on him immediately, though he quickly looked down at the coffee stain still on his suit. “I thought Y/N was helping you with that,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Her Tide stick ran out,” Steve said quickly, grateful that he’d seen Pepper with the little contraption enough times to know what it did. “Really, it’s no problem.”

He didn’t seemed pleased despite his explanation, taking off his glasses and peering at them before putting them back on. “So, about our discussion—”

“I told you, I don’t know anything about Nick Fury or why he was in my apartment,” the blond interrupted, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. “If you don’t mind,” he said, motioning towards the door. “I have plans.”

“You have a date or something, Rogers?”

“Something.”

Pierce laughed, the sound harsh and cold. “Steve Rogers on a date. I’d say it’s about time, but I doubt there’s a lot of people in your age range looking to date, am I right?” He smirked as he took in the man’s appearance. “But you might want to leave the shield at home.”

Steve hoped his grimace came out as more of a smile, and he nodded. “Yeah, right.” He reached out and shook the man’s hand. “I’ll sure I’ll see you soon, Pierce.”

“I’m sure you will, Rogers,” the older man said, his grip a little tighter than what could be considered necessary, though he didn’t notice since he had super soldier strength.

The blond exited the office, nodding at you in acknowledgement. It seemed to be enough as he watched your shoulders relax just a bit. But as he headed towards the elevator, he suddenly became aware of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team filing in with him, lead by Brock Rumlow.

“Before we start, does anyone want to get out?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he got himself into the situations. Bucky always used to say he went looking for trouble, but he’d actually been trying to stay out of it lately and somehow he still ended up in a mess. He didn’t start his day planning on taking out the entire S.T.R.I.K.E. team and then jumping out the window but sometimes things happen.

He had just crashed through the roof of one of the buildings of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters when he heard your voice.

“STEVE!”

His head turned, a rush running through him as he saw you running from the elevator. You still had on your heels and your pencil skirt, yet didn’t seem to care as you ran towards him. “Y/N, what are you doing?!” He asked as he ran to you.

You pressed a set of keys into his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Your bike.” Your cheeks were flushed, your hair in slight disarray as you stood in front of him, and fuck, you looked so beautiful. “Go.” When he didn’t move, you pushed at him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever stupor he was in. “GO!”

“This might be a bad time and might sound weird,” he said quickly as he stared down at you with radiant blue eyes. He was completely captivated by you. Your beauty, your bravery, your desire to do good even if it cost you everything. All of it. “But I think you might be my soulmate.”

“If you get out of here alive, I’ll let you take me on a date,” you said, before pushing at him again. But there was a little bit of mirth in your eyes as your hands pressed against his chest, fully aware that if he didn’t want to move he wouldn’t. Trying to move him was like trying to move a mountain.

A smile spread across his face as he nodded, running towards the exit. But as he neared the exit he turned so he was running backwards. You were still standing in the same place, seemingly not caring that a horde of S.H.I.E.L.D.—or HYDRA, he wasn’t sure if there was any difference now—agents were running towards you, guns up and ready to fire. “I’M HOLDING YOU TO THAT!”

“I’m counting on it!”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x you #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #birbswc2019

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musicallisto · 4 years

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Hello! Can i please get a MCU/HP ship? I’m a slytherin bi girl, red curly hair, really dark eyes and freckles. I got 3 tattoos and some piercings. I’m a bookworm but i also love sports, and I’m studying MechEng. I like to pull pranks and tell jokes and basically i’m always laughing. I never show my insecurities and I don’t like to ask for help. I hate injustice and often stand up to people. I’m also a bit reckless. For the song I’m gonna choose “Rebel rebel” by David Bowie. Thanks!

I Ship You With...

Teddy Lupin (New Generation Era)

You two would be an absolute tempest of mischief. He takes a lot after both his parents, and contrary to appearances (well, actually, not that contrary when it comes to his mother), they were not the best-mannered in the bunch during their school days. Most professors at Hogwarts would know the sound of your synchronized footsteps by heart, from hearing them so often in the hallways. They’re not scared of you, scared is not the right word... let’s just say that when you’re whispering together with a grin on both your faces, they know to be wary of every step they take in the area.

Honestly, he would be super impressed with you studying mechanical engineering after Hogwarts. As someone who’s also gearing towards that It’s a tough path to follow, but he sees the drive to have and your ambition. He’s definitely not a bad student, but it really impresses him how booksmart you are.

I bet you would introduce Teddy to sports - he would like Quidditch not necessarily as a sport, but more as a celebration, a way to unite the houses (or rip them apart senseless) and drink butterbeer, but he’s not necessarily fan of the action in itself. When you really introduce him to muggle sports, he loves most of them from the beginning. The ambient is his favorite part. Also when you hug him tight at the end of the game when your team has won. When it’s you playing, he’s the most supportive boyfriend ever, coming to the stands even if he’s a little uncomfortable to be alone surrounded by so many huge men, but he’ll forget any fear when you’re about to score and he jumps up to yell with pride.

Bullying at Hogwarts would be for the most part a long-forgotten, bitter memory, thanks to the efforts of your outspoken duo. Neither of you can stand injustice, so you shoo the bullies away until they become too frightened to continue their antics.

He uses his Metamorphmagus abilities to tease you, a lot, because he knows it makes you laugh. It’s very useful to pull pranks on you, but the funniest thing is when you’ve been telling him about how attractive you find this celebrity and he decides to take their face for the rest of the day. He just walks up to you looking exactly like whomever you’ve been thirsting after and he startles you with a laugh and the worst ever impression of their voice/accent. Bonus points if it’s a woman.

You ignore his shenanigans - he’s always like that anyway -, but he knows that you love him most anyway. More than any other celebrity. These celebrities don’t know you like he does, and they weren’t the cheerful terrors of Hogwarts professors like you were.

Shuri

You have a lot in common with Shuri - the fun-loving attitude, the mischief, the love for technology and engineering, and a certain form of bravery in taking a stand against what’s not right -. And what you don’t share with her, she loves anyway. She gets a little bit more reckless when she’s around you. It’s like trouble gets suddenly more appealing when you’re the one pushing her in...

She loves your tattoos and your piercing, she thinks they’re so cool. Tattoos and body modifications in general have a cultural significance in Wakanda, so she’s not used to seeing someone just get a tattoo for the hell of it, and she totally digs it. You even suggest that she get one herself, but she’s a little scared of the needle, even if you tell her that you’ll be there throughout all of it and she can squeeze your hand when the pain gets tough.

Your jokes always crack her up. It’s one of the main reasons she loves you so much, actually. How you’re always able to make her laugh, whatever the situation is. When the mood is little more dire, though, and she doesn’t necessarily want to hear some corny joke or story, you just hold her close to you and kiss the top of her head, her forehead, her cheeks, and let her breathe steady against your body. You’re a source of comfort for each other.

Neither of you really like to let go of the “happy-go-lucky” facade and show your iinsecurities or negative emotions, but when you’re together it doesn’t really matter. Your pride, or fear of rejection and vulnerability, just vanish because you feel so at ease in each other’s presence that there’s no way Shuri would be anything but patient, supportive, and loving.

She teaches you how to ask for help when you’re really stuck and can’t figure out a way to get out of a bad situation. You won’t change in an instant (she knows that, and wouldn’t ask you to anyway, she likes your stubborness), but she tries to make you understand that asking for help is never a sign of weakness or dependency. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Even if you still get caught up in all your problems, convinced that you’ll figure them out eventually without anyone’s help, you start to consider the idea of asking for assistance in a better light.

Road trips with Shuri are the best. She knows a lot of Western music, modern and not, but she also introduces you to the best Wakandan tunes. You drive around whatever country you find yourselves in, yelling the lyrics at the top of your lungs, making them up when you don’t know them, wiggling in your chair during the guitar solos. By the end of the first road trip, Shuri is an expert in everything David Bowie. But there’s many roads to be covered still, and many songs she doesn’t know yet: let’s not waste time, and buckle up already.

#ships #ship request #matchup #harry potter #teddy lupin #marvel #mcu #shuri #mywriting

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justallamaimaginingthings · 5 years

Text

Goodbye [Jorah Mormont x Reader]

Request: "Because the finale made me angsty could u do a jon snow or Jorah Mormont x reader that takes place during ep. 3 and the reader is killed and then turned into a wight and they are forced to fight her? Maybe they don’t know she is dead until they see her turned?" by anonymous

"22 with jorah? My heart is broken" by anonymous

A/n: Stress is making me an absolute bitch, so I thought you should all suffer with me. Please enjoy the angst. Plus, I feel like I've been only writing for Jorah these days and even though he's one of my faves, the next ones will be about Jon (will probably also write this one about him too), Oberyn, Jaqen and more.

Prompt: 22: "This isn't goodbye"

Words: 2000ish || GoT Masterlist

His reason

That’s what you were for Jorah, the reason why he stayed strong through everything, the reason why he kept trying even in the darkest of times, the reason why he carried on. If it weren’t for you he would have given up long ago but you were what kept him standing, his anchor and his light in the darkness. He couldn’t imagine a life without you by his side and that’s why he insisted so much on the fact that you shouldn’t fight in the Battle of Winterfell.

“I can take care of myself” you argued stubbornly and even though Jorah knew that to be a fact, it wasn’t enough to ease his worry. Having seen you risk your life multiple times since the two of you met, Jorah knew that sometimes your bravery overcame logic, getting into dangerous situations without hesitation in order to do what was right. And even though he admired your sense your courage and determination, your recklessness had pushed him to become more protective towards you.

“Y/n, this is an enemy unlike any other we’ve ever faced before. This is death” he pleaded and you had never seen such a desperate look on his face. It was a battle you were probably going to lose and you both knew it, but you would certainly fight it. The Starks had never been the ones to give up, after all, and neither were you.

“Jorah there is no way in seven hells I’ll stay in a crypt while you and every other person I know and love fight against the dead. I need to do this” you insisted. Truth was you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him and you hadn’t been there. A long time ago you had made a promise and you were determined to keep it. Jorah had known you would not give up easily, just like you had never done so in the past. He couldn't help hoping this time would be different though.

And it was at this moment the horns of Winterfell rang.

“Please” he begged framing your face with both his hands.

“Fear not, my love for this isn’t goodbye, I promise” you replied pulling him into a fervent kiss. Jorah's fear and worry was evident as his grip on your waist was tighter than ever, holding you close to his chest as he tried to put all his feeling into the kiss.

If there was one thing you took pride in that was being a person of your word. Not a single one of the promises you had ever given were broken, even the smallest and more insignificant ones. And out of all, this one turned out to be the one you wouldn’t be able to keep. The moment you saw the wights surrounding Daenerys, you knew there was no possible way you’d come out of this alive.

“I’m sorry” you whispered shooting a sorrowful look towards the castle of Winterfell, knowing Jorah was somewhere in there fighting for his life. Quickly turning your eyes away, the grip on your sword tightened to the point where your knuckles turned white as you ran towards your Queen. Cutting and slicing through the undead you made your way towards her just in time to cut off the hand that was extending towards her hair.

“Y/n?” She asked in a trembling voice.

“Stay behind me. We just have to make it to the walls” you yelled in order to be heard through the cries of the battle. She nodded before surprising the both of you by picking up a fallen sword. Looking at her, you gave the most reassuring smile you could muster. By that time a bunch of wights had gathered around you and it seemed like each one you killed was replaced by two more. Soon you were so tired you could barely hold your sword in your hands, but you refused to give up even after having taken multiple hits.

By the time Drogon flew above you, grabbing Daenerys in his wing and helping her ride him, you were a bleeding wreck. Your hands were shaking in exhaustion and the slightest action caused an immense wave of pain course through your body. Drogon turned around in the sky, heading back to your aid and for a second you believed that maybe there was a way out. That was your mistake, hope. A wight took advantage of your distraction and kicked you to the ground. Your sword fell out of your hand and by the time you grabbed it, four of the undead creatures had gathered around you.

The last thing you remember was Danny's heart wrenching outcry as a cold piece of metal pierced through your chest.

Since the moment Jorah had lost sight of you, a dreadful feeling of fear had taken its place in the back of his mind only getting stronger as time went by and upon hearing Drogon's sorrowful shriek he realized something had actually happened. The newfound sense of horror sent another wave of adrenaline through his veins as he sliced his way through wights. However, there seemed to be a never ending number of creatures rushing into the castle to replace the ones they managed to kill.

Jorah's face was covered in cuts and bruises and every muscle in his body ached in exhaustion as he fought off as many of the creatures as possible with only one thought burning through his mind. He needed to know you were fine because of you didn't make it nothing of this would matter. Looking around he had the chance to observe the absolute hell that was taking place around him. There was almost no hint of light, forcing the soldiers to fight in near darkness and the sound of metal clashing against metal was deafening, mixing with the pained cries of the injured to create an atrocious symphony.

The situation was already turning out to be increasingly tough for the living when the first bodies began rising. Everywhere he looked there was a hauntingly pale pair of emotionless eyes staring back at him as every one of the fallen was resurrected. The scene seemed to be taken out of a nightmare as Jorah was forced to turn against his own friends and allies, killing people he had seen and talked to less than hours ago. Despite knowing those he once knew were long gone, each time his sword hurt one of them something deep inside him shattered.

But fate's cruelest turn was yet to be revealed.

The sight Jorah was faced with when he turned around was one that actually broke him. Your once beautiful and warm eyes had turned pale blue, completely void of emotion as you turned to look at him without showing any signs of recognizing who he was. Jorah couldn't bring himself to step back as your familiar figure headed towards him. Stepping out of the shadows, a ray of light shone on your body allowing Jorah to see the massive blood stain covering your whole chest.

"No…" he whispered trying to tear his eyes off you. No, this wasn't you, his Y/n was long gone and standing in front of him was a sadistic joke fate was playing on him. An inhuman growl passed through your lips causing Jorah's blood to turn to ice. The same soft and sweet pair of lips he would never get enough of.

As your form moved closer, Jorah was barely enough to step back so that he could avoid your sword swinging at him. Taking another step back, his back hit the wall as his heart sank in his chest. There was only one way out of this but the man couldn't even bear the thought of what he had to do. Jorah's heart clenched in agony as he observed you for what he knew to be the last time. You were the same person he had loved and at the same time something completely different. The stance of your body was cold and unnatural and it no longer radiated the kindness and passion it used to. That was only a puppet wearing your features.

Your sword landed inches away from his face, managing to deliver a small cut on his cheek but he was too numb to notice the drops of blood making their way down his face resembling bloody tears. Managing to pick up the sword once more another hit was about to be blown when Jorah's sword plunged right into your once beating heart causing your body to drop down.

"Forgive me, my love" Jorah's quivering voice whispered as he caught your already cold body before it hit the ground, falling into his knees in the process "Forgive me" he repeated before breaking down in tears as strangled sobs escaped him. At that moment Jorah could feel his heart collapsing into his chest as it was replaced by an empty cold feeling. Leaning his head on your shoulder he allowed himself to break down as he hugged you close.

How he hoped to feel your arms wrap around him and hear your sweet voice reassuring him it was all going to be fine, to be able to kiss your lips and see the smile that made him forget about the world. Playing back your last conversation, your words replayed in his mind. This isn't goodbye, you had promised and what a bittersweet irony that was. In some way this was his fault. If he had convinced you to stay back, if he had kept you next to him during the battle, if…

But it was too late. You were gone and there was nothing he could do to get you back. Jorah's grief was so overwhelming he didn't notice when the dead started collapsing around him. Either way, it didn't matter anymore. Even if he lived, Jorah knew his heart died that night and nothing would ever be the same.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until the tears stopped and he just sank down, unable to weep anymore. Refusing to let go of you, he stayed there brushing away the strands of hair the wind blew into your face. He didn't acknowledge the cold that creeped into his armor for the cold he felt in his soul was much more dangerous, already eating away at him.

It was almost dawn when Grey Worm found him standing next to your body with a devastated look on his eyes as despair and anguish were written all over his face. Jorah resisted any attempts to be taken away from you, not ready for it to be the last time he laid eyes on you. It took three Unsullied to finally carry him away.

After that everything seemed unreal. Daenerys and many others offered their regrets but it was like words had lost their meaning. Jorah felt nothing but a gaping void increasingly growing in his chest. The next day went by without him realizing it when he was given a torch and led right outside the walls of Winterfell.

Seeing your body lay on top of the wooden pile a sickly sense of heartache dominated his heart and soul once more. By the time he reached next to your body, tears were blurring his vision as he took a deep breath in a failed attempt to regain his composure. It was the last time he'd ever see you and there were millions of things he wanted to say forming a knot on his throat yet he stayed silent. Leaning down he left a soft kiss on your forehead, wincing at how cold your skin felt.

"Do you really believe it's possible?" you asked looking up at Jorah trying to hide the melancholy from your voice. Daenerys has been nothing but a fair and just ruler for as long as you had known her, but that was in Essos. Westeros was a completely different story, much more complex and cruel.

"What are you talking about my love?" Jorah's smooth voice made a shiver run down your spine despite the warmth both the warm covers and his body provided.

"A better world" you explained, snuggling even closer to his chest and leaning your head on his shoulder listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. The weight of the question caused the relaxed atmosphere to switch slightly and you almost regretted speaking. Moments of calm and quiet were extremely rare between the two of you.

"We've made it this far, haven't we?" he replied appearing certain of his words, but the tightening of his grip around your waist let you know he wasn't as confident as he aspired to appear.

"We have…" you agreed "And we should keep trying, you know. For a better world"

A better world, that was what Jorah had fought for, but now that the end was almost there, the one person he wanted to share it with was gone and Jorah found himself completely lost once again. It was supposed to be your world, the one the two of you would share after it was all over.

No, he had to be strong. The world you had always dreamt was still in danger and there was no time for grief. You may be gone, Jorah realized, but your dream carried on. That world you had fought and died for was awaiting, calling for him.

"For a better world…" he whispered shoving back his tears. The war was not over and Jorah knew he needed to give his everything into making the world that would surface after all the bloodshed and destruction be one of kindness and compassion. At that moment, Jorah made a vow to do whatever it took to help build this world you so much desired.

Sorrow and regret would have to wait because this was a time of hope.

And Jorah was determined to fight for it even if it killed him.

For a better world

For you

#jorah mormont imagine #jorah mormont x reader #jorah mormont #jorah x reader #jorah imagine #jorah angst #angst #I FEEL BAD FOR THIS #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #got imagine #got x reader #got #got season 8 #got s8

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spotlightjapan · 5 years

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Hatsukoi - Hikaru Utada

I want to preface this review with the admission that I am a big Hikaru Utada fan, so there is most definitely a chance that I might just be biased. I also know that I am a year late into this party but I thought that for my first music review on this blog, I might do this album that is one of my more recent favorites. So, let’s jump right into it!

Play A Love Song - The album starts with a sincere effort to move forward. The song itself is very colorful, with bright piano chords, electronic drum beats and a synth lead. The end of the song feels triumphant with the layering of choir-like backing vocals. The last line of the chorus「悲しい話はもうたくさん／好きだって聞かせてくれよ／Can we play a love song？」(We've already had so many sad conversations. Just tell me you love me. Can we play a love song?) represents the idea of thesis of the album: no matter how painful and dark, I will simply love what I have now.

あなた (You) - This song has a jazzy vibe that is so inviting. It is cozy, like sitting by the fireplace. One again, this song evokes the feeling of respite. The song talks about the “you” figure as her “home.” It’s an honest confession to the person she loves. She wants the “you” figure to understand that regardless of the many challenges and heartache they might face, it is with this person alone that she would endure it all. The brass instrument highlights in this song is such a treat as well.

初恋 (First Love) - The first thing that stands out about this song for me is the stirring strings that accompany the piano. The simple arrangement carries you through. The lyrics are straightforward, as they should be, and follow the general theme of the album so far. There is a very soft climax during the final chorus and outro of the the song. Utada is so good at creating that feeling at the end of her songs that just makes you want more.

誓い (Vow) - This song is perhaps one of the most realistic wedding songs I’ve ever heard. It is honest and powerful in its declaration of love and commitment. This song seems to be communicating that while so many things in life are uncertain, love will sustain. Track 4 is basically a darker version of the previous song in terms of arrangement. The strings help create this feeling of suspense in the verses, like there is danger lurking, which fits the lyrics of the verse. The bridge is so powerful, I remember having goosebumps when I first listened to it. It is total surrender to the feeling of love with full acknowledgement of all that comes with it.

Forevermore - We seem to be plunging down a darker route in terms of color and tone. The music comes off as brooding for most of the song, but it has its brief moments of breaking through in the chorus. The music itself takes you on a journey of confronting the dark and succeeding, and going through that cycle again. The prominent ride cymbals create staccato-like tension with the electronic piano. I’m going to be repeating myself throughout this review, but once again, the honesty is piercing in this track.

Too Proud ft. Jevon - This song allows us a bit of a break from the violins and the piano, and reminds us of Utada’s R&B’s roots. While this track is also presented simply, the lyrics really pack a punch. Allowing this moment to give in to her flaws, the persona admits that she is too proud. She points out the deficiencies of her relationship and there is a feeling of dread that looms over our heads throughout the song. I must say that I absolutely love this song. I actually don’t listen to a lot of hip-hop/rap so I don’t really know how to qualify rap verses and what not, but Jevon’s verse in this song is so good. This song is infectious ear worm, yet not in the typical catchy pop that plays on the radio. The lead riff that is like a fork tapping on a glass is so interesting as well.

Good Night - Oh god. Where do I begin? The intro does not give any hint to what kind of song this track truly is. The pleasant feeling of reminiscing and longing in the verses turns into a feeling of pain in the chorus. The simple palm-muted guitar with the reverb cranked up in the chorus with Utada’s ‘good night’s just take me to a different dimension. Everything swells in the verses and comes to a pause once the chorus hits, then the strings and the drums tears through the silence again. After that, we’re treated to a wistful send off in the outro. How she’s able to switch directions in such an organic yet surprising way, I really don’t know. If you look at the lyrics of this song, the amount of words don’t even amount to half of the number of words of the other songs in this album. But this song is able to communicate so much with so little, and that is what makes it a brilliant song. The song feels full, despite the thin lyrics. My absolute favorite in this album.

パクチーの唄 (The Coriander Song) - Yup, that is actually the song’s title. Do not skip it though. Don’t judge a song by its title! This song is much like the others in terms of arrangement. It’s very simple. It’s almost like a child’s song (and maybe it is!) at the beginning. But if you listen to the lyrics, there’s something comforting about it. It’s like a mother’s soothing song to a crying child. It’s unique in its on way, and not just because of its title or chorus. It’s has this nostalgic quality that makes you long for your childhood.

残り香 (Lingering Scent) - We are at that phase of the album where everything has slowed down. A pipe organ opens the curtain to the persona defeated and alone. She admits that things have fallen apart. It’s like she’s in shock, and can’t really come up with words to express what she’s feeling. The reality that the “you” figure in the song is gone is the only thing that the persona can think of at the moment. The brief silence during the end carries so much pain as Utada repeats 「暖かいあなたの肩を探す、肩を探す」(I look for your warm shoulder, I look for your warm shoulder). The little bit of white noise-like sounds that reverberates throughout the song paints a picture of a lonely woman in her flat, as a busy city goes about its day outside. The organ throughout this song represents the feeling of loss that envelops the persona. It has this inescapable quality to it that makes this song even more depressing.

大空で抱きしめて (Embrace Me Under the Big Sky) - This song carries the same feeling of loss in the previous track though in a less straightforward way. The carefree vibe is aided by the playful guitar riff. The song has a brighter color to it overall, but the general feeling is that of longing. That feeling of longing gestures to what is missing or gone. It makes you feel like you’re looking out the window of a train on a perfectly sunny day. Now that things have fallen apart, what now? That’s the vibe that this song subtly gestures to.

夕凪 (Evening Calm) - This song confronts heavy feelings and realities of life and loss. The piano, the slow kicking of the bass drum, the layer of ‘ah’s humming, the simple string tying the arrangement together--all of these elements support the song’s heartbreaking message. Despite the song being that of loss, it is not sad or depressed. In fact there is this feeling of bravery. Through Utada’s singing, there is this quiet acceptance. Loss is serious and heavy and painful, yet the persona accepts it without resistance. The haunting vocalizations at the end adds so much character to the song.

嫉妬されるべき人生 (A Life Worth Envying) - This song is not as colorful as the others. In fact you might get the impression that it is a sad song due to the dark vibe that is immediately apparent in the intro. But that’s not actually the case. The song is about professing undying love the the “you” figure. It is about proudly declaring that the persona’s life is worth being proud of despite all that has happened to her, and that’s because in this life, she met and married this “you” figure. The line 「長いと思ってた人生急に短い」(A life I though would be long is all of a sudden short) reveals that now that she is with her beloved, the life that she thought would drag on, is now all of a sudden not enough time to spend with this “you” figure. The lyrics are just as honest as the first song of the album but the transformation of the persona is evident. I think it’s the undercurrent of death that makes this song dark. There’s also the life monitor-like sounds that periodically erupts throughout the song. The lyrics acknowledge that we will all die someday, and that's why it the music and delivery of the song is so incredibly intense.

Overall, this album is such a wonderful journey to embark on. Utada’s lyrics contain very specific scenes and details, but it never alienates its listener. She is able to create universal feelings through her words and music no matter how simple the lyrics or arrangement may be. The album is cohesive, but there is an evident transformation from the first half to the second half. There is a bit of a lull in the middle, but ultimately, it’s an album that deserves to be listened to fully from start to finish. This album is magic.

9.5/10

#Japanese music #Hikaru utada #utada hikaru #jpop

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maandags · 6 years

Text

Blood trail (Keith x reader)

hey so this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i finished it today. it’s 10K of pure angst and I’m sorry

~Water

Word count: 10.2 K

Genre: angst

Notes: injuries TW - blood TW - masterlist - look the title for this. sucks but if y’all have any suggestions i’ll gladly take them because i will change it probably

-----

You gasped as you broke the water’s surface, violent coughs racking your body. The switch from using your gills to using your nose and mouth to breathe was never comfortable, and even less when it was so abrupt. You thrashed and hissed, scared and confused; only a couple of minutes ago you had been collecting seaweed and pieces of dead coral littering the ocean floor. Next thing you knew, a big black… thing descended onto you and started pulling you up.

You kept thrashing, flailing your arms around, trying to slice the ropes of the net with your fingernails and teeth. Panic rose up like bile in your throat and high-pitched hisses made their way past your teeth. You squirmed but only managed to tangle your tail further in your trap, and a yelp of pain rang out of your mouth when you cut your tailfin on a sharp piece of glass that got tangled in the net along with you.

But then your tail didn’t touch the water anymore and you hung in the air, arms pressed against your body and ropes tangling around your throat, arms, torso.

“Well, well, well, what have we here,” an almost mocking voice rang out across the water. You quit your struggling, breathing heavily as you stared at the owner of the voice.

Pirate, was the first word you thought. Pirate, pirate, pirate. Your heartbeat picked up, fear and survival instincts coursing through your veins and screaming at you to flee! Get away!

The middle-aged man wore a long leather overcoat on top of a white shirt, loose brown trousers and black leather boots. Creases and wrinkles hung low over his bead-like eyes, showing nothing bar a flash of a sharp gaze, hardened by years of fighting and struggling to survive the dangers of open sea. A sword hung at his side and you noticed multiple gun holsters crossing his chest and hips. Behind him stood a crew of maybe twenty men and a couple of women, shifting on their feet and fingers anxiously twitching next to their sword hilts. You swept your glare over each of them. When they met your gaze, they looked down in fear. Then their captain shook his head. Gold flashed in his ears.

The pirate leant forward and grinned when you tried to scuttle back as far as possible. “Mermaid,” he said, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he caught one. You mentally scolded yourself for letting yourself get captured this easily. For letting yourself get captured at all. You thought of what Shiro would do if he realized that you had been captured. Your brother would not think twice about sinking the ship, and you knew that the rest of your shoal would follow him without any hesitation. The thought brought you some comfort.

“Let me go.” You spat the words, trying to fill your voice with as much venom as you possibly could. A few of the crewmembers actually recoiled and flinched in fear. You felt some sort of contempt in your belly as you registered the pure terror on some of the men’s faces.

“Yeah, no. Not gonna happen,” the captain said. He cocked his head in amusement at your furious growl.

“You are walking a fine line between bravery and absolute stupidity,” you hissed. The pirate threw his head back and laughed, a spooky sound cutting through the complete silence cloaking them.

“Is that so?” he mocked, a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What exactly are you going to do?”

“Me? Not much,” you admitted, subtly untangling your hip pouch from the net. You slipped your hand inside, fingers brushing over the vial of blood you always kept in there. “My brother, on the other hand, will have no trouble sinking your ship and killing the lot of you.” You trickled some blood along your tail and breathed a barely noticeable sigh of relief when you heard the drops hit the water.

The blood was a system your shoal used ever since it had been discovered, years and years ago. The scent would alert mermaids and animals alike that something wasn’t right and they would come to check it out. A simple trick, but very effective. You did the math in your head: it would take Shiro around two hours, maybe a little longer, to find you. You just had to make sure to stay on the sea. If you somehow had to go on land, things would get a lot more complicated.

“Really?” The captain’s voice was soft, but somehow a lot more threatening than it had been before. He lifted a finger to his chin, tapping it as if considering your words, then he grinned again. “I’ll take my chances. Haul the fish in, lads,” he added over his shoulder before turning his back to you and walking away.

Frozen in shock, you could only stare at his back for a few seconds. Then five crewmembers started pulling at the rope connected to your net and snapped you out of your trance. You started thrashing like crazy again, but the men only pulled harder and not three seconds later you landed on the deck of the ship with a dull bonk. You hissed and bared your teeth at every hand that came even relatively close to you and they flinched away, but you knew in the back of your head that fighting back was in vain.

But by the Lions, if you were going down, you would take as many of them with you as you possibly could.

As hands started to fiddle with the net you shifted, grabbing the small knife you kept in your pouch. You slashed at the fingers coming just a little too close, the sharp bone blade coming into contact with flesh more than once and pulling a string of curses from their mouths. A particularly muscled and rough-looking man hissed when your knife cut a deep gash in his palm.

“You filthy fish!”

He kicked your stomach. Hard. With a grunt, you doubled over and you saw white spots clouding your vision. Was it anger, or pain? Both, possibly.

“Sendak! Cut it out,” a different voice called out. You craned your neck to look at the new arrival: it was a thin young man, a little shorter than most of the crew, but walking towards you at a pace that screamed authority. He pushed past the big man he’d called Sendak without sparing him more than a glance, crouching next to you and resting his forearms on his knees.

The thing was, you wanted to hate him the moment you saw him. It would have been a lot easier to hate him if he had looked cruel, or ugly, or like a bad person. But he didn’t. Violet eyes pierced yours and his eyebrows were furrowed in genuine concern. The ocean breeze blew black tufts of hair in his face, hiding the sharp yet gentle features of his face. And again, you cursed his good looks; it made it a lot more difficult to hate him. After all, he was one of the men that captured you.

“My name is Keith Kogane,” he said.

“Go to hell,” you spat in answer.

“First Mate,” Sendak interrupted with a cough. “We are to take the fish to its cabin.”

Keith Kogane, the First Mate, sighed. “Yes. Alive, and unharmed.” He stood up and turned to the bigger man; even though Sendak was at least a foot taller than him, Keith stood his ground with an air of nonchalance, close to boredom, but keeping his aura of authority and strength. “Unharmed. Is that understood?”

The two men had a silent stare-down, Sendak wearing a scowl and with balled fists, Keith’s features stony. Then Sendak lowered his gaze and grunted out a yes, Kogane. Keith smiled a cold smile and walked away, shooting you one more glance over his shoulder. Your eyes were glued to his retreating form, the movement of his long overcoat billowing in the wind mesmerising. The illusion was broken when a hard object came down onto your wrist and you cried out in pain. You looked up, tears of pain pooling in your eyes, right into Sendak’s face.

“Let go of the knife, fish,” he said calmly, slowly applying more pressure onto your wrist with his foot. A whimper of pain rolled past your lips. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth against the pain, tightening your grip on the hilt of your dagger in defiance. That was a mistake, as Sendak’s foot pressed down even more harshly and this time you couldn’t bite back a scream.

“Let it go!” he barked.

And you let it go.

“That’s a good fish,” Sendak crooned, pressing down hard one more time before letting go of your wrist. You immediately pulled your arm to your chest, inspecting the bruises that were already starting to form. So much for unharmed, you thought wryly. When you looked up again, you saw that Sendak had picked up your dagger, studying it closely, examining the patterns carefully carved into the hilt.

“What’s this even made of?” he wondered aloud.

You should have kept your mouth shut. You know you should have, but anger clouded your vision and you suddenly lost all verbal filter.

“Your father’s bones,” you grit out. With those words, you successfully turned everyone’s attention to you. Sendak’s knuckles turned white around your blade. His huge hand almost covered the entire dagger. It suddenly looked a lot less like an actual weapon, and a lot more like an insignificant toothpick. You silently cursed your inability to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Sendak took a deep breath before crouching back down again and grabbing a piece of the net, yanking it up to his face. Your nose was inches from his. You could see every scar on the man’s cruel face, every ugly wound etched into his skin. His eyes bore into yours, nothing but pure hate radiating from them. His other hand, the one holding your knife, crept up and the cold blade came brushing along your collarbones.

“If you don’t shut your whore mouth, fish, you will be skewered on your own blade,” he growled. You smiled coldly, feeling the tip of your knife pierce your flesh. It stung a little.

“Those are bold words you speak. You could have killed me at any time; I am as helpless here as you are beneath the waves of the sea. Yet you threaten me, without fulfilling your promises.” You don’t break eye contact with him, hissing each word in a low, cool voice. “Coward.”

Sendak’s grip on the net tightened and he curled his upper lip. Then he let go, pushing you on the ground once more for good measure. “Take the fish to its tank,” he told three men standing behind him. And then he turned his back to you.

----

You ran your fingers through the water the pirates provided you with. It was ocean water, that much was true, but it had definitely been in the shallow tank you were sitting in for far too long. Most of the oxygen had evaporated, making it impossible for you to use your gills properly. You had resigned to sitting upright on the bottom of the tank, where the water came to your collarbones. It wasn’t deep enough to swim in, but it was just deep enough for you to be able to move around somewhat freely.

You had been sitting here for what felt like ages and your back was starting to hurt. You hadn’t screamed. You knew there would be no point, that you would most likely get gagged, and you wanted to keep your voice. You were going to need it.

You wondered whether Shiro had picked up on your blood trail yet. Soon after you were brought here, the ship had started moving and you had a feeling that it was headed straight for land. You prayed to every celestial being that Shiro would find you before it was too late.

And so you sat in old water, helplessly moving along with the rocking of the ship. You had never felt this hopeless before, never felt this powerless and weak. You wrapped your arms around your torso and sat back against the side of the tank, closing your eyes. You tried to picture yourself back into the reassuring setting of your home town, the soothing sway of seaweed in the current of the water, your collection of polished sea-glass glittering in the few rays of sunlight they managed to catch. It didn’t help. Only made you sadder.

The creaking of wooden planks, announcing someone’s entrance to your bland and small room, had you cringing away. Your mind blanked, and you forgot for a second that the water you were sitting in was absolutely filthy and that breathing it in would most likely make you incredibly ill. The creaking got louder and louder, and so did the screaming of your instincts to hide! Just hide!

Your eyes clouded with panic. Before you could reconsider you had slid your head underwater.

You were careful not to breathe in any of the murky water, neither through your gills nor your nose or mouth. Instead you held your breath, slowing down your heartbeat as much as you could. You had never been more grateful for Shiro’s lessons on how to hold your breath for longer periods of time. You recalled your reluctance to actually listen to what he had to say, grudgingly giving in after Shiro had followed you around the ocean floor, yelling that you would be grateful one day.

You were. You kept your eyes wide open, trying to capture even the smallest flickering in the beams of light filtering through the murkiness of the water, the tiniest indicator of movement outside of your tank. Your actual eyes were very sensitive to light; they were merely covered by a protective layer of skin, like an alligator’s were. They covered your eyes whenever the concentration of light in your immediate surroundings was too high. Underwater, the first layer retracted, giving you back some of the knife-sharp eyesight you were used to.

The form slowly approaching your tank was not Sendak. That much you were sure of. The black silhouette was too small, too thin to be him. You wondered what anyone but Sendak would want with you: the quartermaster had made it crystal clear that all he wanted from you was your head on a stick, and preferably the honour of doing so himself. So if it wasn’t him, then who was it?

The figure said something, though you couldn’t make out any words. A glurble. You pushed yourself further into your corner, cursing the limited sight the murky water gave you. The figure tapped on the side of your tank and you flinched, biting back a screech. The sound of his knuckles rapping on the glass resonated in your ears and you clawed at the sides of your head, wanting to disappear into the void more than ever.

Your lungs started to ache slightly from lack of oxygen. You’d have to come up for breath soon. Your heart started beating faster, your survival instincts coming in stronger than ever. The tapping continued. The noise echoed loudly inside your skull, rattling your brain. A haze of fear and anger settled over your being once more, and the urge to fight, to hurt, swelled stronger with every passing second. A sickeningly sweet taste filled your mouth and when you looked into the glass you were pressed into, your eyes seemed to glow. The sweet taste grew more insistent.

You knew what it was. Shiro had told you about it, the automatic defense response rooted deep in every mermaid’s core. You started for the surface, partly because you needed to breathe, partly because you couldn’t wait to see who was the unfortunate soul that had deemed it a good idea to disturb a furious mermaid. You held your breath as you breached the surface, carefully giving your lungs time to adjust with small breaths through the nose. The figure inhaled sharply, and when you opened your eyes the stared right into a pair of violet ones.

First Mate Keith Kogane held a salty-smelling bucket, raised to his face as if to protect himself. You sniffed the air, making out seaweed and sardine, a couple of mackerels. He’d brought you food. How sweet of him.

Keith cleared his throat, visibly unnerved by your silent staring at him. You figured your glowing eyes didn’t do anything to help him calm down. Good, you thought.

“I–uh–I brought you-some fish? If that’s–what you eat, you know. I just figured–since, you know–you live in the ocean and all–”

“Lived,” you corrected him finely, batting your eyelashes at him and approaching the edge of the tank slowly. “Not anymore.” A disapproving glance at the wooden cabin and the bucket Keith clutched in his hands.

“Right,” he said, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another as you casually draped your arms over the edge of the tank. Come here, come here, little pirate. You wondered if your eyes were still glowing. As if pulled to you by an imaginary force, Keith slowly took a step forward. Then another step. And another. His violet eyes were fixed on yours, a small frown knotting his dark eyebrows.

Someone could have shot a cannon right next to you. You doubted either of you would have noticed. It truly was like a bubble slowly encased you, nothing existing in the world but Keith and you. You’d never used your sirenic abilities before. They only worked on one animal, or person, at a time, you knew. You had never paid much attention to Shiro when he explained your abilities to you, the abilities all mermaids had: hypnotizing prey. Your shoal’s hunters often used it. They said it was useful for bigger prey, on which sometimes the nets and knives had no effect. You’d never used it before: you were no hunter, and you had always preferred to rely on your speed.

But now, your prey was Keith. And you were not in the open ocean, you couldn’t outswim him. So you had to turn to the darker part of yourself, the part you would prefer remain hidden. You had no choice, you told yourself as you looked into his eyes. Those beautiful, gorgeous violet eyes. There was an ache in your chest. He looked so peaceful under your spell, so inncocent. His eyes wide with wonder, your own glowing irises reflected in his. You didn’t want to kill him. So this was what a prey looked like before it was speared by a hunter. You didn’t want to kill him. Keith kneeled in front of the tank, his eyes never leaving yours. His eyelids slid closed and he leaned forward. Asleep. So fragile. You didn’t want to kill him.

You didn’t want to kill him. You couldn’t kill him. His life was in your hands. He wouldn’t fight back, even if he could. Helpless. Hopeless. You wondered what it felt like. A small sigh escaped his lips. Tears of frustration left your eyes. You had to do this. Why was it so hard? If you didn’t, you would never leave this ship alive. Who were you, to prioritize some human’s life over your own?

But why did it have to be Keith? He was the first mate, a little voice chided. He was perfect. It had to be him. No. Yes. You didn’t know. A deep breath. A glowing tear splashed into the water, its fluorescent colour quickly diluted. There, and then gone. The rage that had been churning in your belly only a few minutes prior had dissipated, not unlike your tear. But you had to do this.

You didn’t want to do it.

But you did it anyway.

Stroking aside Keith’s hair, exposing his pale neck. He swayed slightly with the current. You leaned over, squeezing your eyes shut and parting your lips. Your second set of teeth zipped out, already coated with venom.

You hovered over Keith’s artery for a few agonising seconds, knowing that it would be over right then and there if you cut his throat. The feeling of his pulse, calm as ever, made your eyes water. Your venom wouldn’t even be needed. But you couldn’t do it. So you shifted your mouth and sank your teeth into his shoulder, only a few centimetres away from his artery.

The second you pierced his flesh, Keith gasped. The spell was broken. Scrambling away from you, he stifled a scream, pressing a hand to the wound in his shoulder. Blood gushed past his fingers and he frantically tried to get as far away from you as possible. His eyes, his beautiful violet eyes, were still trained on you, but where they once had been so calm and serene they were now filled with pure fear and hatred.

Your breathing turned ragged. The bubble shattered. In the water, you caught your own reflection: your eyes didn’t glow anymore, instead stormy with the same fear that filled Keith’s own. You turned back to him, your head a flurry of thoughts refusing to make sense.

“Keith–”

“Don’t,” he gasped, wiping at the blood staining his pale skin. “Just don’t.” He tried to stand up, weakly grasping at the walls for support, and then stumbled up the stairs. Your chest ached as you watched, helpless, not able to do anything but clutch the edges of the glass tank keeping you confined. The swishing of your tail in the water was soon the only sound to be heard in the cabin. Keith was gone. You let yourself slide back into the water.

What had you been thinking? Now that he was gone, and you could finally think straight again, the muddiness clouding your thoughts having dissipated, you saw how stupid you truly had been. You dipped your head into your hands. The one person who hadn’t wanted you dead, who had brought you food, who had seemed to at least slightly care for you now probably wanted your head on a stick as well.

You had bitten him. The one man on this ship that could have helped you live to see the next day, and you had bitten him. The look in his eyes when the spell broke–you would never forget the look of utter betrayal lacing the violet of his irises. You slowly shifted back into your far corner, casting regretful looks to the mackerels scattered on the cabin floor. Sardines, too. You didn’t know how long you could survive without eating, and you doubted someone would be so kind as to feed you anytime soon.

You let your eyes slide closed, curling up into a ball and using your fingers to pick at your tailfins. The grime from the dirty water already started dulling your scales and the edges of your fins had gotten slightly ragged. You were tired, but anytime you closed your eyes, Keith’s violet ones stared right back at you.

---

The door to your cabin was thrown open with a force that startled you to the point of you flapping your tail and emptying half of your tank’s contents on the cabin floor. You watched with wide eyes as Keith stalked down the stairs and right up to you, his dark eyebrows knotted into a scowl and his mouth twisted into a snarl. Out of instinct, you backed up until you couldn’t anymore. You resisted the urge to bare your teeth at him, keeping your lips sealed tightly shut.

“What is this?” Keith hissed, yanking away his shirt and exposing the wound on his shoulder. The cuts had been cleaned up: you could very clearly see each of the eight puncture marks left by your fangs. You could also see the black lines filtering through his pale skin, webbing outwards and emanating from those very puncture marks. Your heart skipped a beat.

Clearing your throat, you avoided the First Mate’s piercing gaze as you said, “Mermaids are venomous, Keith.” You fiddled with your nails. “It’s a self-defence mechanism. Involuntary.”

Keith dropped his head, gripping the edge of your tank and squeezing it until his knuckles turned white. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm himself down. Black tufts of hair fell into his eyes.

“Is the venom lethal?” His voice was barely above a whisper. It trembled.

“I don’t know,” you said truthfully. Keith shot you an incredulous look. “I really don’t, okay? I’ve never done this before. I’m not a hunter, I don’t know anything about mermaid venom.” You kept your gaze on Keith’s, not flinching back under his murderous stare. “It could take weeks to kill you, if it even will. I don’t know.”

Keith heaved a sigh, releasing his hold on the edge of the glass panel and sliding down against it so that his back was to you, not seeming to care about the wetness of the floor. After a few minutes of silent internal debating, your curiosity got the best of you. “Keith, why are you here?” He turned, raising an eyebrow. “You know what I mean. What do you want?”

He bit his lip, a hand coming up to brush his wounded shoulder. “I–I don’t know. I…”

“Aren’t you angry at me?” Approaching the side of the tank Keith sat against, you pressed a palm to the glass. “I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” The corner of Keith’s mouth curled up at your baffled expression. He shifted. “You’re right: you could have killed me. I was completely out of it. Completely under your control.” His gaze turned serious. “So why didn’t you?”

You thought back to the clenching in your stomach when Keith had knelt right in front of you, looking up at you with those eyes. The restriction of your chest as you had realised that there was no actual way that you would be able to kill him. The pull and push, not unlike the waves lapping against the shore, that had you wanting to be close to him while simultaneously repulsing you. The confusion that had plagued you for hours afterwards. “I don’t know.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking that for an answer.” He paused, one eyebrow raised. You said nothing, because what was there to say? You merely looked into each other’s eyes. Somehow, all feeling of threat that you had before had completely disappeared. You didn’t feel completely at ease with Keith yet, but you certainly didn’t feel like you were in danger anymore. “Well?” he prompted.

“Look,” you started, avoiding his eyes. “At first, I wanted to. I did. I felt so angry and helpless… I didn’t know what to do. I thought–I don’t even know what I thought.” You hollowed out your cheeks in frustration, waving your arms around to emphasise your point. “I’ve never used my hypnotic abilities before. I don’t know what triggered them, I don’t know how I used them, I don’t know what snapped me out of it.”

Keith frowned, pushing himself to his knees. “What do you mean, snapped you out of it?”

You cast him a small smile. “In a way, I was just as much in a trance as you were, Keith. Just as out of control.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?” Keith’s eyes grew more confused by the second.

A lump formed in your throat and you looked away. “I don’t know, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I have no bloody clue.” You ran a hand through your damp hair. You’d stayed above the water for so long that your hair had started to dry. Wincing, you splashed some water on your gills to keep them from aching too much. “You just looked so–I don’t know. But the only thought in my mind was that I couldn’t kill you. There was no way I could have killed you.”

Pursing his lips, Keith stared into the air in front of him, fiddling absent-mindedly with his fingers. You could almost hear the gears in his head turning. For a while, the two of you just sat next to each other, separated by nothing but a sheet of glass. One Landwalker, one Merfolk. Two species that were famous for their eternal mutual hatred, and yet here you sat next to Keith and for the first time since you had gotten captured you felt somewhat at peace.

---

The thundering of footsteps on the wooden stairs woke you with a jolt. Your mind immediately jumped to Keith, but when you listened closely you noticed that it was not one but two pairs of footsteps that resonated inside your cabin, and you recoiled into your corner, mind panicking. In a reflex against the loud noises, you bared your teeth and hissed, your eyes clouded with fear.

“Wait, wait–Sendak, stop!” That was Keith’s voice crying out. He tried to hold Sendak back, grabbing his arm, but ended up getting thrown into the wall like a ragdoll. You winced at the crash and squeezed your eyes shut when Keith’s grunt of pain resonated in your ears, louder than ever. Something unfurled in your chest, a burst of pain that had your breathing turn ragged and a lump form in your throat. You had never felt anything like that before, but the one thing you were sure of was that you had to get to Keith. You needed to make sure he was safe.

Unfortunately, you were stuck in a small tank, with no way to get anywhere bar a metre to the side. You frantically searched for him, but your view was blocked by Sendak–big, tall, scary Sendak–stalking over to you, eyes shining with malice and fury and his mouth twisted into a snarl. Your instincts were screaming at you to hide, but there was nowhere you could hide. The water was too filthy to even see properly in anymore, and Sendak didn’t look like he would be scared off by a little bit of water.

Now would be a really good time to use those sirenic abilities, you thought. But of course, nothing happened. Your breathing got faster by the second and you were paralysed in fear.

“So, filthy fish, you thought you could bite the first mate and get away with it?” Sendak hissed. You could do nothing but stare at him, could do nothing but blink sheepishly at the man who had threatened to kill you before and didn’t look like he would hesitate to do it now. “You thought you could poison him? Kill him, maybe? I bet you’d like that, huh. Well–”

He was cut off by Keith hurling himself in front of you, his back almost pressed against the glass of your tank. His arms were spread in a protective gesture, and for a second you thought that he was going to turn around and attack you too, but when he didn’t move and instead started yelling at Sendak you understood that he was protecting you. Keith was protecting you.

“Sendak, stop!”

The quartermaster made to shove him aside again, but Keith drew the sword hanging at his hip, forcing Sendak’s attention on him. “They did nothing wrong. I was careless, I was stupid. It’s my fault that I got bitten.”

Your heart was beating in your throat. Why was Keith saying these things? Surely he didn’t actually believe the words he spoke. You listened, your brain not quite processing what was happening.

“I swear, Sendak. Don’t hurt them, they didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault,” Keith repeated, lowering his voice. He’d dropped his sword to his side, but his knuckles had turned white, and the fingers of his other hand trembled, even though he’d balled them into a fist. You couldn’t see his face, but his leg muscles were tense, and his shoulders drawn up as if he was preparing himself for a fight.

“Kogane,” started Sendak, trying to keep his voice as low as Keith’s, “the fish’s venom could kill you. It could kill you. Are you just gonna let it walk?” A glance at your tail. “Swim, whatever.”

“I told you, it was my fault.”

Sendak cocked his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t believe you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I think you’re trying to protect the fish, for whatever reason.” He took a threatening step forward, forcing Keith to back into your tank even more. The latter raised his sword, shifting his stance. He truly looked like he was ready to fight for your life. But then he said something that must have impressed Sendak, as the bigger man’s eyes widened.

“Haggar needs them alive and in good state, remember?”

The comment stung more than it should have. You had known that you weren’t on the ship to stay; you had known that you had been captured to eventually serve a higher purpose, but you guessed that hearing it coming from Keith just made it sound even more real, somehow. It stung. You weren’t afraid to admit that, and you felt your eyes water as you looked away.

Sendak grunted, taking a small step back. He cocked his head, glancing over Keith’s shoulder your way. A corner of his mouth pulled up. “All right, then. If you say so.”

“I do,” said Keith sharply. Sendak’s smirk widened, if just a fraction.

“Okay.” Sendak stood in front of Keith for a moment longer before slowly backing away. You kept as silent as you could, barely daring to breathe at all, afraid that if you made your presence clear Sendak would come back and this time Keith wouldn’t be able to hold him back. For what felt like hours Keith stood in front of your tank, his back to you and his sword still in his hand. His shoulders were still tense and rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then he seemed to realise why he was down in your room in the first place and whirled around.

“Hey. Are you–are you okay?” he asked, lowering his sword. Taking a shaky breath, you looked away. Were you okay? No, you weren’t. You were, in fact, far from okay. But you nodded vaguely anyway, smoothing down the fins at your hips with trembling fingers.

“Keith, who’s Haggar?” The name left a foul taste in your mouth and you scrunched up your nose, but you were truly curious as to who this Haggar was. You figured you had a right to know, since she was apparently the one you would be sold to.

Heaving a pained sigh, Keith pulled a wooden stool next to your tank and slumped down on it, resting his forearms on his knees. He looked oddly interested in a dirty spot on the wooden floor, rubbing the tip of his boot over it listlessly. “Haggar,” he started, his voice strained, “is a scientist. She likes to experiment on all kinds of species.”

You listened with an open mouth and a growing feeling of disgust settling in your stomach. You were going to be experimented on. Like a lab rat. Slowly, you backed away until you couldn’t anymore. Tears mounted to the surface as you recalled the feeling of fresh salt water on your skin, or the tickle of sunrays drying the droplets. You wouldn’t ever feel that again.

You’d never see your family again. Shiro, Lance, Hunk, your parents. Your friends. The coral reefs and the thousands of fish and other marine animals you crossed every day back home. That was the moment that you thought, I really am trapped here. You would never see your home again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Keith’s voice, closer than you expected. You couldn’t help the hiss that made its way past your teeth, because how could he say that to you? Especially now? He could talk easily: he wasn’t the one who was going to be held captive at a laboratory and tested. Images of all sorts of torture devices that you had only heard stories about filled your mind.

“How can you say that?” you asked, your voice barely a wheeze. There was a desperate undertone to your voice. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

Carefully, hesitantly, Keith leaned forward and reached out until his fingers brushed your cheeks. Forcing you to look at him by cupping your cheeks, he said, “I’m not going to let that happen to you. You’re gonna get out of here, and alive and unharmed.”

His touch was like fire and ice, burning the skin his fingers brushed against. You were scared of what that fire would do to you but wanted to feel it more, wanted to explore the things you felt whenever Keith was near you. They scared you, but at the moment you didn’t care. You wanted more of it. You wanted to drown in it. It was strange. You hadn’t ever heard of mermaid drowning.

“How do you plan on doing that?” you said, sucking in a breath when Keith started brushing strands of hair away from your face. Don’t do that! you wanted to shout, but at the same time you wanted him to do anything but stop. You really needed to sort out your feelings. Keith frowned.

“I’m–I’m working on it,” he mumbled, drawing a giggle from your lips. A smile curled his own. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“You do that,” you told him, raking your eyes across his face, drinking in every detail. A warmth spread in your chest, seeping into your very bones and making the tips of your fins and fingers tingle with a type of electricity you had never felt before. Keith sighed, letting his hands fall to his side and slumped in his chair. He flinched when the movement sent a bolt of pain through his shoulder. Guilt settled in your stomach as you saw the black lines slithering up his neck and down his arm. The venom was spreading.

“It’s fine,” Keith assured you when he saw you look. “Only stings a bit.” The sweat beading on his forehead told you otherwise and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip, frantically racking your brain for something–anything–that could save Keith’s life. There were accidents all the time when merfolk got into a fight and one bit the other, so there had to be an antidote. There had to be. Shiro would know. Oh, why hadn’t you listened closer when he gave his boring lectures? Why had you thought that it was unimportant, because surely you weren’t stupid enough to let yourself get bitten? Seeing Keith like this, close to dying because of you, made you want to punch yourself even more.

He left all too quickly, promising you that he’d be back soon, that he needed some air to clear his head and figure out how he was going to get you off the ship. You waved him off with a strained smile, following the jagged lines up his neck with your eyes and silently swearing that you would do whatever it took to find the antidote.

---

“Tonight, Y/N,” Keith said before he’d even taken his place next to your tank. You splashed over to the edge and gripped it with both hands, your knuckles turning white, not caring about the litres of water that you sent cascading over the side of the glass. Keith had managed to convince the captain to have your water refreshed, and you could breathe a little more easily: the old water had gone completely stale and had been unbearable to live in.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m getting you out tonight. When everyone’s asleep,” Keith said softly, leaning forward as if afraid that someone would hear his words. “I got watch duty. If everything goes according to plan, nobody will even find out that you’re gone until morning.”

There were so many holes in this plan, so many things that could go wrong. “Keith, how would you even get me out of this tank?”

“I’ll carry you. I’ll be fine.” He flexed his shoulder absent-mindedly, and you didn’t miss the flinch crossing his features. But you knew Keith hated it when you fussed over him, so you kept your mouth shut.

“But they’ll know it was you who helped me,” you said, voice rising with worry.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow,” Keith waved your protests away. “Look, if we don’t do this tonight, I don’t think there’s gonna be another chance for you to escape at all. Two days before we go ashore and sell you to Haggar. We’re out of time.”

Even though you saw the logic in Keith’s reasoning and had to begrudgingly agree with him, images of worst-case scenarios flashed in front of your eyes. “What if we get caught?”

“We won’t,” said Keith firmly. He rolled his shoulder again.

But what if we do? Gritting your teeth, you banned the thought from your mind. Deep breaths, Y/N. You focused on the black lines that now started to cover Keith’s jaw and his hand, and probably started to creep along his chest too. As much as you hated it, you had no doubt in your mind that once the venom got to Keith’s heart and lungs that he would die. Why it took so long, you had no idea. But the jagged pattern reminded you vaguely of the blobs of shallow water seaweed floating in the current–

Seaweed. Algae. You clapped your hands over your mouth, stifling your gasp. Grabbing the edge of his stool, Keith leaned forward and hissed, “What?” But you could do nothing but stare. Why, oh why, hadn’t you thought of this before?

“The antidote,” you breathed. “I just remembered. It’s a type of black algae, I know where to find it. You–you have to grind it to powder and then mix it with salt water and it’ll draw the venom out.”

Slowly, Keith sat back on his stool, looking baffled by your words. His fingers crept up to where your teeth marks had swollen and grown infected, lightly tracing the black veins sprouting from them. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive,” you said, already thinking of ways to get the algae to him when you’d have found them. If you even got off the ship. You would just have to be extremely cautious while swimming back to the ship, making sure to not get caught again. Yes, you could do that. You would have to, if you wanted Keith to live at all.

As you looked into each other’s eyes, you could feel the weight of the promises you made to each other at that moment. Keith’s promise to get you off the ship unharmed, and your promise to come back with the antidote that would save Keith’s life. You supposed there was a certain irony in the whole situation: after wishing for days to get away from the ship, now you were already counting the hours until you could get back.

“Careful, careful,” you hissed, tightening your hold around Keith’s neck when he started up the stairs. The strain in his muscles was easy to feel, and the trembling of his arms gave away that you were heavier than he let on. But he gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip on you, climbing up the steps one by one, slowly, never losing his footing. You poked your nose up in the air, catching the salty smell of the ocean.

Excitement curled in your stomach, and you gripped Keith’s shoulders even tighter, but letting go at the audible wince of pain that slipped past his lips. “Sorry,” you whispered.

From the ship, the stars were brighter than you had ever seen them before. They shone like little glowfish, trapped in the black sky and you craned your neck, marvelling at their beauty. They reflected in the water, their light distorted by the ripples of coming waves. The moon glowed even brighter than the stars, illuminating the deck with its soft silver glow. You flicked your fins, suddenly resisting the urge to squirm from Keith’s hold and just book it for the waves. They seemed to call out to you. They beckoned you home.

“Keith,” you whined, digging your nails into the skin on his neck, your eyes trained on the water surrounding the ship. You needed to get out there. Now. Right now.

“I know,” he said. “I know.” He stepped out towards the railing and you heaved a sob, already starting to wriggle like an impatient child.

“Kogane. What a surprise seeing you here,” a voice rang out over the deck, not sounding surprised at all.

Keith tensed up, at the same time that your heart seemed to skip a beat in your chest, a “No!” slipping from your lips. Keith didn’t even turn as he said, “Sendak.”

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to turn your back on your crew this easily,” Sendak drawled, snickering at his own joke. “But I’m not even going to pretend that I won’t enjoy killing you.”

“Get ready,” Keith muttered to you, his voice low enough that you had to concentrate to hear it. “I’m going to throw you over the railing.” You felt him slowly adjust his stance. Your breathing instantly quickened.

“You’ll get killed,” you replied just as softly, not being able to ban the worry from your voice. “I don’t want to leave you.” And it was true. Because even though you wanted to join the sea again, you wanted Keith to be safe more. And to be honest, you didn’t really want to get off the ship if it meant leaving Keith at the mercy of Sendak. But you knew that Keith would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him.

“Turn around and face me, Kogane. Hand over the fish, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Keith, and you wondered quietly, How can he lie so easily?

Before you could change your mind, you grabbed Keith’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you curled your hands to fists on his chest and touched your nose to his. “For good luck.” For a split second, you looked into each other’s eyes, wondering why fate had to be so cruel.

And then he took two steps forward and launched you over the railing, and the last thing you saw before hitting the water’s surface was Keith whirling around and drawing his sword just in time to block Sendak’s attack. Then you broke the sea’s smooth surface, and you were swimming again, acting on instinct and getting as far away from the ship as possible, going deeper and deeper, ignoring the pull in your chest towards the man you loved.

You swam into Shiro about four hours after you had taken off from the ship. You had been calling out desperately, straining your muscles and forcing your tail to propel you forward as fast as possible, when he had finally answered. As he crashed into you, sending both of you spiralling, he wrapped his arms around you in a crushing hug, and you couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore. You completely broke down in sobs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Shiro shushed, stroking your hair and lovingly rubbing his fins against yours. His aura of safety only made you cry harder, because Keith should have been here with you. It wasn’t fair that you were safe while he was fighting for his life–because he had saved yours. “Y/N, what happened? I heard that you were captured–a couple of nurse sharks picked up your blood trail and warned us. I’ve been worrying my tail off.”

So you told him everything, from the moment the net had first started pulling you up to the second Keith had thrown you overboard, thus saving your life. Shiro had frowned when you first started talking about Keith, but he must have noticed how much you cared about him, because his eyes softened and his scowl disappeared. “But I bit him, Shiro. I need some black algae, I need to get back to him. I have to–”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Shiro said, grabbing your wrists to prevent you from swimming away.

You grunted, trying to break free from his hold. “Let me go. He saved my life, Shiro!”

“I know, and I will forever be thankful for it. But you can’t just go and swim back and put your life in danger for this–this Landwalker.”

“He put his life in danger for me countless times! He’s doing it right now! I don’t even know if he’s alive,” you shouted, voice cracking on the last word. “Please, Shiro.”

He cast you a pained look, anxiously flicking his tail. “Okay. Fine. But there’s no way you’re going back out there alone.”

You flung your arms around his neck, blubbering a string of thanks, but before you could take off towards the ship again, Shiro grabbed your arm once more. “Wait. Let me call the others. If we’re really gonna do this, we’re gonna need backup.”

It took you just under a day to reach the ship. You only allowed yourselves to take a couple of breaks, gorging yourselves on various fish for energy. Allura and Shiro swam at your sides, Lance, Hunk and Coran behind you. Shiro had filled them all in quickly, explaining the big picture of what had happened. As expected, your fellow Merfolk weren’t too happy about your insistence to launch yourself back into danger for the sake of one human.

“A Merfolk and a Landwalker,” Allura muttered beside you when the ship came into view, a vague dark blob floating on the current. “Unbelievable.”

“All right, guys,” Shiro shouted from in front of you. He gestured for everyone to huddle around him. He glanced at you and handed you his pouch. You knotted it around your waist. “In there are the black algae. you know how to apply it.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around the group. “You all know your role: buy Y/N the time to grab Keith and then book it. Don’t engage in a fight, only defend yourselves and the rest. Got it?”

You cleared your throat. “I just–I really appreciate that you guys are doing this for me.”

A nod from Shiro. Tension rippled through the group. None of you needed to say anything; you knew what was at stake and what needed to be done. So after a moment of silence, you scattered.

From the moment you gave the first beat of your tail, there was nothing on your mind but Keith. Save Keith. You made sure to approach the ship from underneath, staying out of view, and grabbed hold of an iron bolt, collecting your thoughts before you started to climb up the side of the ship, pressing your body flush to the wood. Around you, your friends breached the surface and started screaming at the sailors, hopefully taking them by surprise: you saw nets descend into the clear water, but now the mermaids were ready. It was time to show these pirates just how deadly a group of angry Merfolk could be.

You sank your nails into the wood of the ship. The surface of the water was just a couple of centimetres above your head, and you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A line floated in the water next to you, and you grabbed hold of it and started pulling yourself up. When you were completely above water, you stopped and held still, listening for any sign that you had been spotted and ready to let go of the line and drop if that was the case, but the screaming you heard was directed at the back of the ship, not the front, where you were. The distraction was working.

So you continued on, pulling yourself up, centimetre by centimetre. By the time you reached the height of the figurehead, your arms were trembling and your breathing had gotten ragged. You paused, glaring at the wooden mermaid staring helplessly into the void, tied to the boat by a sculpted wooden rope. “Anatomy’s off,” you hissed through clenched teeth before hoisting yourself up with a grunt.

The railing was right above you. One more pull and you would be in full view. You sucked in a deep breath, curled your fingers around the wood and pulled.

Your eyes frantically searched the almost deserted deck. The majority of the crew was running around the other side of the deck, screaming at each other and at your friends. None of them paid attention to you. Then your eyes landed on Keith and your grip on the railing tightened.

He was tied to the big mast and he looked bad. Only barely conscious, he had been stripped of his shirt, so that you could see every jagged line that your venom left on his skin. They had expanded to his cheek and down his chest, and your throat closed up with the thought that you could be too late, but then you banned the idea. You weren’t too late. It was impossible. What truly made your chest clench were the deep cuts on his back, covering his pale skin in dried blood. His upper arms sported deep gashes too, no doubt to prevent him from fighting back. His head hung forward, his chin touching his chest and red with blood. His black hair was a tousled mess, sticking to his forehead and neck, the skin there slick with sweat. He looked like the ropes tying him to the mast were the only things keeping him upright.

“No, no,” you whispered, focusing on his chest, checking if he was still breathing. He was, if only barely. “Keith!” you cried out, a sob tearing itself from your chest.

He lifted his head slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyebrows furrowed. You called out his name again, and this time he managed to open his eyes and look at you. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but broke into a coughing fit and doubled over. Fresh, bright red blood dripped down his chin.

A hand grabbed Keith’s hair and forced his head up, drawing a whimper of pain from his lips, and you screamed.

“Well, hello there, fish,” Sendak said, his breathing heavy and his grip on Keith’s hair tightening. The first thing you noticed was a gash over his right eye: it looked fresh, and you were sure it hadn’t been there when you left. He drew his sword, and you lurched forward, reaching out with an arm but grabbing only air: the railing was the only thing holding you up, and Sendak and Keith were way out of your reach. Sendak knew this, too, and didn’t even flinch when you bared your teeth at him in a furious snarl. “That little trick doesn’t work on me any more, fish! You’re going to have to do better than that!”

But you didn’t have better than that, and both you and Sendak knew it. You were trapped, and so was Keith, and Sendak’s eyes sported a manic glint that sent cold shivers down your spine.

“He fought like a beast, you know,” Sendak said. “Actually incapacitated a good twenty men before finally being overpowered. Got a nick at my eye, too,” he snarled and pointed at the cut. “It was impressive.” He cast you a sideways look, giving Keith’s head a shake, and the cry of pain he let out made your heart clench. “But not good enough.”

“Sendak, he did nothing wrong,” you said, knowing that it would do nothing to change the man’s mind, but you were out of ideas. You were willing to try anything. “Just let him go–he’s suffered enough–”

Sendak barked a laugh. “Suffered enough?” His manic grin turned into a snarl. “But, you see, fish, I don’t do enough.” He lifted his sword up to Keith’s neck and pressed the blade into his skin, drawing droplets of blood to the surface. “You know what, I think I’m going to kill him right now. His blood will stain this deck for the next decade.”

You didn’t know what exactly triggered it. It was probably everything together that made you snap, but the next thing you knew your eyes were glowing and you started screaming.

Sendak let his arms drop to his side and froze, just like Keith had done when he had been trapped underneath your spell. Only this time, you were dead set on keeping control. “Free him,” you growled, pointing at Keith. Picking up his sword, Sendak turned to Keith and sliced through the ropes. Keith crumbled to the floor like a ragdoll.

“Pick him up,” you commanded. Sendak did, his eyes dull and free of the anger and cruelty that had filled them only moments before. Strange, you thought, how a predator could turn another into a prey. You were just higher on the food chain.

“Bring him to me.”

When Sendak set Keith down in front of you and stepped away, waiting for further orders, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into the crook of his neck and let your tears fall freely. He let out a groan, trying to lift his arms, but you pulled away and cupped his face, brushing strands of matted black hair from his face. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Keith opened his eyes, albeit with trouble, but when he did and met your eyes, they lit up and the soft smile that stretched his lips made a bubble of heat burst in your chest and you laughed.

“Y/N! WATCH OUT!” Shiro’s voice roared out over the deck and yanked you back to reality, and you looked up just in time for you to duck away and narrowly avoid Sendak’s sword’s blade and stifling a scream. As you looked up, scrambling to protect Keith with your own body, Sendak hovered over you and raised his sword again with a roar, and you squeezed your eyes shut and tightened your hold on Keith, burying your head into his chest, waiting for the final blow.

But it never came.

Instead, the unmistakable crash of a sword falling on the deck resonated in the wood, followed by Sendak bellowing in pain. You yanked your head upright again, and saw the big man grasping at his arm, where you spotted a knife–similar to the one you had carried before getting captured–buried in the flesh up to the hilt. Your gaze trailed to the other side of the deck, where a figure was leaning over the railing–Shiro. The belt he wore across his chest and where his dagger should have been sheathed was empty. He was frantically waving at you, one arm supporting him on the ship’s railing, and shouting something lost to the wind but that you could make out by reading his lips: “Let’s go!”

You nodded at him, turning to Keith and tapping the boy’s cheeks until he groggily opened one eye. “Hold your breath,” you said, wrapping your arms around his chest and letting yourself slide off the side of the ship.

---

“Hello, handsome,” you called to the man picking his way along the beach, resting your chin on your hand. Keith answered in the form of a wave and a blown kiss, keeping a careful eye on where he placed his feet so that he didn’t tumble into the sea. When he finally got to you, you hoisted yourself up on your arms and beamed a smile at him, squinting because of the sun rays. Keith flopped down next to you and pulled you in for a kiss, cupping your cheek with one hand and letting the other play with the hair at the back of your neck.

You pulled away and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then his other cheek, and then the tip of his nose, feeling the butterflies in your stomach act up in response to Keith’s giggles. Then you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it aside and running your fingers over the teeth marks on his shoulder.

The black algae had done their work and drawn the venom out, but the scars from your bite would stay forever. Even though Keith had said that he didn’t mind the scars at all, you frowned at the wound. The fact that Keith had almost died because of you still didn’t sit quite right with you.

He had been living in a small fishermen’s village for the past few weeks, resting up. He had told you that he didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon: the people in the village were nice, and–he’d added with a wink–the two of you could meet up anytime you wanted.

“Find anything new?” Keith joked, gently taking your hands and kissing your knuckles.

You smiled. “You know I haven’t,” you said, flicking your tail and scratching at a scale.

With a sigh, Keith shifted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We’re okay. I’m okay.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and said, “I know.”

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syrahnbloodfeather · 6 years

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The Webs We Weave

The angry crowd was in full force this morning.

The Amber Castle was surrounded by a moat of elves, all trying to shout over each other to angrily explain their grievances. The guardsmen kept their weapons sheathed but their shields at the ready, creating a block at the single portcullis to prevent them from surging forth and storming the castle; others patrolled the walls to make sure nobody tried scaling the walls, while a handful of guards kept vigilant along the four towers, armed with crossbows - just in case things got out of hand.

They were out there long enough to compel House Bloodfeather to respond, and who better to speak to the people than the Commander of the Amber Glade? When Syrahn appeared the crowd grew even louder, shouting all sorts of things directly at her while they tried to muscle through the wall of shields and heavy plated armor. By the time her sister Miriam wrote up a convincing speech, there were well over five hundred people gathered where they could see her, with no signs of anyone dispersing anytime soon; it wasn’t every day a commoner was able to get an audience with the “Glade Queen” they so affectionately called her. A part of her felt like that was an insult, but over half a year of hearing that title, Syrahn decided to own it. She raised her hand to silence the crowd, and after a prolonged period, they eventually settled down.

“I know you have many questions… many concerns. I am grateful for the peaceful assembly, and will reward your patience with the answers you seek.” Her voice was amplified by speakers, carrying her words far beyond her sight, while a barrage of white flashes of light struck her face and body from cameras too numerous to count. “Thanks to the outstanding vigil and bravery of our City Guard, the threat to the Amber Glade has been swiftly dealt with.” It was difficult to lie to the faces of so many people, but not as difficult as she had thought. After all, she was learning from the best. “Our borders have already been secured, our safety within the boundaries of the Glade, guaranteed. I’ve ordered the masons to work day and night to get our border rebuilt, and doubled the guard patrols in the area to prevent any criminals from trespassing on our homeland.”

“Lady Bloodfeather! What about the rumors that the attacker was actually Alucieus Sun’rael, the sole Sin’dorei High Justicar?” a man shouted over the crowd while concerned murmurs reverberated like ripples across a pond.

“A falsehood.” Syrahn calmly yet quickly answered. “Lord Alucieus died in Dalaran from wounds he received fighting in Highmountain.” She felt nauseous from that, but she was able to swallow it down to maintain a confident façade.

“Many of our sons were killed during that attack!” Another shouted from her distant left. “What will House Bloodfeather do for us?!”

Syrahn glanced down at the parchment in her hands, hidden on the other side of her podium from the countless prying eyes. “Your sons have been avenged. We will hold a proper ceremony to honor those that fell during the struggle.” The steady crescendo of angry voices was all she needed to hear when gauging the crowd. She raised a hand again to silence them before adding, “Their funerals will be paid for in full, as well as the rest of their year’s salary to the grieving families. I cannot give you back your sons, brothers, or fathers… but I hope we all give their souls the rest they deserve.”

Miriam watched her sister's display from within the castle. Syrahn was quickly learning to effectively peddle lies to the brainless fools at the bottom of the pecking order, but she still had a long way to go before she could get anything past Miriam. Casually the woman sipped from her wine glass to maintain her numbing buzz, staying just tipsy enough to keep herself occupied. The crowd was finally thinning out by the time she finished the last few drops of the bottle, giving Syrahn some merciful reprieve from their exhausting interrogation. Slowly she waved to them one last time before turning to retreat back into the Amber Castle. “How are you feeling?” Miriam asked once the doors behind her were closed. Syrahn shot her an exhausting look before tearing the parchment down the middle to toss the pieces over her shoulders.

“Tired and angry. And in desperate need for a drink.” Syrahn seemed to limp a bit while they continued down the hallway; she shouldn’t stand with her knees locked for such a long time.

Miriam let out a sigh before looking down at her disgruntled sister. “I know it feels wrong to lie to so many people. For a long time I hated it too, for a time… but as the um… ahem… ‘Glade Queen’... it is your duty to ensure your people feel safe, even when they shouldn’t. It’s a necessary evil, Syrahn. You did well today.”

“You rarely give me words of encouragement…” Syrahn narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Miriam. “... what’s happened? What’s the bad news?”

“See for yourself.” Miriam opened the door to Syrahn’s office and gestured for her sister to step inside. Immediately Syrahn noticed the large wooden chest sitting in the middle of the room, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was made of duskwood oak, covered in pale elf leather, and reinforced with ghost iron; a bleak and dreary thing, especially when surrounded by orange velvet and crimson curtains. Resting upon it was a banner as black as night, and the silhouette of a raven entwined in twisting vines; the unmistakable sigil of House Sun’rael.

“Is that… the payment…?” Syrahn was reluctant to ask. It certainly didn’t look to be six million gold coins. Miriam remained silent, instead gesturing toward the chest again. Hesitantly she stepped closer to place her hand on the banner. It was such a peculiar thing, being this close to this sigil; she had seen it so many times flapping alongside the Bloodsworn Vanguard banners of old, she could perfectly draw it straight from memory. Yet seeing it now, it seemed so… foreign. Opening the chest turned out to be a mistake. The heavy iron lock was already popped open, likely from the court’s locksmith, yet the lid was far heavier than she expected. Inside sat row after row of gold coins, all bearing the face of the late King Anasterian. The hopeful twinkle in her eyes came and went in an instant after doing a quick count. There weren’t nearly enough.

“The chest came with this letter.” Miriam stepped forward and offered it with an extended hand. Syrahn carefully closed the chest without smashing her fingers, straightened out her robes when she stood up straight, and hesitantly took the letter to inspect it.

“The seal is broken.” She narrowed her eyes at the letter before glancing up at her sister.

Miriam turned to the nearby table and began pouring herself more wine. “As chief of security I am responsible for your safety. When the High Justicar laid waste to our outer defenses, we became vulnerable… any fool with enough determination can draw a fire rune in a forged letter.” She turned to glance back at Syrahn. “Read it. You’ll want to know what it says.” Closely she watched her youngest sister’s expression change faster than she could blink.

(( You can read the letter here. ))

“She sold all of Alucieus’ belongings to make this payment… and it’s only nine hundred thousand…” Syrahn’s furrowed brow relaxed into a frustrated scowl. “And… it’s the last she’s sending.” She took a step to the side to sit on the edge of the chest; the Glade Queen fell silent again, her eyes darting back and forth along the letter almost as quick as lightning. Slowly but surely her furrowed brow returned. “Gods… she was atta-”

A heavy knock on the door nearly caused her to fall backwards over the chest. “C-come in!” Miriam set her glass of wine down the moment Captain Zandis stepped into the chamber; he was carrying an urn painted with his house’s colors. “Zandis…”

“Lady Miriam. Lady Bloodfeather.” He was almost unrecognizable with his voice blown out; the black circles under his eyes kept Syrahn’s tongue still. “I am sending in my resignation as Captain of the Guard. I am returning to my home to scatter my father’s ashes.”

Miriam crossed her arms while she started carefully watching him next. “There’s no need to be so drastic. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Zandis didn’t bother looking up at either Bloodfeather. “I am sure.”

“I can’t stop you from leaving.” Syrahn finally found her voice again. “Take all the time you need to mourn… but I need you to come back. Please Zandis… reconsider. I… need you here to defend me.”

Slowly the elf’s piercing gaze rose to meet the Glade Queen’s. “I watched my father die.” His trembling voice was now seething with rage. “My father is dead because I did nothing!”

“That’s not true…” Syrahn was quick to interrupt, but her words were unconvincing even to her.

Miriam’s slight grimace remained steadfast. “If you charged the High Justicar, he would have killed you too. Or, he would have killed Syrahn. You already know this.”

Zandis almost staggered forward while choking on his words, but whether it was from furious anger or exhaustion, they couldn’t be sure. “If I fought alongside… we could have…” He covered his face with his only free hand, squeezing the urn so tightly against his chest it threatened to shatter. He regained his composure quickly enough, glaring vacantly in their direction before straightening himself out again. “Will that be all, Lady Bloodfeather.”

“I…” Syrahn didn’t know what else to say to him. Zandis was a good man and a capable fighter, he certainly proved that when she rose to claim the Amber Glade for herself; he was a true friend of House Bloodfeather, and the thought of him stepping out of her life forever brought her nothing but confusion. “Y-yes…” Without another word he spun on his heel and departed. Syrahn collapsed back onto the chest the moment the door slammed shut, letting the letter slip from her hands to fall idle on the floor.

Miriam plucked her glass of wine off the table to finish what she started. “House Sun’rael is not paying us what is owed. Her daughter has risen to power in her house. Assassins tried to kill her in her apartment, bearing House Greyshade’s ensignia. And now we need another Captain of the Guard.” She downed the glass before tossing it back onto the table. “I’m beginning to think House Sun’rael isn’t the ally you were hoping for.”

“Both Alucieus and Sorlu died because of my botched plans. The damage to the Amber Glade is my fault.” Syrahn leaned forward and dropped her face into her awaiting hands. “I just tried to do what’s right.”

“Might I offer some council?” Her sister walked over and sat on the chest beside alongside her. “You are trying to do too many things at once, too quickly. Take a deep breath, take all the time you need… then focus on one task at a time. It’s what I did when I was head of our family when our brothers left.” Miriam paused only to place a hand on her shoulder. “One. Task. At a time. Now, Syrahn, Daughter of Baeran: what is your next move?”

Syrahn glanced up to look Miriam in the eyes for a moment to collect herself. Then the determination flashed across her face once again. “Find a craftsman in the Market Square. I need them to make a chest just like this one… but four times bigger.” The Glade Queen tapped the chest with her palm before turning to look around the room, as if the answers she needed were floating around her head. “I can mimic Kaevia’s penmanship if I put some practice in…”

“You plan to forge a letter?” Miriam perked a brow. “That would be very bad for us if we’re caught.”

“If we’re caught. The other houses will not put this issue to rest unless they’re convinced House Sun’rael has paid the debt in full. If these assassins truly did come from us… from House Greyshade… we’ll need to stop them. Hopefully the debt being repaid will suffice until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you plan to confront Lord Iveth Greyshade about his missing brooch?” Miriam asked.

“I do. But not publicly.” The wheels in Syrahn’s head were beginning to turn. “I don’t want to start pointing fingers before I know for certain. Only a fool would dress assassins in their own colors.”

Miriam leaned back with a smirk on her lips, clearly pleased. “Very good. And the new captain?”

“Many in House Bladewhisper are handy with a blade. Offer the position to one of them.” Syrahn slowly rose from the chest to approach the window. “Get Viridias in on this. She’s better with money than both of us combined.”

“At once.” She couldn’t tell if Miriam was mocking her or not, but she didn’t care. The Glade Queen remained silent while her oldest sister left her alone with this bleak chest, finally giving her the alone time she needed to sort her thoughts out.

She promised herself she wouldn’t give her friends any more favors. She was mistaken.

Mentions: @alucieussunrael @k-sunrael

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cherryplasmids · 7 years

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☆ woeful pressures ☆

pairing: daenerys targaryen x reader fandom: game of thrones anon request: hi can u do a dany x reader where the reader is from a noble/royal family and dany and her have been lovers since childhood but what dany doesnt know is that the reader has been pressured all her life into being like perfect royalty and its really getting to her and dany tries to stop her from like jumping off a cliff?? ik its a harsh topic so its okay if u dont write it :)) notes: TRIGGER WARNING (suicidal thoughts/attempt) — dorhaven is a made up place. — btw, the ending is kinda trash. I didn’t know how to end it.

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Kingdom of Dorhaven exceeded any written or artistic interpretation expressed based on its beauty. It appeared unreal at times, a fantasy unworthy of everyone who did not reside there. Everything in the region exuded absolute charming allure; the magnificent scenery, vast seas of peculiar cornflower-blue, rare species of flora and fauna, and the breathtaking indigenous people and their culture.

Daenerys was extremely grateful every time she was invited over to meet with the royal family of Dorhaven. They had been incredibly kind to her ever since her youth, taking her in as their own in her time of need. And they trusted her. From the past to the present, they promised their loyalty to her cause of creating a harmonious Westeros future. In a time where loyalty is constantly questioned, Daenerys was absolutely thrilled of having allies who were nothing but loyal. It certainly didn’t hurt that Dorhaven had the most beautiful princess in all of Westeros history.

Y/N was the exact symbol of sexy and graceful. She was everything everyone could ever want, including Daenerys. The Dragon Queen fought tooth and nail to get the princess to notice her and eventually court her. And once they did begin a relationship, nothing but utter love and worship spurred by it. Daenerys entire dream of sitting on the Iron Throne was because of you. If Cersei wins the war, Dorhaven, an incredibly rich region with extremely fertile land and numerous of wealth advantages over the other important cities of Westeros, would be under her command. She would purge the untainted area with her hateful, envious, and selfish agendas. The peaceful Kingdom of Dorhaven would collapse and become a nostalgic memory of harmony and prosperity.

Daenerys and her allies would stop at nothing in order to keep that disgusting possibility from occurring.

The unusual colored seas crashed against the tan cliff, foaming after the sudden impact. Daenerys had been watching it for quite some time from her bedroom window until you walked into her line of sight. It was such a serene sight, calming Daenerys and ridding of all the worries of impending, inevitable wars. An adoring smile set itself on her lips and after a few moments, she removed her eyes from the scene in order to give yourself some privacy.

He eyes did land on her untidy desk in which she decided to clear it up since you would be coming over later. You disliked disorganization. She shuffled between opened and closed letters from Tyrion, Jorah, and even Jon Snow. She knew each of them would be worried since she did go to Dorhaven alone without any sort of Dothraki guards to protect her. She would respond to them later after another day of rest since she wanted her attention solely on you.

When Daenerys was just about finished with cleaning, her hand grazed over a sealed letter from you which was addressed to her. With curiosity eating at her, she delicately rips open the seal and begins reading what you wrote.

My Love,

It has been over seven moons since I last saw you and the weight of the world seems not only to crash on your shoulders but mine as well.

It seems rather pathetic to even compare my troubles to yours, but when have I ever been short of being pathetic? You have several wars to worry about, as well as your inevitable coronation as Queen of the Andals and the First Men. No one would be prouder than I would be. However, I do not believe I would be attending such grand occasion. It would not be right for me to taint such a glorious moment.

Seven Moons. Seven moons since I had last laid unclothed against your bare chest. Seven moons since I had last kissed your lips with such fiery passion that the gods themselves have envied. Seven moons since I whispered indecent words that left you shaking underneath my touch. Seven moons since I last felt at ease and worthy.

The pressures of being royalty have finally have caught up, my dear. My father is ill and my mother grows old. They speak of my coronation date, which set to the near future. I am not ready for such event, for the responsibility of protecting the Kingdom and all of its inhabitants. The mere thought frightens me. I am not you, Daenerys. I was not destined for a prosperous reign where everyone loved me. I am supposed to be hidden in the shadows, behind my family’s fortune and your increasing success. I am simply unworthy to be anything more.

It is easier to be rid of me than pity me. And with my final action, I will undo all the burden I bestowed upon my family, the nation, and most importantly, you.

This is my last goodbye, Y/N

Daenerys throws the paper away from her as if It burned her. She clutches the fabric around her chest, wanting to hold her heart in order to ease the pain. Quickly dashing to the window, she observes the extremely small distance between Y/N and the edge of the cliff. The tears she had been attempting to hold in, suddenly releases as Daenerys begins sprinting towards her depressed lover.

She felt utterly devastated and blamed herself for Y/N’s overwhelming sadness. You had been incredibly helpful throughout Daenerys road to vengeance and rightful claim to the Iron Throne. On numerous occasions, You had helped her through self-loathing and mental breakdowns. There had been so many times where she wanted to give up and settle down in Braavos or Meereen, but you would bring her back to a state of ease. She credited all her success to you and all the late night reassurance.

And yet, when you needed her most, she disregarded it. She never observed the way you were too tired of simply activities or would excuse yourself from dinner. She never noticed the fact that it was her doing all the talking with you simply listening and not interrupting her in awe. She began noting every single behavioral change you exemplified and silently reprimanded herself for being immensely obtuse.

But right now, all she needed to do was to protect you from yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The wind whipped gently around you as you took steps toward the edge of the cliff. You peered down, watching the unidentifiable creatures bask in the cool foam the waves created. Their delightful purrs used to make you smile, but now, it doesn’t stir a single emotion. Nowadays, nothing made you emotional.You were tired and no extensive sleep schedule would cure it. Only one thing would, which is exactly why you were at a cliff. It had taken you months for the courage to actually get this close to the edge. All you needed now was a few moments of bravery to jump, or at least walk off.

However, now that you stood at the edge, inspecting the view down to your ultimate final destination, you hesitated. Did you really want this? It appeared to be a good idea days ago, but not anymore. Was death your desire? No, it wasn’t. You simply wanted to escape all the pressures of being future Queen and head of your house. It was a terrible burden and no matter how much your family attempted to mask it, it was clear as day. Your parents wanted to continue the legacy, but you believed you would be the cause of its downfall. No, you felt unworthy of having the responsibility of protecting the nation.

If you tried running away to any of the Free Cities of Essos, you would be discovered within days by family comrades. And no one in Dorhaven would even dare attempt to cross the Narrow Sea to start a life in Westeros. So you were stuck in a life full of redundancy and complete sadness.

Only one thing would keep you from slipping from the depths of eternal loneliness and it came in the form of violet eyes and platinum blonde hair. Daenerys kept your small ember burning longer than expected. She was the sole thing that made you emotional. She was able to love you and cherish you beyond any fathomable idea.

All in all, she made you feel worthy.

Oh lord did she stir up emotions that you didn’t believe you had. Just thinking about it made you tear up because within a few moments, you would never be able to hold her in your arms again or gaze into her unique eyes. That alone made you completely fall apart.

Your knees buckled underneath you as you sobbed into your hands, desperately wishing for the utter depression to vanish. However, the edge of the cliff began rumbling, the sudden weight causing the limestones to shift in the wrong direction. You tried scrambling to your feet but the movement only caused the stones to crumble quicker and before you knew it, your body had fallen off half the cliff. A strangled cry released from your throat. All attempts of you hauling yourself over the stable land was impossible. Your weak hands could barely hold onto the jagged rock that was slowly piercing your skin as you applied more pressure.

It made you no longer want to die.

“Help!” You screamed out. Your hand began to slip, the rock cutting into your hand, allowing blood to trail down your arm.

The Ancient Gods answered your pleas and sent an angel down to save you, to help you through your time of great need. It was the exact thing you dreamed of every night.

Daenerys violet eyes were wide with complete terror written across her face. She grabbed both of your arms in hers and roughly pulled you up to the top before dragging your a few feet away from the edge. Although you were in pain, the gigantic hole in your hand is a clear symbol, you were extremely happy to see your beautiful lover.

She was crying, her violet eyes shedding tears of both sorrow and happiness. She cradled you in her arms and you couldn’t help but reprimand yourself. You decided to just leave the life you had without any thought of who you might hurt. Daenerys didn’t deserve that type of heartbreak and you hated yourself at the thought of it.

“Daenerys,” You whispered, breaking apart from her arms to gaze at her face. You rested a hand on her cheek before releasing a stream of tears. “I’m sorry.”

The Dragon Queen stared at you with complete confusion and sadness. “There is nothing to apologize for. You have done more than enough and you are worthy of everything. Worthy of your family, your kingdom, and above all else, worthy of my love.”

A smile, a genuine smile graced your lips for the first time in months. You nodded gently, wanting to say something, to reassure her that you wanted to live as long as the Ancient Ones would allow it. But the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you laid there with your loved one rocking you into blissful content.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1, 871 published: december 27, 2017 edited: n/a

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #dany x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #request #femslash #ASoIaF #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys imagine #angst #dragonglassx

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slytherinstation · 6 years

Text

Signature Character Tag: Pansy Parkinson

I was tagged by @sunshineandrainyflowers to do Pansy. I have a lot of thoughts about my girl Pansy, so hold on tight. I’m just going to go ahead and give you how Pansy’s backstory fans out in my brain. Enjoy the headcanon mess.

This was started by @paradoxes-and-plotholes in this lovely post here.

Let’s start out with how Pansy came to be.

The Parkinson’s were a part of the Sacred 28...or so everyone thought. Pansy’s mother, Deirdre Cypress Burke, was married off at the young age of 19 after almost two years of arranging on her parents’ part. She married Cessair Don Parkinson, becoming Mrs. Parkinson and thus securing her established spot within the Sacred 28. Deirdre would soon find that trips to Knockturn Alley were her escape of choice when her husband’s temper became seemingly short. She often visited her Uncle Caractacus’s shop on her trips, ogling at what new treasures she always seemed to find. One night was particularly bad, her husband railing about how she was not yet with child and the need to continue the family line. She apparated out of the house before he could see her cry and onto the streets of Knockturn Alley. Her focus was almost immediately drawn to a loud commotion outside Borgin and Burke’s. Two men stood and watched as another man performed hex after hex on a figure who appeared to be curled up on the ground, his screams piercing the otherwise silent night. Without a second thought, Deirdre retrieved her wand and shouted towards the men from across the street.

“Stop it! Stop it right this second, you absolute scum. Let him up!” Her words caused the men to halt and turn towards her. It was but a second before they erupted into derisive laughter at the sight of her. The puffy eyes, grey nightrobes, and tear stained cheeks of Deirdre Parkinson probably appeared non-threatening to the three men who made the mistake of insulting her with their laughter that night. It wasn’t until they saw the glimpse of rage in her eyes that they realized their mistake. And with a flick of her wand, they saw the wrath of Deirdre. Some would spectate that it was her pent-up anger at her husband that caused her outburst that night. However, others believe it to be the predisposed crazy in her DNA via her relation to the Black bloodline through her grandfather Phineas. However, it was simply because deep down, she was one of the first brave enough to think thoughts that would lead to the inevitable collapse of the pureblood ideology. She saw that man on the ground and knew she needed to help him. Though she knew he wasn’t a part of the 28 because she didn’t recognize him, he was worth it to her.

After saving him, she grew to know this man, Alexander Clearwater. Alexander and Deirdre would often meet during the days in small muggle pubs while Cessair was attending meetings at the Ministry. Their close friendship quickly grew into something more before Deirdre abruptly broke it off without explanation. Soon after, word got out that the Parkinson’s were expecting. The wizarding community was filled with buzz at the news. Mr. Parkinson played a large political role in the Wizarding World, being the Ministers consultant of Goblin-Wizard relations. This meant spending time in both the Ministry and Gringotts. The possibility of a son to continue on Mr. Parkinson’s work gripped the people with excitement. Nine months later came the announcement of their first (and only) child, Pansy. The public was bewildered but not at all concerned, expecting the couple to continue having children which meant a Parkinson son was just around the corner. No one was quite as disappointed as Cessair, who blamed Deirdre for the ‘mistake’ that was Pansy Parkinson. However, nothing on this earth could make Deirdre love the ‘miracle’ that was Pansy Parkinson any less.

Throughout her life, Pansy always seemed to hear her parents fighting. More often than not it was about appearances. “How would that look to the public, Deirdre!?” was a common line that echoed through the halls of Parkinson Place. Pansy came from a long line of Ravenclaws, meaning she was never one to think inside the box and she was constantly devouring information. Eavesdropping was one of her many hobbies because she learned quickly that everything worth hearing wouldn’t be screamed, it would be whispered. This habit of hers backfired rather quickly when she discovered at the age of 7 that she was tainted. Parkinson blood did not run through her veins. She was going to be the collapse of their family. At least that’s what her father said. He threatened Deirdre that night while young Pansy was listening. He said he would kill her, make it look like an accident. Pansy learned that night that conforming was her only option and that this world was the cruelest of all worlds.

Pansy spent her life fighting her every nature. As a child, she was constantly curious, often causing a ruckus on her wild quests to figure things out. She learned quickly that her father didn’t like ruckuses. He also didn’t like untidy rooms, sticky fingers, unannounced hugs, or when Pansy spoke without being spoken to. So, she studied his every action, deciding she would be like him so she didn’t have to hear another screaming match about how she was going to cause suspicion with her dissimilar behavior. What started as a face Pansy put on every day in an attempt to keep her family intact, became a rather dreadful reality. By age 11, Pansy was cold. She was bitter and mean and ready to take on the world with her bare hands.

Over Christmas break during her first year of Hogwarts, Pansy saw her father smile for the first time. It was more of a smug smirk, but in Pansy’s mind, it counted. It was when she arrived back home, in her Slytherin robes. Ambition was the trademark Slytherin trait, one that Pansy now shared with Cessair. It was but a year or so before Pansy really started to hate what she had become. She had built this wall around her true self that no one could get through. That was the person she really wanted to be. And the only one who ever saw that was her mother. So, she spent her time at Hogwarts with her guard up, overcompensating for her lack of pure blood by spitting venom at anyone who fell “below her”. It was the only way she could convince everyone she was who she said she was.

Deirdre was admitted to St.Mungo’s during the summer between Pansy’s 4th and 5th year with a case of dragon pox. The case presented itself as mild and curable at first but quickly got out of hand, causing Deirdre’s death on July 31st of that year. Pansy was filled with a hallowing emptiness following her mothers' death. In an attempt to feel anything again, Pansy rebelled. She flirted with anyone and everyone, often after many shots of firewhiskey. She wasn’t afraid to let people know that she slept around in hopes that it would absolutely destroy her father’s reputation.

During 6th year, Pansy saw what happened to Slytherin’s who made all the wrong decisions. Her best friend Draco walked a dangerously fine line and ended up tumbling right down the wrong path. Over time she slowly opened up to him, seeing similarities in their self-destructive ways and deciding to trust him. However, once he was knee deep in Dark Lord business, she didn’t see much of him. She didn’t want to end up like that, but she saw no other choice. She couldn’t let herself become vulnerable. Besides, she was the stone-cold bitch of Hogwarts. If she didn’t keep the order, who would?

So, Pansy continued her ways. She was vile and mean, she was a certified heartbreaker, and she absolutely hated herself, inside and out. On days when the self-loathing really got bad, she would go to the Black Lake. Her mother would always tell her stories of her time at Hogwarts, all of them usually centering around the Lake. Deirdre was particularly fond of the water and it was one of the only things Pansy had left to hold onto.

During the Battle in their 7th year, the worst of Pansy came out, causing all of Slytherin to be escorted to the dungeons. Being Slytherins, they of course escaped. Most of them left, fleeing to their homes but some stayed to fight. Pansy was never one to turn down a fight but she couldn’t stand looking her best friend in the eye and having to choose between what she knew was wrong and a place where she never really fit in any way. Both options seemed awful so she took the tunnels out with the other students, arriving in Hogsmeade before apparating home. She walked into her father’s study without knocking, something he always hated.

“Pansy. It was smart of you to come home, leave the fighting to those with stupid bravery in their hearts. Natural selection, if you ask me. Besides, it's not your battle to fight.” Cessair said, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. Pansy couldn’t stand when he didn’t give her the time of day, speaking down to her as if she was an afterthought. Her jaw clenched, muscles twitching as something in her snapped.

“You’re right. That’s not my battle to fight. This is.” She said. The words sparked some sort of interest in Cessair as he looked up at Pansy just in time to see a glimmer of rage in her eyes. That same ferocity she unknowingly shared with her mother. 17 years of her life led to this moment of redemption. For Deirdre. For Alexander. For herself. Hogwarts was not the only source of smoke that night as the Parkinson residence went up in flames with the flick of Pansy’s wand. “I hope you burn!” Pansy screamed before she apparated away.

Cessair, in fact, did not burn. However, his house did. Along with his reputation and any hope of continuing the pure Parkinson line. Pansy went back for another year at Hogwarts and did her best at being less of a stone-cold bitch. She ended up meeting Alexander Clearwater, her biological father at an event for survivors of the war. He apparently fought valiantly alongside the Order of the Phoenix. Pansy thought he was exactly the kind of person her mother would love and got to know him well over the years.

((Okay so like, this is choppy and thrown together from the bits and pieces of ideas I have floating around in my brain. If it is confusing, I apologize, it’s probably confusing to me too. But it is what it is.))

I am tagging @rainbowsandsilverlinings to do any of the characters that you’ve done. Cause I love them all.

Also, whoever would like to do it!

#Pansy parkinson #pansy #trigger warning #tw: abuse #tw: swearing #hp rp #headcanon

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nighttimekpop · 7 years

Text

Royal Love(Prince!Jimin x Maid!Reader) Chapter 5 (Finale) BTS Prince/Royal AU

BTS Prince/Royal AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Taehyung and Jimin get into a fight and everyone gets what they deserve.

"Y/N?! Wait, wait what are you doing here?? Who the hell put you here and why were you tied up?"

Jimin was completely overwhelmed with his current situation. Why were you locked inside a tiny empty room in his brother's closet? Why were you hugging him after the both of you had a huge fight not even a night ago? Why were you even anywhere near the castle in the first place? You were supposed to have left the castle forever!

Then it hit him.

"Was it Taehyung again?! It was, wasn't it?" he asked.

You were about to reply just as Taehyung kicked the door open while keeping his poised and condescending expression on his face. Jungkook followed behind.

"You BET it was!" shouted a slightly disheveled-looking Taehyung.

There was an eerie look in his eyes.

"Jimin what are we going to do??" you asked frantically.

But you could see by the look on his face that even he didn't have a solution. You were both trapped.

"Well if it isn't the troublesome twosome who keep making this so difficult for me."

His words were so twisted it was disgraceful. Them? Making things difficult for him?? Seriously? If anything he had made the two of you miserable. But of course being the cruel prince he was, he could care less about your feelings.

"What the hell are you talking about? Do you know how awful you've been to y/n? You're literally keeping her a prisoner in your own bedroom, how revolting is that?", Jimin said as he grew angrier by the minute.

He marched up to Taehyung.

"What are you going to do if I let the entire kingdom know what a dog you are?"

The younger prince looked him directly in the eyes,

"Nothing, because they'll never know."

He quickly shifted his gaze to Jungkook and before you knew it, he was almost strangling you and holding a sword to your neck. He had crept up behind the both of you while Taehyung and Jimin were yelling.

Jimins' eyes grew wide as his rage got the best of his composure. He grabbed Taehyung by the collar and glared at him with a face ready to fight.

"Tell Jungkook to let her go. NOW."

"But what would be the fun in that, imbecile." Tae replied as he threw his head back and faced Jimin with that same devilish smirk he loved to give when he was getting what he wanted.

"Taehyung I don't even know why you're doing this. I don't know why you keep bothering y/n and I. She hasn't done anything to you, and I have no idea what I've done to you. Just let her go."

Taehyung looked at Jungkook again and signaled to him to tighten his grip around your neck. His giant muscular arms left you with barely any room to breath and you gasped along with the pressure.

Jimin reacted by drawing his sword.

"Your sword won't do you any good here." Taehyung remarked.

Ignoring him, Jimin began to swing his sword. Before he could land a single blow, Taehyung dodged him and met Jimin with his own sword. "Jimin have you forgotten that I was always better at sword fighting than you?"

Jimin swung again this time aiming slightly higher with the hopes of at least elbowing Taehyung to temporarily wound him. He wasn't brutal enough of a person to want to badly hurt one of his brothers. Unfortunately for him, Taehyung didn't give a crap about what happened to his brother. He blocked Jimins blow with his sword and then landed a mild blow on his arm, cutting open the fabric of his sleeve. His skin burned. Jimin hissed as his dominant arm felt like it was on fire. Nevertheless he tried again, this time completely missing his brother.

Taehyung used this opportunity to rile Jimin up a bit more by aiming at you. He lunged and aimed the blade at your face. At first you didn't feel much because you were still processing what just happened.You looked up at Jimin as you felt your browbone sting, slowly turning into a sharp burn. Something wet began to trickle down the side of your face. As you began to wipe it off you looked at your hand to see it covered in red.

Jimin couldn't take it anymore. Your injury wasn't fatal and would probably just leave a scar, but he couldn't have cared less about whether you had gotten a papercut or had broken a limb. The point was, someone had hurt you and he was not about to let them get again with it. He swung one of his legs underneath Taehyungs and managed to trip him causing him to fall onto his side. When the other prince pushed his body up, he had a giant scab on the side of his head. Blood dripped out of his scalp as he slowly stood back up.

"You imbecile! Do you really think you'll win by fighting me? Or did you forget that your precious maid is about to be choked to death?" he yelled as he sent glare look towards Jungkook.

Within seconds you were gasping for air yet again.

The two brothers continued their battle as the sound of metal continued for what felt like forever.

It couldn't end like this. You had to think of a way to fix this, and fast. You glanced at your surroundings for anything that might help. The first step would need to be to get away from Jungkook. You endured his hold on you for just a bit longer until he was off guard. The second you felt his grasp slightly loosen, you pushed yourself backwards into his chest and bit down into his hands as hard as you possibly could. He fell down hard, you could hear him yelling in pain from behind you.

Taehyung had bruised up Jimin quite badly, but he was still holding his own until now. He wouldn’t last much longer, you could see it on his yface. His clothes were torn and his hands were a mess of dark pink and red. Taehyung had a few tiny cuts but otherwise, he was perfectly fine minus the blow he had gotten to his head earlier.Thankfully Taehyung was so caught up in fighting that he didn’t notice you were out of Jungkook’s grasp. Without a moment to waste, you grabbed Jungkook’s sword while he was on the floor cursing over the nasty bite you gave him. You ran over to where the two were fighting and with one swing, you managed to wedge your sword right between theirs.

“Y/N what are you doing?! Get out of here and save yourself!” Jimin begged.

“Jimin I’m not going anywhere, I’m going to save the both of us.” you replied.

“Hah, how adorable of you Miss Y/N!” Taehyung laughed.

You gave Taehyung a quick smirk as you gathered all of your strength and swung your sword upwards. Both the princes blades to flew into the air and fell down with a metal thud. Taehyung tried to run to grab his weapon but you were faster and managed to get between him before he got there. This time, it was you who was pointing a sword at his throat.

"Prince Taehyung, I don't understand what you have against me and Jimin together. I don't know if it's because you're jealous, or lonely or bored or WHATEVER, but neither of us have done anything to deserve this treatment from you."

His eyes looked like they were about to pierce through your head from the intense way he was staring at you. He smiled the way he did back when he was hovering over you on the floor. It gave you shivers but you didn't dare show that he made you nervous even then.

"And what are you going to do about it Miss Y/N? "

It was horrible how even with a blade threatening to hurt him, he kept taunting you without caring what happened.

"You're such a lost cause you're almost pitiful. Almost. You do realize I'm the difference between you living or dying right now right?"

"Miss Y/N you're kind of sexy when you get mad, has Jimin ever told you that?"

Absolutely. Pitiful.

But you managed to hold in your anger long enough to hear Jimin (who had run after the sword fight to fetch the royal guards) coming up the stairs.

"Arrest him!" he shouted.

They handcuffed him and walked him out of the room. He mockingly blew a kiss at you just as he was leaving, trying to get the most reaction he could out of you before leaving. You didn't move a muscle.

"Y/N you were amazing! I didn't know you had sword skills like that!"

"I've never usedI would've done anything to save you Jimin, you've already done so much for me."

"I don't deserve anything from you Y/N. Not after what happened."

With everything that had gone on, you completely forgot about the chaos that happened at the ball not too long ago.

"Jimin I should've been more careful."

"No, you couldn't have known better. I was a jerk for not trusting you and then making a scene about it on top of it. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?", he looked at you once again with tears in his eyes.

"Of course I'll forgive you Jimin, I love you and only you."

"That's good to hear..." he said with a whisper before he collapsed to the ground.

"Jimin...Jimin!!?"

Jimin woke up to see you staring back at him in concern. He look around and saw that somehow he was back in his room.

"Hey Y/N." he said with a tired voice.

You smiled at him.

"Hey Jimin, you feeling ok?" you asked trying not to sound too happy so as to make sure he stayed calm in bed.

"Yeah...yeah I'm feeling fine but what happened? How am I back here?"

"Oh you passed out because you were still bleeding from that awful wound Taehyung gave to you."

"And you brought me all the way back here?"

"Yup!"

"Wow Y/N, you really are incredible. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you. I must be the luckiest guy in the world. I mean how many people can say that they have a girlfriend who can clean an entire castle, take care of her boyfriend, use a sword, and look incredibly beautiful while doing it all?" he laughed.

"Not too many I suppose" you replied as you kissed him gently on the cheek.

A few weeks later...

Taehyung was banished from the castle for trying to commit murder to a member of the royal family (ironic as it sounds).

Jungkook was sentenced to a few long years in prison for being his accomplice.

The king and queen recognized you for you bravery and for saving a Prince and granted you the gift of being able to have any one thing from the castle as reward. You asked for permission to be in a romantic relationship with Jimin.

After lots of thought, they finally granted you your wish.

You ran to Jimin's room and told him the good news.

"Jimin this is wonderful! We don't have to be a secret anymore!" you cried with joy.

"It's all thanks to you Y/N!" he said as he ran towards you and picked you up to hug you as hard as he could.

You could hear his heartbeat and the warmth of him against you.

As soon as he put you back down you stood on your toes and kissed him on the lips with so much passion it rang through both of your bodies like an electric shock.

Your kiss turned into much more longer, intense kisses.

You put your arms around Jimin's neck and he put his hands (at least, the one that wasn't injured) on your waist pulling you closer.

His mouth traveled from your mouth to your neck. You grabbed onto him tighter, feeling the excitement growing between the both of you.

He stopped and looked at you with the beautiful pleading puppy eyes he knew you couldn't ever resist.

"Hey Y/N? I know you're not my maid anymore and all that, but uhh..." he grinned with embarrassment knowing how awkward the question must be now,

"Do you think you could undo my buttons for me?"

You rolled your eyes sarcastically at his request.

He laughed,

"I'm serious this time Y/N! One of my arms is injured, I actually can't do any of this stuff without help until it heals!"

You laughed back, he was too adorable to not help.

"Anything for you Your Majesty~" you cooed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, kissed him on the forehead, and got right to work.

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haikyuulovercompany · 7 years

Note

The song "Hearts don't break around here" by ed sheeran for the song fic request with Oikawa please, Thank you!

Okay, so here due to the song I wanted to explore this personal headcanon I have of Oikawa about him being a truly hopeless romantic, who is actually really clumsy when it comes to him falling in love. Sooo, I hope you like it, and I hope I didn’t mess too much with his character.

——

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here - Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa Toorusupposedly had the world on his feet. He was a young good-looking guy, with agood brain and good manners. The world would never deny him anything. That wassome of the usual words his parents and relatives always threw at him. He couldbehave in many negative forms but to his family his virtues exceeded his vices.

At some pointhe truly believed he was the owner of a path that lead to infinite treasures.He deserved nothing but gold, especially because he had worked his way to it.But the truth is that life sometimes is unfair for no good reason. Or at leastno reason is good enough to heal the soul once things go wrong.

He had workedso hard to avoid failure that he had forgotten to have a personal life. He hadno time for any other commitment than his own professional career. His highschool career had ended without him getting where he was supposed to be, but ashe had told Iwaizumi once… he had no time to feel sorry for himself. Collegestill awaited him with a spot in the court.

And he didwhat he had done through almost his whole life. He focused on his grades and involleyball. So when he crashed into her one Thursday morning on his way toclass, he never believed that his personal life would take the spotlight. Assoon as he saw her worried face, and the way her cheeks flushed while she askedhim a thousand times if he was okay, he knew what he was feeling.

She excusedherself, and disappeared in the crowd of the campus. He was beyond sure that hehad never been so love struck as that day.

She is the sweetest thing that I knowYou should see the way she holds me when the lights go lowShakes my soul like a pot hole every time

Oikawa hadalways enjoyed the attention of the female population. It was more than obviousthat not every lady around him fell at his feet, but a fair share did. In highschool, since he had no time for any type of romantic antics, he made sure tofill his need for love with the girls who followed him around. He always kepthis distance, to the point of even acting a tad shy and oblivious, with thepurpose of keeping those girls at bay. To have them at the bleachers cheeringfor him, and occasionally accepting their gifts was enough. He had never feltan urge of something more.

He had turnedlove to a strange concept. He was never that interested, and he concluded hewasn’t in love at all. Maybe after too many disappointments he was afraid offacing something he couldn’t control. Love was that for him… an unknownconcept.

However,Oikawa still was surprised of himself when he approached her and stuttered ashe tried to talk to her. His tone usually possessed smoothness, but throughouthis whole speech he couldn’t keep his words straight. He fumbled, andreiterated making a mess of the conversation. By the end he was so embarrassedof the act he had put up in front of her, he hadn’t had the courage to ask forher name, less for her number.

Weeks went bywith him unable to get over his own awkwardness. He always came out as charmingwith exorbitant confidence. He had ruined his chance with the prettiest girl hehad ever met.

What hedidn’t know then was that life was going to relent. Midterms arrived, and asrandom as their first encounter, a hot cup of tea appeared in front of him.

It was lateinto the night and he was still trapped in the campus library when it happened.Oikawa raised his eyes confused only to find her sweet face watching him. Healmost went into cardiac arrest.

“I didn’tknow if you’re into coffee so I brought you some tea,” she said taking a seatnext to him with her own mug. He stared at her in awe. Maybe he was dreaming,maybe he was so exhausted for the countless hours studying that he was alreadyhallucinating. She dropped her bag from her shoulder with a relief expression,and began to take out her own notebooks. She must have felt his impressed eyespiercing on her because she looked at him. She didn’t ask what on earth wasgoing on with him, she only smiled and continued. “I’m ______,” she finallysaid.

Oikawaswallowed hard. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

Took my heart upon a one-way tripGuess she went wandering off with it. Unlike most women I knowThis one will bring it back whole

Warming up tosomeone had never been that easy for him. He usually stayed with his walls up,isolated in his own obsessive behaviors, but with her an urge to open upemerged on him. He wanted to tell her where he came from and where he wanted togo. Who he was and who he wanted to be. He needed more time with her. Thescarce hours he got to spend with her between brakes felt like seconds. Andquick greetings on the hallways of the campus were like torture. It would leavehim yearning, and he felt like following her just to have five, ten, fifteenmore minutes by her side.

On one randomevening, he couldn’t help it anymore. He blurted out what he had been trying toask since the day he first saw her. He asked her on a date with the clumsiestcombination of words that had ever come out of his mouth. He stared at her withhis mouth in a tight, nervous line and an evident blush on his cheeks. Thereddening of his face was due to yet again his pathetic and brand new way ofcommunicating rather than the question itself.

She answered inan opposite fashion. A simple yes accompanied with a cheerful smile. Oikawatried to not let himself go too fat too soon, but he right away thought thather smile maybe was because she had been waiting for him to ask her out.

It was untiltheir first official date that he started to comprehend why people chased loveso desperately, why the ninety percent of songs written over the course of timetalked about it. He now could be catalogue alongside the rest of the fools thatmore than believe in a forever, they wanted a one. As she talked about the lifewhere he didn’t exist, he felt like fighting for a forever with her.

Date after dateOikawa discovered a bit more about her, and the more he discovered about her,the more crazy about her he was. He had never thought such a strong feelingcould ever exist. He had never thought that something as simple as taking agirl by the hand could be an exhilarating experience. His pulse rose with thesimple touch. What he had found inside of him was grater than love, was greaterand stronger than a regular infatuation.

For the firsttime he could say he was absolutely sure that he was in love.

Spent my summer time beside herAnd the rest of the year the sameShe is the flint that sparks the lighter And the fuel that will hold the flame

Was it even normal? Oikawa askedhimself months after. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that eventually all thingsfell into a routine. Your body and your mind get used to every little thingafter a certain amount of time. This was not the case.

He stillmarveled upon her face at every waking moment, he still got chills running downhis spine every time he deepened a kiss. He was still conscious about his ownbody and the way his breathing rhythm changed until it synchronized with hers.Every touch still thunderstruck him.

Months couldstill pass and Oikawa was sure he would be just as in love with her, if noteven more.

Well I found love in the insideThe arms of a woman I knowShe is the lighthouse in the night

that will safely guide me home

One of themost gratifying moments of his daily life was when he saw her on the bleacherswatching him play. He knew she would never miss one match. He would turn to thebleachers looking for her beautiful face, and she would be there resting herarms on the edge watching him proudly. Suddenly scoring a point meant more tohim than just proving who was the strongest in the court.

She was notonly a muse, or an inspiration, but also a shelter from when things turnagainst him. He still had his own trials, obstacles he had to surpass.Frustration and fear could conquer him from time to time. A confident smilecould hide the true, but not be louder than the monster inside. And then shewould hug him softly and tightly at the same time, a unique gesture. He wouldrest his head on her chest and hear her heartbeat as she stroke his hairtelling him all the reasons why everything was going to be better.

She offeredhim a better future through her hands, and he believed her. He wanted to bebetter for her, and with her. Once the darkest hours were over, he would cupher face on his hands and be sure to thank her before kissing her gently and repeatedlyuntil it was clear enough how much he needed her. Her voice subdue his demons,her only presence was enough to ease him down. She was a work of magic and henever wanted to be stopped being impressed.

Every night I’ll kiss you you’ll say inmy earOh we’re in love aren’t we?Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs, baby

She had comeinto his life with a crash, she had appeared abruptly and taken his heart withher that day. She laughed when he was childish, and played along with his fewodd antics. She had become a sturdy pillar for him, and he felt overwhelmed andproud. He was so proud of the way she balanced bravery and gentleness. Noamounts of tears were enough to strip her happiness away.

She who stoodbeside him.

She who hadcome to stay.

She who madehim immensely happy.

She who takecare of him.

She who wassimply his beginning and his end.

And theywould keep each other safe. Through the storms, through the night, throughwhatever low life put them through, they would never let go.

Love had been irrelevant for him until she was there. Now love was the path he wanted to follow.

You know, hearts don’t break around here

——

#oikawa tooru #oikawa #1500 followers #haikyuu song fic #songfic #scenario #scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! scenarios

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freereignastarwarsstory · 7 years

Text

Prologue: Run

Disclaimer: I (@draksisreborn) own nothing but my OCs. Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm and Disney. Many thanks to my fellow writer @zazabelle, who has been amazing as always and who also did the cover art and character designs for this project. Please review and critique this tribute to the characters of SW who are never spoken of, the ones who only wish to survive.

Rating: T (sci-fi violence and language)

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. - Albert Camus

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The fire, the smoke, the agony.

I couldn’t breath.

I couldn’t think.

I didn’t want to anymore.

The closet door had caved in on me during impact, I couldn’t tell if my vision had gone dark or if I was being smothered to death. There was blood coming out of me somewhere I could feel it. Gashes, bruises, blood, I didn’t want to move. My lips tried to open, they tried to make a sound come out of me, but nothing worked.

What do I do… What could I have done?

Suddenly, I felt something tug at me. Pulling at my heartstrings.

My guide was still with me.

My mind snapped back into place.

My guide! My guide please help me! My thoughts screamed in panic as the fog in my mind began to clear and the smoke in the room thickened.

I began to wiggle under the weight of the door as I tried to pull myself free.

I saw the fire rise in the hull of the ship, and with that I found my voice.

“Please! You told me this was going to happen! I tried to warn them! Why didn’t they listen!? Why won’t you help me!” I screamed as tears ran down my face with the taste of soot gathering around my lips.

I built up pressure in my head to try and speak with the guide. Everything in the room began to become connected in my head. I felt everything. The rapid vibration of the fire. The energy draining from the ship’s hull and the draining of… no.

“NO PLEASE! MOMMY HELP ME! SOMEONE!”

I screamed for my mommy, I felt her. Her energy draining with the ship. I felt my family. All of them. Dwindling.

I screamed as the pressure in my head was released.

The door fell away.

The guide desperately pulled at me.

The path was clear, there was somewhere else I needed to be. But I didn’t want to go. There had to be something I could do with all this power, with all this rage. I could stop their energy from draining. I could stop their death.

I ran from the path. I ran to my mom. My seven year old legs propelling me on through our burning ship.

The guide still telling me where to go. But this felt different, it felt… wrong. Nonetheless, there she was, shrapnel piercing her skin all over. Her blood spilling out.

“MOMMY!” I ran to her side, her eyes barely focusing.

Her head lolled to her side as she turned to look at me.

“Vis… Go… Please…” she whispered above the sound of my crying.

“I won’t leave you! I can fix this! There has to be another way!” I built up the pressure in my head and placed my hand of her as I tried to make the guide fix this.

She took my hand and she took a breath.

“Vis… I feel it now. All those times you tried to explain it to me. The connection to everything. I. Can. Feel. It.” Her breath labored, “The guide you talk so much about. Your path does not lay here with me. Your connection, I… we, will never leave you. Your guide connects us. Follow it’s path. You can see it. I know you can… Find what you’re looking for. I. Love… you…”

Her energy left.

It was gone.

And yet, the guide was still there, so quiet amongst the raging flames, but it was there. The path was clear. The future uncertain. And all I could think about was my mommy laying in the crashed ship that was my home, now burning on a planet I didn’t know.

I stood, the guide almost pulling me along by my empty hand as I walked numbly through the smoke filled ship. It took my hand, I would grab an object, and this continued as I shuffled past the bodies of my adoptive scavenger family. I couldn’t make the connection cut off, it was the only thing making me walk, but their pain swelled over my body and it was a silently awful relief when I felt their energy slip through my fingers and meld into the guide’s path. I was being puppeted, and I felt the familiar pressure in my head trying to snap me back to thinking.

“Please. Just, keep telling me what to do.” I choked out as I looked at the trinkets the guide had told me to pick up, one of my tears falling and rolling off the smooth river stone my mother loved so much.

The guide flowed on, directing each one of my hollow legs towards the bundle of cloth lying on the ground. The scavenger captain’s green trench coat. My chest sputtered as I became wracked with tears. I picked it up and hugged the favorite thing of the man that had helped raise me. I felt his bravery in the cloth. It flowed into me as I continued to let the guide push me down the singeing walls of the hallways, down the breaking stairways, and out through a hole on the ship’s hull.

I watched as my feet walked through the moist dirt of the dense forest that surrounded the broken ship. I looked down at the trench coat in my arms, as tears kept streaming down my face mingling with the blood running out of my nose, I slipped it on.

In my hand still, I looked at the trinkets of the family who had loved me, the family who had taught me to keep looking for all the paths I could take to find what I was looking for, the family that accidentally introduced me to the guide, the guide that always showed me the way.

I wanted to look back… but there was a new path. I sensed something hiding in the forest. A place I would grow to love. A place I would grow to protect and avenge for the family I couldn’t say the same for.

“Where are we going?” I asked as the guide kept pulling me on.

And for the first time, it answered.

Home.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“The vault is sealed captain. The goods are likely still intact.” A robotic voice calls out from across the derelict transport ship.

The old CIS droid, a BX series commando droid, crouched at one of the many sealed doors, its connector plugged into the one of the ship’s control boards as it scans for the contents of each room. The droid looks over at his organic partners, it’s chassis is worn from age but still durable, with a line of fresh white paint down its face and a white eagle emblazoned on its chest. He beckons the two over.

“Lerti, pass BX-19 the breach charge.” The voice commanded from behind the sealed faceplate of his spacesuit.

“On it captain.” A third voice responded.

The Mandalorian female of the two, clad in red and dull white armor, hands the explosive to the droid, who applies it to the sealed door of the cargo vault before walking off a few feet and hitting the detonator without warning.

The captain and Lerti jump back in surprise, their arms shielding their faceplates.

The charge creates a small explosion, shattering the handle, allowing BX-19 to pull open the vault door and inspect its contents. Five light brown cargo containers, left by the ship’s former occupants as they fled towards the escape pods.

“A little more warning next time BX?” Lerti asks curtly as they approach the broken door.

“Might I remind you that we need to move fast? What we are doing is not legal, and I didn’t realize I needed to be your babysitter.” The droid retorted, obviously mimicking the sarcastic voice of another crew member.

“Okay, we got the goods. Now let’s load them up and get out off this wreck.” The captain ordered through his communications device as he grabbed the first crate, his two companions following suit.

Silence went through the comm.

“Cholmon! Are you listening!?” The captain nearly yelled into the comm.

“Ya sorry! Roger that captain.” The pilot, a Mon Calamari, responded over the comm before going back to lazily tracing the edge of the control panel in the cockpit of his Simiyiar-class ship.

He could spend hours tracing the delicate, ornate curves of the Raving Titan, lost in the beauty of its design. He listened over the comm as his crew began loading up the cargo, only half paying attention to the empty space around him decked in escape pods while the transport ship sparked.

Suddenly he was startled out of his daydreaming by a soft beeping sound, sending a shiver down his spine as he hoped against hope that it wasn’t what he thought. Quickly knocking several items off the panel he examined the radar system, a stream of curses rolling off his tongue in Mon Cal.

“Soron we have a major problem. Imperial Star Destroyer incoming.”

“Have they scanned us yet!?” The captain growled over the comms.

“I don’t know, no way I can tell from here.”

“Alright shut it down. Everything but air systems. BX, Lerti, double time it now!” He commanded as he increased his pace as much as he could, the other two following suit.

Back on the ship, the pilot began struggling to shut everything off.

“Nek! Get up here now!” The pilot yelled over his shoulder.

Thirty-seconds later a relatively short Devaronian sprinted through the door, panting slightly.

“What is it you need Cholmon?” The devilish-looking alien panted.

“Get your red behind down to the engine room, shut down everything!” Cholmon shouted, clearly not in the mood.

“On it, no need for such nastiness.” Nek replied before sprinting out of the room.

“Talk to me Chol, how's it looking up there?” Soron asked as he approached the cargo door.

“I can’t tell captain, they seem to be ignoring us.” Immediately the radar system began to beep rapidly.

“Nevermind, they just deployed TIEs. ETA 3 minutes.” Chol groaned.

“Everyone in now.” Soron commanded as the other two passed by him onto the ship with the goods, the door closing behind them. He quickly took his helmet off, revealing his black furred Shistavanen appearance with glowing yellow eyes.

“Lerti, man the left turret, I’ll get on the right. BX, get to the cockpit and be ready to have Chol use the ion cannon.” He then took off on a dead sprint towards the cannon. Sliding into the seat and putting on the headset he quickly contacted Nek over the backup comms. “Nek power the engine back up, we’ll be cutting this one close. And make sure the ion cannon is prepped.”

“On it boss.” Came the reply.

The sleek ship powered back up, accompanied with a pleased grunt from its pilot, and pulled away from the derelict ship, turning to face the incoming swarm of TIE fighters. Chol turned the Titan to face the swarm, turrets already working to eliminate a few fighters.

“Any day now BX.” He growled, itching to fire the ion cannon.

“Wait for it.” The droid responded.

“They’re closing in, I have to fire now!” The pilot panicked, seeming to forget the cool down time of the cannon and his finger hovering over the trigger. “They’re almost on top of us!”

“Wait.” BX continued, voice never losing its monotone quality. He clenched the back of Chol’s seat, running through a million calculations at once, they couldn’t afford to miss this shot.

The TIEs sped closer.

They started to fire.

“Now!” The droid shouted as the last fighter came into critical range.

The pilot blasted the cannon.

Like watching a lightning show, the chain reaction in the blast disabled most of the TIEs immediately and forced the rest to scatter. By the time the rest of the fighters had regrouped the ship had already escaped to hyperspace.

Soron sighed as he collapsed into the gunner’s seat, hearing the victory cheers from the Mandalorian across the hall.

Yeah, He sighed mentally, we won. For now…

The captain reached for the comms.

“Alright crew, let’s take a look at this cargo that apparently ‘the Empire doesn’t care about at all.’” Soron said sarcastically as he started for the cargo hold. “I swear when we see Dordo I’m going to ask him for his definition of an easy job.”

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Link to character designs: https://zazabelle.tumblr.com/post/163154250430/hello-everyone-over-the-course-of-this-summer-me

#Free Reign: A Star Wars Story #zazabelle #draksisreborn #Star Wars fanfiction #collaborative writing projects #character design

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