#so the word ���hugs” in asterisks will have to do

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

cuddling all my mutuals rn

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Gift

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Period typical sexism and treatment of women, period-typical ideas of virginity and virtue, Marcus is a bit rude at first but he comes around quickly, attempted assault that is heavily implied to be sexual, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, wound care, yearning, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, mushy endings :)

Summary: The Emperor of Rome has given his most valued General, Marcus Acacius, a generous gift after his recent successful battle. Rather than the gold he’s hoping for, Marcus is stunned when a young virgin is delivered to his chambers. At first, he refuses to entertain the idea of stealing the virtue of a scared girl, but their lives become entwined when he learns that refusing his ‘gift’ puts her in even more danger…

A/N: The art in the header is by @norththelemon and is inspired by Paulo and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati. Thank you so much for letting me use this artwork for my fic!!! <3 The artwork does not necessarily reflect the appearance of the reader character; rather, it is a reflection of the original artwork. The only physical description I included of reader is that she has long, curly hair (color and texture are never mentioned). Marcus’s pet name for her, bellatora, very loosely translates to “little warrior.” Thank you to the lovely @leslie-lyman for the beta! **NOTE: as attempted SA can be triggering to some people, I have separated out this section with asterisks (******). You can quickly skip this scene and you will not miss any significant plot. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to send me a DM! Be safe <3

Masterlist

Marcus rides through the streets of Rome, the cheers of citizens ringing in his ears and the white petals being thrown from above him sticking in his curls. The populus is joyful, but he cannot help but think of the cost of the battle, about the sons and husbands who he knows are not returning home.

He longs for a bath, to wash the grime, dirt and blood from his body. He longs to strip off the heavy, soiled armor and lay down on his bed, naked and warm and full of bread and wine, and sleep for several days.

First, however, he must endure the long procession up to the palace, where the Emperor was surely waiting for him–where he would have to play all the little games that come with positions of power: smile, nod, say the right words and act in the ways that other people expect of a General.

The horse whinnies nervously as the cacophony swells, and Marcus gently pats its neck, sending a cascade of petals to the ground to be trodden underfoot by so many hooves.

The Emperor waits at the top of the Palace steps, surrounded by all of his court and Roman nobility. Without allowing any of the contempt he feels to show on his face, Marcus Acacius dismounts from the horse and slowly ascends the marble stairs. When he reaches the top, the Emperor pulls him into an exaggerated hug, slapping his back and cheering loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.

“Congratulations to you, my friend, for your triumph and victory over the vanquished,” the man booms, slapping Marcus's pauldron again for good measure and causing another great cheer to rise up from the crowd.

Marcus does not say anything, but he turns to face the onlookers and unsheathes his sword, raising it over his head victoriously, knowing that's what they all want him to do. The resulting din seems to rattle the very stones of the palace.

“You must be weary, good soldier,” the Emperor tells him. “Go now and rest. A gift will be sent to your chambers to show your Emperor’s appreciation for your prowess in battle.”

Marcus nods and bows deeply, indicating his gratitude for his Lord's generosity. He's most thankful, however, for the quick dismissal.

The General’s quarters in the palace are spacious and outfitted with all modern amenities Marcus could ever think to ask for. He quickly lights a fire under the basin to begin heating water for a bath. He begins removing his armor, leaving it by the door where he knows it will be collected for cleaning and polishing. He discards the filthy underclothing and retrieves a clean cloth with which to wash.

It is only now that Marcus is able to take sock tock of his injuries; as the grime is wiped clean from his body, he can finally see where the blood was his, and where the blood was not his. His arms are peppered with bruises and superficial wounds, but nothing that requires any dressing. 

He is lucky. 

Marcus dresses in loose robes, luxuriating in the feeling of being free and unencumbered by his armor. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he settles himself down on the bed, surrounded by the ornate pillows that come with Palace trappings, and closes his eyes.

They’ve barely been closed for a few minutes when a knock sounds at the door. 

Marcus frowns. All his joints and muscles protest when he reluctantly rises from the bed again and opens the door. He’s greeted by one of the Emperor’s personal guard, who is roughly holding the upper arm of a young girl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asks hesitantly, taking in the girl’s simple, white shift that clings to her breasts and hips, her trembling lips, and her wide, terrified eyes.

“The Emperor, in his generosity, presents you with this virgin as reward for your duty to Rome,” the guard announces. He pushes the girl forward into Marcus’s chambers and shuts the door behind him.  

“What in the Gods’...” the General murmurs under his breath as you are shoved unceremoniously into the room.

You curtsy deeply, remembering, despite your fear, what you have been instructed to do. “M-My Lord,” you whisper through trembling lips. You can only stare at the floor, unable to look at the man to whom you have been gifted.

“I had been hoping for gold,” the man grumbles. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He sounds angry. This terrifies you more.

“I am f-for your… p-pleasure,” you try to explain. “My Lord.” You deepen the curtsy, until your knees nearly scrape the floor. If you please him, perhaps he will not be unkind.

“Stop that. Get up.” the man snaps. “I’m not in the mood for deflowering virgins.”

“S-Sir?” You don’t understand. You weren’t prepared for the man to say no. You were bathed, dressed, and told that you were to be a gift for a mighty general. You were to please him, let him bed you, and serve him until he tired of you. You were instructed to kneel, to address him as only “My Lord,” and to do whatever he asked of you. Only then would the debt your father owed to the Emperor be paid in full. 

You were not given instructions on what to do if the General refused his gift.

“D-Do I not please My Lord?” you try again. Terrified of being turned away, sent back to your father, where they’d surely kill you both, you begin to cry.

“By the Gods–stop, come here,” the General says, sounding exasperated. He gently leads you to a chair and indicates you should sit. You do. He crouches on his heels so that your heads are level, and examines you. “Who are you, girl?”

“I… am the only daughter of Proculus Opilio,” you sniffle. “I am a gift for his Lord’s pleasure.”

The man’s fingers take hold of your chin; his hands are gentle as he guides your eyes up to his. “Why are you a gift,” he presses.

“M-My family owes a great debt,” you whisper. “I am to be payment for our transgressions against the Emperor.”

“The Emperor sends me a frightened child,” the man growls as he quickly stands and paces away from you, “and calls it a gift.”

“You must accept,” you say frantically, hopping up from your seat and following him. “They will know if you do not, and we will be punished for it.”

The general scoffs. “What, they intend on checking?” he asks, as if such a thing is too ridiculous to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” you whisper. They told you as such.

“Girl,” he says sternly. “I am not going to enact such violence on a scared child.”

“I am not a child,” you argue, sticking your chin up. “I have seen nineteen summers, almost twenty.”

The General seems to find this funny. He huffs, shaking his head and turning away. “Go home, girl.”

“I cannot go home,” you say, and start to cry again. 

“Stop. Stop,” the man entreats. He turns toward you again and cages your face in his hands, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Okay. Do not worry, I will… Gods, I will help. You and your family will come to no harm.”

“Thank you,” you say emphatically, your hands coming up to your shoulders in preparation to unclasp your shift.

“No! Stop!” You freeze again, eyes wide.

The General softens, and gentles his words. “Please stop. I am weary from battle and I need to sleep. Please… let us both rest, and after that we may discuss this with level heads.”

“Of course, My Lord,” you nod, curtsying again. 

“Marcus.”

“...My Lord?”

“Call me Marcus. I am no Lord.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” It comes out automatically.

The General–Marcus–raises one eyebrow.

“...Marcus.” You watch as the man pads over to the bed and collapses onto it with a heavy sigh. 

“You may sleep here, you may sleep elsewhere, it does not concern me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed. “I am not long for this world and will be unconscious for quite some time, I imagine.”

His words are correct; within a matter of minutes the man is snoring. 

Alone and scared, you sink back down into the chair, and begin to cry again.

Marcus wakes with something tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by a mass of curls on his pillow, framing the angelic face of… 

Oh.

He had forgotten about you. At some point, you had clearly decided to sleep as well, because you are curled up next to him, your hands clasped under your chin and your lips slightly parted in sleep. This is the first time he’s seen your face not terrified, and he realizes that you are really quite beautiful.

He does not know what to do with you. 

Marcus has never had a shortage of willing partners, and he is uninterested in the alternative. You are pretty, young, and soft, but he is not the sort of man to force himself on a woman. Even if you did ask him in no uncertain terms to do so, it would not be for the right reasons. 

He needs to find a way out of this situation, ideally with his life, your life, and the lives of your family still intact; he did not wade through the blood and mire of battlefield just to condemn an innocent woman to death.

“Girl,” he says lowly, and your eyes open quickly. They go wide at his proximity, and you scramble back a few inches, creating more space between you.

“H-Hello,” you greet him shakily. 

“Good morn,” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested, My Lo–Marcus.” You offer him a small, timid smile. 

Marcus glances toward the window. “It must be almost midday,” he says, noticing the angle of the sun. He’d fallen asleep yesterday in the late afternoon, slept all night, and through the morning. He hopes you did the same. 

“I am famished.” He gets up from the bed–Gods, his muscles still ache–and pads toward the door to his chambers. “With any luck, this morning’s breakfast will still be outside.” 

It feels like the only act of providence that has happened since his return to the Palace that the breakfast tray is still there, laden with fresh bread and fruit. He carries it inside and sets it on the small table in his chambers. He grabs a piece of bread with one hand and beckons you over with the other, too hungry to be polite and wait for you before tearing a piece off with his teeth. He finishes the bread in a few bites, but you still stand near the bed, unmoving and watching him with wary eyes.

“Come. Eat.” Marcus grabs another piece of bread and a handful of grapes. 

Hesitantly, you approach the table, looking like a wild animal unsure of whether the human offering you food can be trusted.

“I do not bite, girl,” he grumbles. 

You snatch a loaf off of the table and retreat backwards a couple of paces, breaking off small pieces and popping them into your mouth as you continue to stare at him. 

“What will you do with me?” you ask.

“Do with you?” Marcus laughs humorlessly. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, beginning to sound angry. Good. Marcus would rather you be anything but the timid, scared girl that was shoved into his chambers. “So you would condemn my family to death?”

“I am not going to take an unwilling woman to bed,” he growls, taking more grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth. 

“Most people would do far worse to save the life of a loved one,” you argue. 

Marcus scoffs. “I’ve seen and done things you could not imagine, girl. If losing your maidenhood is the worst thing you can conceive of–”

“It is not,” you snap, stamping your foot in a show of exasperated petulance. “If you are not going to help me, then… I—I hope the gods curse you!” you finish lamely. You spin on your heels and retreat to the corner of his room, sitting down on a chair and crossing your arms with a huff. 

Marcus closes his eyes. He is being too harsh with her, too cruel. He has spent too long shouting orders at his men of late, and not enough time offering comfort or kind words. He grimaces and approaches you with caution. You glare at him, and he doesn’t blame you, but he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you before speaking.

“I have been unkind,” he says softly. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

He watches as your pretty eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again as a number of emotions seem to flicker across your face. Your lips part, but you don’t respond, and Marcus forges on.

“I did not ask to be put in this situation, and neither did you. I made a promise to you last night that you and your family will come to no harm, but we must work together to keep you safe.”

“Would it not be easier to simply take your ‘gift’?” you sniffle, jutting your chin out and trying–unsuccessfully, he thinks to himself–to be brave.

Marcus chuckles softly, reaching forward and gently grasping both of your hands. “I have committed enough violence in the name of Emperor and Country to last a man several lifetimes. I may not have been as kind as I should have been to you, but I will not take the innocence of a scared girl who is being used as a pawn in the evil games of powerful men.”

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on the back of one hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just be free of this cursed ‘gift’ of innocence and lose all value to men like that.”

Marcus huffs in amusement. “Do you, now?”

You sigh, turning and looking out of the window. “How nice it would be to be valued for other qualities, instead,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to him. When you turn back to look at him, you ask, “How will you–we–subvert the wishes of the Emperor himself?”

Ah. He was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. Truthfully, he has no idea; all he can really hope to do is attempt to sway the Emperor in some way, or at the very least, buy him some time. 

“I will request an audience,” Marcus tells you. “I must go soon to debrief with the other generals, and he will be in attendance. I will speak to him, garner favor…” he trails off, knowing how vague and uncertain he sounds. 

“You would really take such a risk for me…?” you ask hesitantly. 

“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon me a gift,” Marcus says sardonically. “And as I see it, that gift is now mine, and is under my protection.” He gently cups your cheek, letting his palm rest against the slightly damp skin. “We will use his… generosity… to our advantage.”

He stands, letting his fingers trail across your jaw before pulling his hand back. “I must go. Do not open the door to anyone while I am gone.”

In the General’s absence, you finish off the rest of the breakfast tray, which was plentiful. With a full belly, you wander around the man’s chambers, exploring the space that will also be yours for the foreseeable future. You wash in the basin, splashing cool water on your face and sighing in relief. For the first time in over a day, you are finally able to breathe and take stock of your situation.

You should be grateful, really. The General Marcus, although gruff and tactless at times, seems to be a caring, even kind man. You believe him when he says he will protect you, protect your family, even though you have nothing to give him in return. Nothing he wishes to take, at any rate. 

Your eyes fall on an ornate dagger sitting on a table near the window, and you cannot help but think of the way his hands–the same hands that would fiercely wield a weapon to slice through skin and bone–so gently touched your face. 

A loud knock on the door to Marcus’s chambers startles him out of your reverie. A soft noise of surprise escapes you before you are able to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle it. You can tell that whoever is on the other side of the door has heard you, because they pause, listening, and then knock again.

The handle rattles as someone on the other side turns it back and forth, testing the strength of the lock, and your heart pounds with trepidation. 

They cannot get in. They cannot get in. They cannot get in. You repeat the phrase over and over in your head, but then you hear the distinct click as the lock is bypassed or picked, and the door swings wide.

“Well, well, well,” a man in ornate robes sneers. “It appears the rumors are true.”

**********************************

Another man in similar garb pushes past him. “Our beloved general has a new toy.” The words are dripping in sarcasm.

You back up against the wall, and the table next to you rattles when you bump it with your hip. Quickly, you pick up the dagger and point it at the intruders.

Both men guffaw loudly, slapping their knees and shoving each others’ shoulders in their apparent mirth. “She has teeth, she does!” one of them jeers.

“Tell us, did you bite the General when he stuck you?”

The men lunge forward, and you slash with the blade. One of them howls, clutching at his arm, where red is already beginning to well up between his fingers, but you are unused to wielding weapons and the second man rips it from your grasp easily.

“You little bitch,” the injured one spits, and slaps you, hard, with his good hand, the blood from his injury splashing your face and your white robes. You crumple in an instant, clutching your cheek, as the two men close in.

“I bet she squeals nice and loud,” one of them growls menacingly as he reaches for you.

*************************************

A loud bang from behind the men makes them startle. You look for the source, and see the General standing in the doorway with fury in his eyes. He wrenches another dagger from its scabbard and, with no warning, lunges forward and plunges it into the neck of the man who had reached for you. With a sickening gurgle, the man collapses instantly, and red blood begins to pool underneath him. Marcus rips the dagger from the man’s neck and points it at the second man as he shoves him against the wall, who immediately begins to whimper and shake his head. 

“Sniveling cur,” the General spits. “I would happily kill you both, but you are going to deliver a message for me instead.” At the man’s frantic nod, he continues. “It seems that some need reminding that I am not to be trifled with,” Marcus snarls. “And the next person who disrespects me by harming my property will be dealt with in the same manner as your friend. Now. Go.” 

The man bolts, clutching the wound you had given him.

Marcus’s demeanor immediately changes. He drops the dagger on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands again… hands that are trembling. 

“They hurt you,” he murmurs, his eyes rapidly flicking back and forth over your face, seeing the blood that had spattered on your robes.

“It isn’t mine,” you manage to say, although your voice shakes and your chest heaves with leftover terror. You can’t keep your gaze from landing on the dead man in front of you, his eyes still open and staring sightlessly ahead. “I–your knife I–”

“Okay,” he nods, his thumbs still caressing your cheekbones. “Okay. Shhh. Don’t look at him, look at me.” When you manage to pull your gaze to the General instead, you’re suddenly captivated by his wild, dark eyes. They’re so full of fire, yes, but with that fire brings warmth. He stares at you as if you are a precious object, not some scared little girl covered in blood and cowering against the wall. “Come here,” Marcus says softly. “Let me help you up.”

You surprise even yourself when you automatically lean forward and into the General’s arms. He stiffens, seemingly just as stunned by your trust in him, but he recovers and carefully stands, pulling you up with him and gently turning your body away from the dead man. He leads you forward, and you follow blindly as he guides you down onto a chair. 

“Let me fetch a cloth,” Marcus says, his expression stormy and troubled, “to clean you up. Do not move.”

You nod, watching as he fills a little bowl with water from the basin and comes back to crouch at your feet. “Your cheek,” he murmurs. “Is it very painful?”

You nod again, a few hot tears escaping from your eyes and stinging the small cut in question. 

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Marcus promises. “But it must be cleaned.”

You shut your eyes as his fingers carefully grasp your chin, using his hold to tilt your head and grant him easier access. The cloth is cold against the burning skin of your cheek, and you cannot stop the soft whimper that leaves your lips. Gently, the General dabs the little wound, dipping the cloth in water over and over and soothing the tender skin as he wipes it clean of dirt and blood.

Once satisfied with your cheek, he cleans the man’s blood off of the rest of your face and neck, as well as the few droplets that had landed on your hands from the other man as he was stabbed. 

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely as he gently turns one hand over and dabs away the last remaining spot of blood on the inside of your wrist. 

“You should not be thanking me,” Marcus says, voice tinged with bitterness. “It is because of me that you came to harm.”

“Yet it is also because of you that I was not harmed further,” you tell him quietly. Your eyes dart toward the body in a pool of blood still lying on the floor, and quickly look away again. “You killed a man for me.”

“You are under my protection,” Marcus says solemnly. “I do not take that vow lightly.”

As your heartbeat finally begins to slow, the deep terror that had been swirling inside you leaves, replaced with bone-weary fatigue. Your vision swims and your head sways slightly as you suddenly feel that you must fight the urge to fall asleep right here in this chair.

“Something ails me,” you say, alarmed at your darkening vision.

“Battle fatigue,” the General says matter-of-factly. “When the fog of war lifts, sleep often takes its place.”

“I am no soldier,” you protest tiredly. The world shifts–Marcus has scooped you into his arms and is carrying you to his bed, carefully laying you down on the blankets. 

“You are now,” he teases gently. “Victorious little soldier, bellatora, wielding a General’s weapon with ferocity. You even have a battle scar.” His finger gingerly brushes your cheek.

“Will others come?” you ask, struck with a sudden pang of fear even as your eyes threaten to close. 

“No.”

“What if they do?” It’s a silly question, and you aren’t sure why you even gave voice to such a childish fear. Warmth envelops you as Marcus covers your form with a blanket. Your eyes finally close, and the General’s last words seem to come to you through a dream.

“Then I will fight the entire Roman army to keep you safe.”

Marcus Acacius did not want this “gift.” 

He did not want a virgin to deflower, nor a scared girl to comfort, or even a servant that inexplicably tidied his rooms while he was away.

He did not want you. 

But here you are, sitting by his window with a book, eating all of your dinner and a good portion of his, and leaving long, curly hairs on his pillows, by the basin, and even on his armor–something he had discovered during a drill one morning, pulling the offending strand off of his pauldron with a bemused shake of his head. 

He does not want you. He doesn’t want the comb and mirror that now lie on the table by the basin, nor the extra rags he had to ask a servant for–ears burning bright red–when your… er… monthlies arrived. He does not want to spend his wages on new robes for you, but he hardly has a choice, not when your thin white shift became filthy with blood the night that he–

Gods.

The night that he almost lost you.

If his meeting had gone just five minutes longer, he would have been too late. He would have arrived to a much different scene, and he knows he would have killed every inhabitant of the palace in retribution.

This is how he knows that he cannot trust his own feelings when it comes to you. What should be an unwanted inconvenience in his life has quickly become much, much more. He acts like a man in love, the way he buys you trinkets and brings you sweets, but no matter how he twists the story in his own head, he cannot deny the truth: you are a captive. His captive.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wealthy merchant crosses his path in the bustling market, followed by another man carrying all of the man’s wares for him, purposely walking several paces behind as is the custom for slaves.

Marcus can dress you in all the finery his salary can afford, but that does not change the fact that you were intended to be a slave for his pleasure. 

He already has his intended prize from the market–a parcel containing two pieces of sweetbread tucked under one arm–but perhaps it is guilt over your imprisonment that causes his head to wander to the stall of jewelry to his left. 

“Trinkets for a special someone,” says a middle-aged woman wearing kohl eyeliner and almost as many beads around her own neck as are displayed in her stall. She shoots Marcus a knowing smirk as his fingers reach out to graze a length of beads of palest pink. 

“Rose quartz,” the woman tells him. “For love, compassion, and emotional healing.”

Rose quartz. He cannot help but picture the pretty, pale beads glowing, luminous against the soft skin of your neck.

“How much?” His voice is rough and thick. 

The woman’s smile widens.

They cost almost an entire weeks’ salary, and he’s never spent such a sum on anything for himself, let alone something so frivolous, but he’s already reaching for his purse.

You grin widely at Marcus’s return–a sight that makes his heart swell when he remembers how frightened you were of him on that first night. You make little grabbing motions with your hands, causing him to laugh as he hands over the parcel of sweetbread. You take your piece and hand him the other, hardly waiting until he’s taken it before you’re biting into the sweet dough with a sound of pleasure that goes straight to his nether regions. 

He thinks of the necklace, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his robes, but he is struck with a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, and he leaves it where it is. 

“Tell me about the market,” you say wistfully. 

“Too crowded,” Marcus grunts before taking a bite of his own sweetbread. 

You seem to find his cantankerous nature funny, for Gods know what reason, and the pretty sound of your laughter fills the room–and his mind.

“There are a number of visitors for some play at the amphitheater tonight,” he explains further, shrugging slightly.

You suddenly exclaim in delight, startling him a little. “I love the amphitheater,” you say emphatically. “My father often had to punish me for sneaking in to see plays against his wishes when I was a little girl.”

Marcus chuckles, picturing a smaller version of you, but no less fiery.

“It was worth it,” you laugh. You pop the last piece of sweetbread into your mouth and suck each finger clean of the sticky dough in turn. Marcus should look away, but he’s entranced by the way your lips close around each digit, leaving clean, shiny skin in your wake.

He blames this momentary onset of utter madness for the words that leave his mouth next.

“Would you like to go see it? The play?”

 The pure delight that washes over your face is enough to make Marcus want to take you to a different play every night, but after too short a time, you are frowning warily.

“Would that be wise?” you ask. “Is it not dangerous for me to leave your quarters?”

“You would be seen as my consort,” Marcus answers. “No harm will come to you, bellatora.”

“Your… your consort?” 

“You cannot be a prisoner in these walls for the rest of your days,” he tells you softly. “If we play the parts we have been given–the General and his consort–no one will question it. They wouldn’t dare, not after my warning. The entire palace knows that I will gladly kill anyone who threatens you.”

You duck your head, looking down at your hands. Marcus wonders if you’re frightened of him, still. 

“Everyone will see my act as one of possession,” he says. “Of territoriality. If we allow them to draw that conclusion, they will never suspect any different.”

You nod, biting your lower lip and giving him a timid smile that slowly spreads across your face and turns into something bright and joyful. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“The play will end before we even arrive, bellatora,” Marcus grouses from the main chamber. 

“Patience,” you snap from the washroom. The stupid elaborate hairstyle that you keep trying to braid your hair into keeps falling out, and you’re beginning to feel frustrated. With a heavy sigh, you settle for a simpler plait that falls over one shoulder. You’re wearing one of the nicer gowns that Marcus has gifted you–robes of deep emerald green, but you still worry that you look far too common to be an appropriate consort to a General.

Since when has such a thing become a concern for you? Despite the roles you are forced to play, Marcus is not your consort, nor your lover. He has made it clear he will never touch you, so why are you hiding in the washroom, worrying over your appearance?

With a pained sigh, you shake yourself, square your shoulders, and turn to face the General.

“Ready,” you announce, and the man in question looks up.

His lips part slightly, a little crease forming on his brow as his eyebrows raise. He fixes you with that look–the one he keeps giving you lately. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of surprise every time he sees you, as if you aren’t a permanent fixture in his rooms and could disappear at any moment. 

“What?” you finally ask. 

Marcus seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “It is missing something.”

The statement confuses you. “I–I have nothing else to–” You cut yourself off as the man seems to be digging through his clothing, looking for what, you do not know.

“I thought this would suit you,” he says quietly, as he retrieves a small parcel and holds it out for you to take.

You hesitate, frowning. “What is it?”

Marcus huffs softly with impatience and opens the parcel himself, revealing the prettiest strand of stones you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh,” you gasp. 

“Do you…” the man in front of you clears his throat and shifts in his stance, “Do you like it?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I like it.”

Wordlessly, he removes it from the cloth and moves behind you to clasp it at the back of your neck. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face at the feel of the cool beads resting against your throat. Gently, you touch the necklace with your fingers and turn to look at Marcus. “Does it look pretty?” you ask, still grinning at him.

The General’s face is almost pained when he returns your gaze. His eyes don’t leave yours when he softly answers, “Yes.”

Marcus Acacius has never been much for plays, but never before has he experienced seeing one with you. He can’t help cracking a small smile himself every time you let out a joyful peal of laughter, which you do often, as the story is a humorous one. 

The necklace suits you just as he thought it would, but your beauty almost makes the stones appear dull in comparison. If anyone were to ask him, Marcus would say that your smile could outshine all of Rome. Pretending that you are his consort is far too easy; your delicate fingers find the crook of his elbow without prompting when he offers his arm to you as you walk through the streets when the show ends. Your eyes always seem to find his, your face bright and hopeful and oh so lovely as you look up at him. 

“Marcus?” 

He’s been lost in his thoughts again. He grunts and nods to you as the two of you walk back to the palace, when you suddenly stop. 

“I want to tell you…” you begin, wringing your hands together nervously. 

“What is it, bellatora?” Marcus asks with concern.

“I want to tell you that I am… very happy,” you say, ducking your head and avoiding his gaze. 

“I am glad that you enjoyed the play,” Marcus says hesitantly, wondering what is making you suddenly be so… shy.

“With you,” you add quietly. “It’s not only the play, it’s… it’s just you, Marcus.” The final word is almost a plea, with how earnestly it leaves your lips. “I–I want you to know that I would. I would be your consort, i-if you wanted, and I’d–”

Marcus closes the small distance between you and presses his lips against yours. You yield to him immediately, your small hands moving up the planes of his chest and coming to rest at his jaw. You kiss with the slight timidness of someone unfamiliar with how to do it, but oh, he’s happy to guide you. One of his hands gently cups your neck, the other caresses your cheek and it’s all he can do to keep the kiss chaste and not frighten you by backing you up against the wall of the alleyway and opening his mouth to you. 

When he releases your lips, you chase him–leaning forward with your mouth still pouted and your eyes closed, as though you cannot bear to be parted from him, and it takes a herculean effort not to indulge.

“Come,” Marcus murmurs softly, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone, watching as you flutter your eyes open and look at him with an expression of such open trust and want that he feels as though he’ll burn from the inside out. “Come, let us go home.”

You are ablaze.

Marcus’s hands seem to burn with heat as he guides you hastily through the palace and to his familiar quarters, but their temperature still seems to pale in comparison to the heat that rises within you. 

Once inside, he kisses you again, and you swear your knees could simply buckle and give out just at the feel of his lips on yours. You crave it again and again; your hands grip at his robes to hold him close to you, hoping he’ll never stop. 

“Sweet girl, little bellatora,” Marcus murmurs, his lips dragging from your mouth across your cheek to the side of your neck and oh, you like that even more–your head falls to the side and your back arches as you all but beg for his lips on your skin again. His hand on your lower back guides you even closer until your bodies are pressing together and you gasp softly at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your earlobe and causing a cascade of shivers to course through you. “Tell me that you want this. If you do not, deny me now, and I promise I will never touch you again.”

“No,” you whimper automatically. “No, please don’t stop, just–”

“Shhh, bellatora.” Marcus seems to crumple with relief, leaning forward until your back hits the wall and his lips ravish your neck once again. “I won’t stop, just tell me you want me like this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as the General’s hands cage your face and his mouth meets yours once again. “Yes, yes, yes–” You repeat the word over and over into his mouth, until he groans softly and parts his lips too, deepening the kiss and tasting you with his tongue.

His hands caress your neck, fingertips running up and down before settling on the clasps on your shoulders. “Let me see you,” he whispers. “Please, let me–”

You pull back, looking in his eyes as you nod slowly, giving him permission. He carefully undoes your dress, letting the fabric fall and pool at your feet. The necklace is still around your neck, and he touches the beads lightly as he stares at the sight before him.

“Oh, Gods…” Marcus murmurs to himself, shaking his head in awe. “What a divine gift you are, bellatora.”

His eyes rake over your breasts, your hips, the swell of your stomach, and the fire burning within threatens to consume you. With one more soft kiss, he whispers, “Come to the bed, so I may worship you properly.”

You let him lead you, keeping your eyes on him as he takes your hands in his and pulls you toward the bed. You are too consumed with flames to feel fear of this moment, but a pang of nervousness thrums within you despite yourself. 

Marcus guides you down until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. You begin to scoot backwards–you might not have much experience, but you know you’re supposed to be lying on the bed–when he stops you, and instead sinks to his knees in front of you. 

“I–” you begin, unsure of what to do.

“I want you to watch,” the General whispers, looking up at you in the same way an acolyte may look up at a temple. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of spooking you, he guides your legs open until you’re splayed out in front of him. You would be embarrassed, but for the hungry look in his eyes, how his chest seems to heave in anticipation, and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips as if he’s about to enjoy a feast.

When he leans forward, his mouth moving toward you, you gasp and stiffen, and he pauses.

“Trust me,” he soothes. “It will feel good, I promise.”

You swallow thickly and relax again, watching as Marcus comes even closer, until he’s able to press a kiss right on–

“Oh,” you whimper softly. 

Emboldened, he angles his mouth against you and licks. The sensation of his tongue through your folds causes you to collapse backwards on your elbows, your head falling back and your eyes closing as you gasp toward the ceiling. 

“Watch,” Marcus reminds you. 

With you half-sprawled on the bed, your legs fall open even further and his hands wind underneath your hips as he pulls you even closer onto his mouth. His tongue, his lips… oh, it’s so decadent; you’ve never felt pleasure like this by your own hand. He thrusts his tongue into you, and you can only whine and babble wordlessly, your eyes wide as you dutifully watch him please you. He alternates between these deep, overwhelming strokes of his tongue and little licks right on the little bundle of nerves above, back and forth, back and forth until your entire body shakes. 

“Exquisite,” Marcus rasps, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. His lips close around you and he sucks gently, and the fire within you burns until it reaches a crescendo, until finally, you fall.

“Bellatora.” The endearment is laden with affection, and when you slowly blink your eyes open, the General is smiling down at you. “Are you with me, mi bellatora?”

You giggle. “I think so.”

He must have disrobed while your eyes were closed; you stare at his slightly golden chest, at the light dusting of hair and freckles, and further down, where–

Oh, Gods. 

Marcus hangs thick, heavy, and proud, and you swallow in trepidation at the thought of all of that inside you.

“Don't look at that; look at me.” The words are soothing, but tinged with humor, and you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes when you do as he asks and look at him.

“Let us just lie down together,” he says, smiling. “Nothing more.”

You scoot up until your head rests against the pillows, and Marcus crawls over you with a smirk, pressing little kisses up your body as he goes, until he lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

With your back against his chest, you can't exactly forget about the hard length of him, as it's currently pressing insistently against you. You wiggle, arching your back and trying to soothe the empty ache that still seems to reside within you. 

“Feeling greedy, mi bellatora?” 

You whine softly and push back against him harder. His arms are wrapped around you, but somehow, it’s still not enough. You want him everywhere, you need everything. 

“What have you done to me?” you laugh softly. 

“Nothing you have not also done to me,” Marcus murmurs, nipping your shoulder playfully. 

“I have done nothing,” you say airily, leaning further back into his embrace.

“Oh, you have,” he growls. “You have invaded my quarters–”

“That is hardly my doing–”

“–and shortly after, invaded my heart,” Marcus continues, ignoring your interruption. “You have made me crave as I never have before.”

“You have made me feel the same,” you whisper. “I have never… felt anything like this before.”

“Mi bellatora,” he breathes against your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Do not be cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“You are denying me.”

At your playful accusation, Marcus suddenly shifts, rising up from beside you and pinning you to the bed with his body. “And it is taking the effort of every bone in my body, more challenging than all twelve labors of Hercules.”

“Then stop,” you tell him softly, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Stop denying us what we both want.”

Rather than answer, the General lowers his mouth to yours. 

Kissing might be your new favorite thing–you thought the feel of Marcus’s lips was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt when he kissed you in the alleyway, but here, in his bed, with the weight of his body pressing deliciously down on you, his kisses feel even more profound. His hips roll gently against you, and you instinctively wrap one leg around his thigh to try and relieve your desire for more friction. 

The action causes Marcus to groan and bury his face in your neck, his light beard scraping against your skin. Your hips cant upward unconsciously, and the skin of his cock catches and rubs against your folds. 

With a little moan, you press against him harder, wanting more, more–

“Bellatora,” Marcus groans. He props himself on one elbow over you, spits on the other hand and rubs the wetness onto the head of his cock. He repeats the motion again, and then gently rubs the remainder onto you, making you arch back with a surprised gasp. 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He lines up the thick head of him with your entrance and pushes the tip in ever so slightly. Your eyes widen as you feel him, your mouth falling open as you stare up at him in awe.

“That’s it, just look at me,” Marcus murmurs. “Just keep looking at me.”

His face is so close to yours that your breaths mingle as he slowly slides in. You expect it to hurt, but you’re so soaked from his earlier attentions that it’s almost easy for him, at first. When he’s only about halfway in, though, you start to feel unbearably full–too full–and it makes you whimper softly and squirm against him.

“Breathe for me,” Marcus reminds you. “Breathe, mi bellatora.”

In between more kisses and soft praises, he pushes forward, bit by bit, until you can feel his body fully pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling shakily. “I can feel you.”

Marcus chuckles. “And I, you.”

He stays just there, unmoving, stroking your face, until you begin to squirm with impatience again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, bellatora,” he says softly. “Please, love, tell me if I do.”

You nod, wide-eyed and enraptured by the feeling of being utterly filled. With one last gently kiss to your cheekbone, Marcus carefully begins to move. His cock drags slowly back and forth against your walls, and each time he buries himself to the hilt once again, it sends sparks of pleasure all over your body.

Your exhales turn high and breathy, little whimpers and gasps escaping every time Marcus reaches the end of you. You cling to his shoulders, the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his curls, eliciting a deep groan and a change in the rhythm of his thrusts as he gains confidence that you aren’t in any pain. 

The faster Marcus’s hips move, the more it seems to send you into a frenzy. Your legs wrap around his hips and your grip on his upper body tightens as the fire within you starts to build again. 

Your lips seek any available skin they can find, pressing open-mouthed against his jaw, his neck, his upper arm, anywhere you can reach. One of Marcus’s hands gently cups the back of your neck for leverage as he grinds against you; the other wanders up and down your body–gripping your hip, squeezing your breast and pressing his thumb against your nipple, stroking your cheek as he kisses you again and again. 

His kisses become more and more messy and frenetic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. He pants softly, his voice catching on every exhale, quiet little noises deep in his throat that only you can hear. 

Your bodies move seamlessly together, aided by the light sheen of sweat that beads on your skin. Marcus hand slips in between you, his fingers finding the little bundle of nerves and gently rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Oh, I–I–” you whimper brokenly, drunk on the sensations of pleasure that he’s pulling from your body. “M-Ma–” 

“Say it,” he rasps in your ear. “Please, bellatora.”

“Marcus,” you manage to gasp. 

“Again.”

“M-Marcus, Marcus, oh Gods, I–” 

Your body arches off the bed as the strongest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt courses through you. You convulse against him, hands scrabbling for a hold on his broad shoulders, gripping him for dear life as though he is the only thing keeping you from being pulled under by the waves. 

Your cries reach a crescendo and Marcus gives you everything–his hips snapping roughly against you as your core continues to flutter weakly. Finally, when your body feels boneless and the fullness of him begins to ache, his thrusts falter and he finally stills, his cock twitching inside of you as he finishes. 

He slips out, frowning slightly with concern when you wince, but continues to hover over you, his eyes sweeping over your face as your breathing slows and your heart quietens. He stays there, stroking your hair and kissing you until his shoulders start to shake with the effort of holding himself over you. 

You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm in Marcus’s arms.

[Several moons later]

“Must we really go?” you wheedle as you watch the General fiddle with the clasp on his ceremonial robes.

“It is the most effective way to make our little statement, bellatora.” 

You cross your arms and make a show of pouting, although you know Marcus is right. You raise your arms, which are currently holding half of an unfinished braid. “Help me with my hair?” 

Marcus sighs loudly, although you know that, like your feigned petulance, it’s also an act. He takes the braid from you and finishes it before moving to the next section, plaiting it together the way he knows you like. 

“Tell me the statement again.”

He huffs. “You just like hearing me say it.”

“Yes.”

“An act against one of us is an act against both of us,” he murmurs dutifully. “And tantamount to an act of war, to be met with a swift and disproportionate response.”

“You always say that–‘disproportionate response.’ I do not understand what you mean by it.”

“Mmm. An opposing force sends one arrow into my army, I send one back. Proportionate response. Someone sends an arrow into my army, and I reign fire from the sky, burn every building to the ground, kill every citizen and remove them from every map. Disproportionate response.” Marcus finishes your hair and gently drapes the long braid over your shoulder.

“If ever you ask why I was scared of you when first we met, I will refer to you to that statement,” you say wryly. 

“You did ask, mi bellatora.” He picks up a belt and scabbard–similar to his, but smaller, more delicate, and ornate. He fastens it around your waist, cinching your dress and making you feel not only more alluring, but powerful. 

You do a little twirl and turn to him. “Do I look like the consort of an esteemed General?”

Marcus leans in and gently captures your lips with his. “You look like so much more. Now let us go into this den of wolves.”

With your head held high, you walk proudly through the halls at the General’s side, your hand tucked neatly against the crook of his elbow, until you reach the banquet hall, where the Emperor is holding a great feast. In your wildest imagination, you cannot think of a single place you want to avoid more, but you hold Marcus’s earlier promise in your mind as the heads turn to look at your entrance.

This is the last time.

The Emperor, surrounded by his entourage, raises his glass with a shout and a laugh as he sees the two of you. “The good General,” he grins wolfishly. 

“Taking his little plaything out for a walk,” one of the other men sneer. 

“Letting his little pet out of its cage,” adds another, snickering. 

Calmly, you unsheath the beautiful, ceremonial dagger that Marcus had given you as a gift and hold it at your side, just as he’d told you. A powerful warrior does not brandish their weapon or wave it under people’s noses, he had said. A powerful warrior does not need to. They simply remind their enemies that the weapon is there.

“You disrespect me,” you say, keeping your face even and your eyes stern. “And you disrespect my husband.”

Silence falls around the room. The Emperor’s men look at each other, to Marcus, and back to you again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, one of them laughs loudly.

“General Acacius is going soft,” he cackles. “Letting his little toy play pretend that she’s the wife of a noble.”

You fight to keep your expression free of malice or hurt, continuing to face them down calmly, your sword resting at your side. 

“Your gift to the General was far more valuable than you knew,” you say evenly, speaking only to the Emperor. “My family’s debt is paid in full, and I am therefore free to leave the palace at my leisure.”

The Emperor of Rome stares at you with befuddlement, his eyes wide, seemingly completely at a loss for words.

“We take our leave,” you announce with a flourish of a bow. 

“Leave?” The man sputters. “You are my finest General, you cannot–”

“I have given the Empire more than my fair share of years in service,” Marcus says quietly, standing resolutely next to you and placing his hand around your waist. “I find I have seen all I care to see of war, and the rest of my days will be filled with peace.”

Marcus turns to the other generals, who are all watching the confrontation with the Emperor. Without speaking, they draw their swords and hold them aloft in a silent salute to your husband–who solemnly returns the gesture. As you are still holding your dagger, you copy the gesture. This seems to please both him and the other Generals, who all smile. 

Marcus turns to you, beaming with affection and pride. “Let’s go home, bellatora.”

Epilogue

In a small hamlet south of the big city, a villa sits on a small hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. 

There is a rumor among some of the residents of the town that the man who lives there used to be a General in the Emperor’s army, but most of the inhabitants agree that this is a ridiculous notion. 

He’s too soft-spoken, you see; his gentle demeanor is unlike that of a soldier. He often likes to sit with his wife and watch the color of the sea change as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the moment of peace before his children wake up. 

There are five of them now–with a sixth on the way. His wife jokes that should she find herself with child for the seventh time, she’s going to feed the man’s privates to their goats. 

Their life is modest, but by all accounts of those who witness it, they are blissfully happy. Their home always seems to be filled with joy, laughter, and no small amount of chaos that always follows young children. They maintain a small farm, raise goats and chickens, and they sell their extra eggs and vegetables at the market every week, accompanied by their five children, who are helpful… to varying degrees.  

Sometimes, late at night, the odd passer-by will see the silhouette of a couple standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, wrapped in a tender embrace.

They have few visitors, but those who have been inside their villa have noted that two swords are mounted above the front door. One is large, utilitarian, but expertly crafted–with signs of wear that might indicate it has seen more conflict than most. The other is small and elegant, the hilt decorated with precious stones. 

No one has ever dared to ask about them.

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

The Hybrid House | ateez x reader

Pairing: hybrid!ot8!ateez x rich!girl!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, slice of life

Warnings: mention of su*c*de (it isn't detailed, just mentioned), description of emotions after aforementioned event.

Word Count: 1223 words

a/n: just to clarify with the chapter warnings, it is not my intention to sensationalize su*c*de. it's just mentioned but I do describe the impact a little on one of the characters, so I included a red asterisk * at the beginning and end of where it starts and ends.

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Chapter 2

Things were never the same as before.

After returning home from Thanksgiving that year, your parents barred you and Axel from having any contact with your Great Aunt or anyone from there. Growing up became a monotonous journey of adhering to meticulous expectations and suppressing emotions that would creep in out of nowhere, sometimes late at night and continuously bang in your chest and surge through your veins like an icy slush, begging to be felt. You were expected to excel and outshine your cousins every academic year, and if you didn’t, you would have to face the grueling and mind-numbing one hour long lecture from your parents about how inferior you were to your cousins and even siblings, and how detrimental it would be to your life, if you didn’t achieve their your goals.

You felt like a hamster in a wheel, and so did your brother. Axel was no longer the same person he was. The magical life you both knew and enjoyed and that instilled a sense of possibility and hope every time you visited your Great Aunt was ripped away and holidays were never the same - no longer wonderful but rather filled with exclusive and lavish but toneless dinners with the same repetitive and dull conversations about either the successes of each person or the snide remarks about the failures of others.

You both became robots, submitting to your parents’ way of life. Axel was no longer the same. The brother you knew, who would resist and find ways to sneak around your parents’ dictator rules, became cold and distant. You noticed the haunted and hollow look in his eyes - it showed a profound emptiness filled with sadness with his expressions always mirroring a wilting flower. When he moved out to attend college (that your parents’ selected), he pulled you in a bone-crushing hug before leaving and patted the top of your head with a meek smile as tears glistened in his eyes.

“I’ll always be there for you.”

*

You had just turned 15 and by the end of the year, your world crashed and burned when you were told the worst news - Axel had jumped off a bridge and the medics were unable to save him. The weight of despair and agony crushed your whole existence, and you felt like you were drowning in an ocean of endless sadness and despair. The silent screams you would hold back erupted as an avalanche of sorrow, pain and a dark cloud of grief descended on you with tears stinging like shards of glass and the ragged gasps between sobs making it feel impossible to breathe. 

It took all the effort from your two other brothers to hold you back when one of your parents’ colleague and his wife made a snide remark about Axel when they came to offer their condolences at the memorial.

*

As for your parents, they became different people - they pretended as if Axel never existed, never told your youngest siblings who were born a few months before the event about their brother and pressured each of your siblings so pressingly, it led to the point where your eldest brother showed disdain at the mere mention of Axel’s name and your older sister iced you out if you asked anything regarding doing something for Axel’s anniversary.

Only your other brother showed some support but the bond between the two of you seemed to have become so damaged, he would retreat on his promises and disappear, ignoring you if he was passing by and you were in the room. So every night on the day of Axel’s passing, you would sit in the treehouse that became dusty and cluttered, and cry uncontrollably, secretly praying to go back to how things used to be when you were at your Great Aunt’s.

“What did we do to deserve this?”

And then, after a brutal and nasty argument with your older siblings, you studied diligently to curry favor with your parents and then requested your father to send you to an elite university in Upper New York. You decided to follow in Axel’s footsteps and work your way around your parents’ demands so that things could happen in your favor. You became calculative and observant and succeeded in proving your worth to your parents who as a gift, gave you a top position at the family’s company. Following this, you worked to establish your own personal company to help break away from your parents and move further away from your siblings. 

You took on one of your father’s failed projects and successfully achieved what your father couldn’t do. You saw things for how they were instilled in you to view - dollar signs that could help you move up even higher than before and gain unlimited independence from your family and anyone.

But your parents still tried to control one area of your life, your love life. They tried to set you up on dates and arrange courtships where possible. Luckily for you, it fell through one way or the other. 

However, despite your money-making centered lifestyle, you weren’t completely obsolete to everything. Maybe it was the part of you that learnt from Axel and continued to cherish his lessons. Even if you would never admit it, love felt more than just an arrangement to have more money. Although you were heavily ingrained in the fast-paced, upscale lifestyle, something pulled you in the other direction when it came to love.

Nevertheless, you continued to live your life day by day as it came with meetings, negotiations and the few occasions that included luxurious drinks and food at restaurants or clubs or on yachts in different parts of the world.

Until one day, after a hectic meeting you received a call from a lawyer, more specifically, your Great Aunt's lawyer. Once again, your world was interrupted with life-changing but heart wrenching news - your Great Aunt passed away just a few moments ago before you received the call and you were now the inheritor of her estate, money and home.

That night, you stood on your balcony unable to process all of it. You were now a hundred or probably a thousand times richer, but your Great Aunt who was a part of the best moments in your childhood that became vague and indistinct in your mind, was no longer here. 

Tears cascaded down your face into your concocted cocktail. This was the first time that you cried like this since your brother Axel.

You contemplated telling your parents but then decided against it, remembering that your family did not have any good things to say about your Great Aunt after all these years. This was a secret only for you to know.

And your best friend Yeonjun.

Recruiting Yeonjun, you told your parents you were accompanying him on a trip to Asia to help him secure a business deal with some clients. They paid no heed and waved you off and sent you on your travels.

Now, you were in a car outside of Seoul's airport waiting for Yeonjun to finish placing the bags in the trunk. 

It was at this moment the realization was slowly dawning on you: it had been 13 years since you last came to Seoul, which meant it had been 13 years since you last saw your friends.

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Taglist: @ateezennie23 @edenani @seonghwasslytherin

[bangtaninborderland]

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, || word count: 9.4k || Genre: Smut (18+)

Warning: degradation, smut, dom!everyone sub! YN/JK, fingering, ruined orgasm, oral (m receiving), milking, nipple play, bd(s)m, hair pulling, spanking, overstimulation, orgy, tons of gay stuff.

A/N: So! I wrote this in 4 days it is 9 k and it was so difficult because it is all smut, the first part continues from the last chapter meaning it didn’t start in the morning but the night before. I decided to give Yoonmin AND jikook a special scene. As for YNS back story it starts when you see two asterisks ** it ends after that paragraph. If you are not interested in it then skip it, it doesn’t massively impact the story and I wrote it so you won’t be missing anything. As always please give me your feedback. Love y’all!

p.s CONFESSIONALS ARE STILL OPEN SEND ME YOUR CHARACTER QUESTIONS!

Prev| Masterlist | next

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

You knew you had a specific prize In mind, whether or not you could and would be granted that reward was something that left you feeling a rather dull sense of uncertainty. However, you chose to ignore this and headed straight to the producers' van as you were sure of your choice.

“YN is everything okay?” Was the first thing Sejin asked, upon seeing you he opened the door, coming down the steps to lean against the stationary vehicle. Normally you’d be more than happy to have a long conversation with him but now wasn’t the time for that, not when butterflies danced around your stomach and threatened to spew from your mouth.

You gave him a curt nod. “I want to talk about the reward..”

“What have you chosen?”

“I want one day with them, 24 hours with no rules or limits. I want to be able to touch them all and vice Versa. Is that possible?”

“I would have to talk to the producers about it, we would be two days short on time for the prompts but if you think that’s sufficient then I don’t see any issue with it. Give me 10 minutes, I’ll check in with them and see what they say.” He smiled at you before one against disappearing into the van. You didn’t try to eavesdrop as you paced back and forth outside, the fear of being told no starting to gnaw at you.

You almost jumped as a hand came to rest on your shoulder, only relaxing when you see Yoongi there. “Why do you look like a deer in headlights?”

“Because I asked for what I wanted but I’m afraid I’ll be told no.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him for a hug.

He must have been able to tell you needed the comfort as he rested a hand on your back, his fingers lazily drawing patterns over the fabric of Jungkooks shirt. “What did you ask for love?”

“To have you all for 24 hours with no rules or limits just us all together. I didn’t want to tell anyone in case they said no, I didn’t want to give false hope.”

“What are we going to do with you hm?” He pulled back, hand stroking your cheek. “Always the kindest.”

“It’s hard yoon. I don’t say it much but it’s hard, seeing everyone and not being able to touch them. Whilst we are here the primary focus is the show, I know that’s changed for us but somehow it hasn’t because we still have to complete everything given to us. I’ll never regret coming here because it led me all to you but I wish we had more time to be with each other, I wish we could all go on a date together. A big date. I know that sounds ridiculous but I want you all and I want you all to want each other and to want me. I don’t want anything to change.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. “You’ve been keeping a little too much in sweetheart, you’ve got to let it out some time we are all here for you. Most of us couldn’t get through this show if it wasn’t for you.”

“Well, that's probably kind of because I have a vagina and I’m the lady of the house.” You laugh through light tears that had begun to blur your vision.

He shook his head, chuckling lightly. “No, your smile on a difficult day, the way you care for us individually, the way you support us all regardless of what way you do it. We need you just as much as we need Hoseok, or Taehyung, seokjin Hyung, Namjoonie, kook-ah or Jimin.

You smiled a bit. Even in the most stressful situations, any of their presence was such a pacifying one, it silenced the disquieted feelings in you, leaving you with a slight warmth and a resolve that no matter what happens everything will be okay.

“Once it’s nearer the end I think we should all gather and talk again, we could all use it.” You knew that you weren’t the only one with worries, your conversation with Taehyung just a week earlier had lingered in your mind, the real possibility that in the outside world things just wouldn’t work out.

You didn’t have any more time to discuss the matter as Sejin opened the door, both of your heads turning to face him. You couldn’t read his facial expressions so you had nothing to go off as he approached you. “Well, I’ve talked with them.”

“And?”

“You’ve got until midday on Tuesday, it’s Sunday now so that’s a little over 24 hours but the producing team said we had gotten a good amount of footage and it should still be possible to get the prompts done between Tuesday and Sunday as there’s still five days and only three left. “

“Wait really?” You turned to face yoongi who was wearing a smile just as big as yours, they all knew they could touch each other so this may have been selfish as realistically you were the only one benefitting from it yet still the doctor only smiled at you, for you. “I have to go tell them.”

You almost run away before thanking Sejin who just replied with a “yeah yeah.”

You made a note to truly thank him before the show was over, the finish line almost in view. For now, that didn’t matter, for now, you have seven amazing people to spend 24 free hours with.

You nearly tripped over the doorframe as you slipped your shoes off, only steadying yourself before rushing into the living room where everyone had gathered. “We have 24 hours, 24 hours no rules we can touch we can do whatever we can be together just as normal with no worry about being evicted.”

Everyone stood up slowly from their respective seats darted around the room, each and every face holding a look of anticipation and hope that brought a smile to your lips. “So…they said yes?”

“We have a little more than 24 hours, our time finishes at midday on Tuesday.” You explained excitedly, their faces reading back the joy you felt.

“You thought of the most perfect prize petal.” Taehyung laughed, crossing the room to take your hand in his, kissing the back of it gently.

Jungkook shuffled from one foot to another, hands clasping awkwardly at either side. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Then why are you waiting?” You asked daringly, raising your eyebrows only to encourage the cam boy.

“Fuck I missed this.” He rasped, hand resting atop your cheek gently as the other hand slid to your neck, gripping it lightly. The kiss embodies everything Jungkook is as a person. His soft and sweet side morphing with the flirtatious and downright sexy side of him. You almost wanted to demand he chose one - sweet or sexy, you weren’t sure you could handle him being both.

Taehyung was next. Nudging Jungkook to the side as he rested a hand atop your hip as the other gripped the back of your neck, trapping your lips against his. You moaned into his mouth as he tugged on your hair, which only caused the others to groan.

“Seokjinnie.” You called out as taehyung stepped away, making grabby hands at the older man who happily divulged you. He crossed the small space between you in two steps, long fingers caressing your face. You had almost forgotten how beautifully the man kissed, every millisecond filled with softness but also a light air of dominance. Lips both barely brushing against yours and being overwhelmingly forceful. “Fuck.” He whispered pulling away, resting his forehead against yours to allow you both time to bathe your breath.

“Where’s hobi?” You asked, looking around until you see him standing behind Namjoon.

“Can I hug you?” You asked, wanting to have the man close, as much as you respected his identity and preference it didn’t cause a faint sadness in your heart that you’d never be able to show him the love you held for him in the way you had once hoped to. As his arms wrapped around you that feeling disappeared into some dark corner of your mind, the warmth of his body against yours and the sound feeling that he was there for you just as much as anyone else even though it may be different was more than enough to make you feel complete.

“Group hug,” Jungkook shouted, plummeting into your both as everyone else joined. Even yoongi, although he will swear later he didn’t.

“Group kiss?” Taehyung asked, only to be responded with giggles and a poke to his side from Hoseok.

“I don’t want to sleep, I can finally touch you all and kiss you all, I don’t want to waste any of that time.” You sighed, everyone slowly letting go of the hug. “I missed this so much.”

Seokjin wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We did too baby but sleeping is important, we sleep early we can wake up early. I’ll get dinner started, yoon do you want to help?”

“Okay, Hyung.” Yoongi nodded giving your arm a final squeeze before walking off with seokjin, if anyone noticed the way their fingers entwined the second they were away from the group no one said anything.

Before you could move Jungkook had already wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close against him as though any distance was too far. You couldn’t say you didn’t feel the need to be close to them all, especially now there were no limits to the way you could touch them, you had never thought the rules would be an issue but then again you never anticipated falling in love with everyone here.

“What are you thinking about?” Namjoon asked from across the room, the book he had been reading for the past few days placed atop the table beside him.

You shook your head leaning back against Jungkook. “Just how much I missed this”

“C'mon Hyung, you know baby is always greedy.” Jimin teased, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I may be greedy but so are you. I don’t ever hear you complain when I let you fuck me senseless.” You retorted, you could play dangerously too. “Taehyungie, come here.” You reached out a hand to the other. Jungkook didn’t move but relaxed one arm to pull taehyung to you. It felt thrilling to be trapped between the pair, their bodies flush against yours. You couldn’t move even if you tried and you like that far more than you cared to admit, the feeling of being helpless between two of the sexiest men you’ve ever met left you feeling dizzy your legs giving out just a little as Taehyung brought his fingers to your lips.

“Open.” His voice was demanding and left no room for argument so you didn’t, you parted your lips slightly allowing him enough space to slide his finger into your mouth. You closed your lips around the digit, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb. “Fuck.” He groaned. “I want to watch you fall apart piece by piece.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook called out, you could feel his cock growing against your ass which only encouraged your own arousal. “You should wait until after dinner.” What? No. That is exactly what you didn’t want. You tried shaking your head but Taehyung slid his thumb out, fingers gripping painfully into your chin. “Be patient.”

You let out a whine in protest, pulling him closer to you only for him to grab your throat. “Ah ah, don’t even try it sweetheart, quiet okay? Behave and I promise I’ll make you feel good later.”

Your mouth went dry. Completely mesmerised by the man, you were sure you were falling in love all over again. “O-okay.”

It had been a while since you felt this floaty, this pliant and willing, for a moment you felt fear before falling slack against jungkook a mist covering your mind and leaving you feeling blissful.

“Did you just?” You heard someone ask, not bothering to find out who it was. Everything felt right, you didn’t want to disturb that.

You heard a voice close to you, jimin maybe. “Subspace?”

“I think so.” You reached forward for taehyung, wanting him next to you only to be pulled away by someone else. “Come here, darling.”

You whined, trying to find your way back to taehyung. “Tae.”

“He’s coming, baby. Tae Tae is coming let’s go sit down hm?” You could recognise the feeling of namjoons hands on your arms, guiding you over to the couch.

“Jungkook go and get some water.” Jimin directed the younger, you buried yourself deeper into namjoons frame, his warmth being inviting.

You weren’t stupid you knew what was happening but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, you felt safe with them, safe enough to let them take care of everything for a little while. “Jinnie.”

“You want Seokjin Hyun?” Namjoon asked, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

You nodded, or at least you think you did. “Yoongi too.”

“Okay okay.” He laughed calling the others in.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked walking over to where you were nestled against Joon. “Is she okay?”

“Tae was having a little fun with her and she seemed to slip.” Jungkook answered, taking a seat at the end of the couch. “She said she wanted both of you.”

“Hoseok can you go and watch the food?” Jin would have asked one of the youngers but he was sure something would burn and Hoseok was the only one who knew how to season the meat right.

The dominant stepped forward, happy to help, he was always happy to help. You didn’t want him to help. You didn’t want anyone to do anything but be around you. “No!” You mumbled, wanting them all around you. “Stay.”

Yoongi was in front of you, hands on your face. Hobi stood behind him, close enough you could touch him. “We all need to eat darling, so do you.”

“I’ll be gone a few minutes and then I will come back and sit with you okay?” Hoseok spoke up, reaching out to grab your hand. “Be good for me, I know you want us all here with you I promise once we all eat we can make a pillow fort across the floor and all sleep downstairs.”

You loved this side of Hoseok, it wasn’t one you found yourself the pleasure of seeing often so whenever it did make an appearance you filed the memory away in your mind for safekeeping. “okay but be quick.” You found yourself pouting, if you weren’t feeling so floaty you may have been hit with a wave of embarrassment but that consciousness was too far out of reach.

“Can you drink some for me sweetheart?” Jin bent down, brushing your hair away from your forehead. You moved forward, allowing yourself to drink from the bottle with ease before sitting back against namjoon. “So good baby.”

You smiled at the praise, head lulling against the philosopher. “Love you.” You whispered, wanting them all to know how you felt, even if it wasn’t a huge deceleration those words held a meaning you wished some day to explain.

Everyone responded, at least you think everyone did. The blanket that clouded your mind had only caused you to feel tired and despite the dinner you knew was being cooked there was no good reason to hold back from sleep, so you didn’t. With Namjoons body against you and the comforting voices of the others around the room, you slipped into dreamland peacefully.

“She’s asleep I think.” Jimin touched namjoons shoulder. “Want me to move so you can lay her down?”

“No it’s okay, I don’t want to disturb her.” Namjoon refused, leaning back to give himself more room.

“That was definitely different, she’s never gone into a submissive headspace like that before. At least not with me.” Hoseok spoke up, leaning against the wall. “Jimin?”

Jimin pursed his lips together, rethinking all the times there had ever been a scene between the two of you before shaking his head. “She’s never been like that before whenever we have gotten into a scene, yes she has her moments of being in a submissive space but never to that extent and never that fast.”

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing.” Tae smiled, head resting on Jungkooks shoulder. “Right?”

“It’s not bad I’ve seen people fall harder and faster but it’s more so the reasoning for it, you weren’t extremely dominant with her and it didn’t become sexual. Sometimes entering a submissive space isn’t caused by pleasure it can be caused by stress, those who have fallen into submissive headspace can often use that place to keep them grounded or even relaxed if they are experiencing stress or going through a stressful situation. I think the emotions that come along with the rules being lifted for 24 hours only have her all the more reason to submit.”

“Let’s let her sleep until dinner, call me if she wakes up.” Seokjin didn’t wait for a response before turning towards the kitchen Yoongi following behind him.

—-

“Baby?” You felt yourself shaking lightly, pulling you from the dream you had just been living in. “You gotta wake up petal dinner is ready.”

“Jin?” You mumbled, reaching for the man. The absence of namjoons body against yours left you feeling cold. “Did I sleep long?”

He wrapped an arm around you, helping you sit up. “No, only about thirty minutes give or take. How are you feeling?”

You took his hand, steadying yourself as you stood. Still sleepy you chose to rest your head against his shoulder earning a light chuckle from you. “M’ okay. Not feeling like that anymore”

“It was an adorable sight to see,” Seokjin replied, a hand rubbing up and down your back. “

You groaned wanting to throw yourself back on the couch to sleep. “Food.”

“Sure sweet girl let’s go get you some food.” It felt good to be like this with him, this natural feeling to your conversation and actions with one another. “Jimin said he wanted to tell you something.”

You nodded towards seokjin, thanking him for waking you before taking a spare seat between Jimin and Namjoon. “Feeling better?” Jimin leaned in, questioning with a smirk.

You pushed him lightly, embarrassment seeping in. “Shut up.”

“Wow someone woke up feisty.” Hoseok laughed, passing you the salad bowl. You lightly snatched it out of his hand, sticking your tongue out. You ignored his teasing as you turned to Jimin.

“Seokjin said you had something to say?” You raised an eyebrow, cutting into the steak on your plate.

“I asked Sejin if we could do the date on Wednesday, it wouldn’t interrupt with your time to be with everyone else. He said it was okay as long as you were fine with it.” He explained, filling your glass with water. “You should enjoy this time.”

Despite your grogginess and the mild irritation seeping through your bones at the teasing happening just across the table, you felt so much love and pride that these were the people you’d found yourself falling in love with. Kind-hearted and considerate.

A shy smile melted across your face, eyes softening at him. “Thank you. Seriously Jimin, that means so much to me.”

“Don’t thank me for that, there are many things you could thank me for but now that. I wish you could have us all the time. How does it really feel?” He asked, his question quite in comparison to the chatter around you.

You held the food close to your mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. “How does what feel?”

“The show, us, everything.” There was a weight to his question you were unsure if you liked.

“The show is fine, there are moments I find myself questioning why we don’t all leave just to be rid of the rules but I think the time we get with one another and of course ending the prize keeps us all here. With us I feel good, happy, I think we all have concerns about the future but apart from that I’m okay.”

He looked over you, as though hoping to deduce whether or not you were being truthful, eventually, he nodded. “I’m always here for you.”

You once again thanked him, looking down at your plate to prevent an onslaught of unwanted tears at his sudden and unexpected affection. You thanked the gods when his attention returned to his food as he began talking to Yoongi.

The meal passed quickly, everyone checking in with you now an again whenever their own conversation ended. You didn’t feel like talking much instead you opted to watch them all, Seokjin was in a heated debate with Hoseok about a game they had both played courtesy of Jungkook, eventually the younger threatening to delete their progress if they didn’t stop. It was endearing how despite being the youngest Jungkook still carried an aura of maturity to him. Namjoon had given his opinion a few times on the conversation between yoongi, taehyung and Jimin. Namjoon had asked Yoongi what it was like to be a gynaecologist and exactly why he had chosen that career, it led to yoongi explaining his entire university experience with Jimin and Taehyung asking questions in between their completely obvious game of footsies.

**The outside world wasn’t perfect, you knew that. You’d had many fights with your parents over the years about your choices at school, choosing to take art with a desire to make beautiful things in the world. Eventually, they had grown to be accepting of your “outward” choices. You found a knack for nudity, the rawness that came from seeing something in its natural element. Once or twice you’d found yourself modelling for art classes, though you’d never tell your parents that. Being an only child wasn’t easy, it was definitely lonely growing up but your parents did whatever they could to keep you entertained, they gave you everything they had and then some. You remember the conversations your mother would have with you about finding someone who brought you the same happiness you felt then, who respected you and loved you as much as they did. It was at that moment, your eyes darting from face to face you realised you’d done just that. You’d found people you could call family. **

The night passed rarely quickly, you’d offered to help clean up only to be told that Jungkook would bare the task tonight after losing a game of rock paper scissors with Hoseok. The game you once found no meaning in had become a staple for resolving issues or making decisions, although you did notice how wrong that could lead things to being. You’d enjoyed watching them all, you had laughed so much at one point after Namjoon had snorted water out of his nose when Taehyung had joked and said his cock was showing through a hole in his pants. All in all the night was perfect.

Hoseok followed through on his promise of you all sleeping in the same room in a makeshift bed, limbs entwined with one another, soft kisses and rough groping and light moans shared between you all. The day had been exhausting with the tasks earlier and then the sudden slip into sub-space. Sleep was well welcomed, and everyone slowly fell into a comforting quietness.

You once again heard sweet whispers of “goodnight.” In your ear just as the curtains of sleep converted you.

The morning started off with a bang, literally. To be more specific it started off with a very tired Namjoon knocking off 4 glasses from the shelf in an attempt to get some water. You’d all jumped up, fright and various stages of panic set across your faces as you all run to check what had happened only to be met with Namjoon shouting “Be careful, there’s glass.”

“What- who? Namjoon?” Seokjin stuttered, eyes flickering from the shards on the floor to the open cupboard. “How.”

“Well, Hyung I tried to reach back for the glass I like but then when I was pulling it out one fell and then I tried to catch the others but that led to me dropping the one I liked and then I tried to catch that one which meant all the others fell. I’m sorry it was an accident.” There was an immaturity to Namjoons clumsiness but it was something you found endearing. He was a gentle giant with no perception of his surroundings. “I’ll clean it up.” He offered shyly, about to move before Yoongi shouted to him.

“Don’t, wait there do not move.” He rushed to the door, grabbed some slippers, throwing them to Namjoon who just about caught them. “Put them on and step over here, mind the glass as much as you can. Hobi get the broom and find something to sweep it into. Everyone else go and sit in the living room, watch the floor for any shards that may have flown across the room.”

It took ten minutes before yoongi had finished cleaning up the mess, you all dispersed, heading off to brush your teeth and freshen up before returning to the living room where yoongi had been waiting waving a hand in disregard at Namjoons countless apologies. “It’s fine it’s all clean now just be careful in case of any stray shards.”

“Thanks for cleaning it Hyung. Jimin passed him a smile before winning at you.”

“There’s only one good way to spend this day.” Taehyung stood, rushing to pull yoongi to the couches.

Jimin leant forward, resting his arms on his legs. “And what’s that pup?”

“An orgy.”

“I’m in.” Jungkook responded with no hesitation, standing up as if almost to volunteer.

“I don’t see why not.” Seokjin added, nudging yoongi who sat back with a smirk across his lips, eyes twisting to something filled with lust.

Namjoon coughed, pressing his palms together. “What do you think YN?”

“I want you all. Maybe that makes me greedy but I don’t want to waste a second of this day.”

“Hobi?” You turned, facing the one who had been quietest throughout the whole discussion.

“Only if jimin goes down on me.” He laughed, a bright smile across his face however you could tell he was serious. “Are you in?”

“Please you couldn’t even last, let’s make it a real bet. I make you cum in 5 minutes and you don’t fuck anyone for a week. I lose and I’ll not fuck anyone but YN for a week.”

“Doesn’t really seem fair.” Hoseok smirked, his eyebrows raising as he seemed to have come up with another idea. “You’ll have ruined orgasms an entire week.”

“Fine whatever, not like I’m going to lose anyway.” Jimin squared his shoulders, almost as if promising he would be the lone survivor of another crazy bet.

Jungkook broke the tension as he threw down a pillow, raising a fist. “May the best cock win.”

“Jungkook no.” Yoongi laughed, the younger boy jumping from his spot only to wrap himself around the other man.

“Or what?” The younger teased, picking up the pillow from the floor. You watched as he swayed his hips at the doctor who only tightened his grip on the couch. “I don’t see you doing anything Hyung.”

“Jungkook.” Yoongis's voice was laced with an unspoken demand, it was always interesting and extremely hot to watch the little moments where they would fight for dominance considering you lived in a house with seven others you didn’t see it half as much as you would have liked to.

“I want Jinnie.” You called out, the older man’s attention on you within an instant, his body colliding with you as his lips devoured you as though he was starved. His hands were firm on your hips keeping you still as you tried to press against him.

“Let’s get these clothes out of the way baby girl, I want to see you.” He mumbled against you, barely waiting for a nod before pulling your shirt over your head, your shorts following Instantly.

He pulled you back towards the couch, pulling down his own pants before taking a seat on it, you climbed on top of him, aligning his cock with your entrance.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you slid onto his cock, his length filling you up. Your cunt stretched around his bulging cock. “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

You giggled at the compliment. “Says the literal Angel.”

“Darling if you keep complimenting me like that I’m going to “

You began riding him before he could finish his sentence, he pulled you closer, kissing you as you continued riding him. “Fuck you feel so fucking good.” He groaned, his head thrown back allowing you to leave marks up his neck.

You felt a hand in your hand pulling you back, their hand tangled in your hair. You were met with a dark-eyed yoongi. “Keep riding him.”

The command was short but it only encouraged you to grind down, riding your hips in circles as Yoongi kissed you. “Open your mouth.”

You opened your mouth, Seokjin groaning as he watched Yoongi spit into your mouth.

“Come here,” Seokjin grunted, pulling you toward his mouth. You knew what he was doing, both of you kissed tasting yoongi between you.

“Hyung.” You heard taehyung call. You turned to look, watching as taehyung fell to his knees, eagerly taking Yoongis cock down his throat. Yoongis moans and curses only turned you on more, your pussy tightening around seokjins cock.

Jin tapped your leg. “Fuck get up baby. On your hands and knees.”

You moved around, climbing onto the couch on your hands and knees, arching your back as much as possible to allow the man access to you.

You bit your lip as he slid in, his cock on the larger side making you feel stretched. “Let me hear you, baby.” He whispered in your ear, his body flush against your back as he thrusts up into you.

You pushed back against him, a growl spilling from his lips. “Fuck I love you, so perfect sweetheart, so good.”

You moaned at his sudden declaration, his cock pounding into you the lewd sounds of skin slapping echoing off the walls. “Love you my jinnie, oh- oh I’m –“

“You can hold on baby, not yet.” He grunted, pulling your hair back as he straightened up, mercilessly fucking into you as deep as possible. You felt your eyes roll back, feeling drunk from the pleasure, your body slumped the energy you had to hold yourself up drained.

You lay there for a few more seconds, incoherent mumbles and pleas slipping from your mouth hands reaching back to touch him, you felt as he slipped his hand into yours. Leaning forward once more to press kisses to your spine. “I’m going to cum.”

“Don’t…don’t pull out..” you whined, “wanna be full.”

“Whatever you want princess.” He chuckles, his voice low. He thrust a few more times before he fell forward, your orgasms hitting you at the same time. You shuffled around, managing to lay on your back as he rested between your tits. “You’re so beautiful, you did so good baby I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, his hand running up and down your tight as you watched everyone else.

Taehyung had been with Yoongi, the younger grinding down on the doctor's thigh. Lazy kisses are shared between them.

You watched as Hoseok sat on the couch beside you. Turning your attention to him as he called out a soft. “Come here.” .You shuffled over to him, legs still shaky from the orgasm Seokjin gave you. “Turn around. Let me look at you.”

You turned, facing away from him yelling as he landed an unsuspecting slap to your ass cheek, reaching down to rub the spot h before he gripped your wrist, pulling you towards him. “You look so pretty with my marks all over you. The perfect little slut.”

“Ugh- Hoseok.” You groaned out as his fingers came up to play with your nipples, alternating between pulling them and flicking them between his fingers. With a particular painful pinch, he leant closer to you. His lips right by your ear. “What was that darling?”

“Master.” You whispered, your hands squeezing his thighs as his fingers continued to tease your cunt. “Fuck please sir.”

“What’s your colour?” He asked, a moment of concern flashing over his face, only disappearing when you whine a desperate “green.”

“Tell me exactly what you want.” He rasped, his free hand coming to wrap around your throat,

Hoseok stilled your hips, essentially leaving you cock warming him as taehyung grabs your jaw, guiding your lips to his cock. “You’re going to take care of him, you’re going to stay still until he cums down your throat. If you move at all I’m going to tie you up and let everyone use you as their little glory hole for the next - well - however long they want to. After all, you love having cock in you, don’t you? In fact, that may make you a little too happy. Hm?” Hoseoks voice rasped against you, hand still firm on your chin as he suddenly thrusted into you, causing you to emit half a scream.

“Yn is so pretty for us isn’t she baby boy ?” You hear Jimin's voice sweet sounding but laced with a poison that only makes you want more, if you hadn’t known him well and been overly exposed to this side of him you’d think he was just being kind, reassuring, but from the way, Jungkooks eyes were half-lidded, his head lulling to the side as jimin continued draining his cock you could tell it was anything but kind, it was downright dangerous.

You were a little shocked to see Namjoon and Seokjin across the side of the room, seokjin underneath his younger as yoongi ran a hand through his hair, the therapist pulling seokjin to allow his back to rest against his chest whilst Namjoon continued to mark the elder, a trail of beautiful bruises already forming across his skin.

Taehyung tapped your cheek, bringing your attention back to his throbbing cock. “Open baby.”

You opened your mouth, letting your jaw go slack.

Taehyungs cock was massive, you could feel it hit the back of your throat despite the fact that half of his cock was still out of your mouth, despite your eyes watering you relaxed, breathing through your nose as you took the last of him. “Fuck your mouth is so perfect, makes my cock feel so good.” He groaned, a hand reaching to caress your hair.

Hoseok shifted underneath you, his cock massaging your walls causing you to clench around him. Utter pleasure rocked through your body as you jolted on Hoseoks cock as taehyung tucked your throat. “You’re finally being useful, taking cock so well. Maybe I’ll reward you and let you cum.” You did everything you could to restrain your hands, wanting so badly to bring yourself to the edge, the dominants filthy words going straight to your pussy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could still see jimin and Jungkook, jimin had Jungkook pinned underneath him, Jungkooks bigger frame looking so much smaller under the man as he milked his cock. Jungkook fighting underneath him from overstimulation but still taking it all. “You’re such a good boy.” Jimin had whispered, “My perfect baby boy taking whatever I give him. So perfect, think you can cum again for me?”

Jungkook let out a desperate whine, shaking his head no. “Hyun- ah, jimin please, please it’s fuck it’s too much.” He groaned, knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

“Colour baby?” Jimin asked, slowing down his strokes to brush Jungkooks hair from his eyes. “Tell Hyung.”

Jungkook jerked up, hissing as Jimins thumb ran over the slit on his tip. “G-green Hyung.”

“You look so beautiful like this, maybe I should keep you like this all too myself. Take some pretty pictures of you? Maybe I’ll come on your little cam show and remind everyone you belong to me. Make them watch as I tease your pretty cock.” Jimin squeezed around the base of Jungkooks cock, his lips morphing into a sadistic grin. “Maybe I’ll see how sensitive your balls are, I could play with them whilst I leave your cock tied up to a vibrator, if you begged enough I’d even put one inside your ass.”

“Ngh, hyu- hyung- ah- I wanna be a good boy for you.” Jungkook was beautiful, he looked ethereal with tears streaming down his face from the overwhelming pleasure jimin was delivering to him. “Feels s-so good.”

“What do you say, baby?” Jimin teased. Moving to take the youngers nipple into his mouth.

Jungkooks back arched off the couch as jimin bit down on his nipple, his hand reaching to massage the cam boy's balls. “Than- thank you jiminie.” Jimin gave his nipple one last bite before pulling off. Trailing his tongue down Jungkooks torso.

“Such a polite boy. “ jimin murmured. “I want to cum inside of you.”

“Wa-want your cock. I’ll be good pl-please I want-“ Jungkook whined. “ please.”

Jimin had met a lot of submissives, Jimin had fucked a lot of submissives but there was something about Jungkook, something about the way he whined, the way he tried so hard to keep his hands to himself, how hard he tried to do exactly what was asked of him. He was perfect. “Fuck. You’re a fucking sight to see.”

“Turn around baby boy let me prep you.” Jimin helped Jungkook move, his legs unsteady from the continuous teasing not to mention the two orgasms Jimin had already ripped from him. “Such a beautiful ass, wanna see you dressed up for me darling.” Jimin massaged Jungkooks thighs, hand edging closer to his entrance.

Jimin stepped away, earning a protesting groan from Jungkook. “Just getting lube baby. Be patient.”

Jungkooks protest silenced, looking around the room at the other house members. Each of them entwined in some way, their own pleasure being chased through various means. He looked over to you, giving you a shy smile followed by a flirty wink, his body pushing back when he felt jimin behind him once again.

You couldn’t respond to Jungkook,, taehyung still fucking your throat. Hiis thrusts becoming sloppy. “Gonna-gonna cum.” Taehyung grunted. Hand-fisting your hair becoming painful but enjoyably so.

“Did I give you permission?” You whimpered at the question, despite it being directed towards Taehyung, the man tending as to prevent himself cunning as he shook his head no. “Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll let you.”

“P-please can I cum.” He mumbled, hand still lazily caressing your hair even though he was struggling to hold back, if you weren’t dripping with arousal you may have found the action cute.

“P-please can I cum.” Hoseok mocked, laughing. “Pathetic boy. Show me how well you can cum. Show YN just how much you enjoyed using her throat.”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice, with no more than five thrusts he was on the brink of cumming, just before you could prepare to swallow you were being pulled back. Taehyung almost cried at the ruined orgasm. “B-but.”

“Ah, no buts baby. You got to cum, didn’t you? Wasn’t that nice of me?” The dominant teased, smirking. Taehyung couldn’t say no, he couldn’t deny that he got to cum. “Would you prefer next time I keep you on edge?”

Taehyungs eyes went wide, head shaking in a panic. “No Sir, thank you.”

“Good boy, you did so well.” Hoseok smiled at him, hand running through his hair as Tae sat down beside him on the couch. “Now to take care of you, darling. Do you want me to fuck you or are you at your limit?”

“I’m okay just, no more teasing please.” You whined, grinding down on his cock.

He laughed. “Too needy. I spoil you too much.”

“You don’t spoil me enough Sir.” You teased, rocking your hips. “Please fuck me?”

“Whatever you want brat.” Hoseok hooked his arms around yours, keeping you stable as he began to slide his weeping cock in and out of your cunt.

You let yourself be dragged around like a rag doll. His grip was definitely tight enough to bruise but you didn’t care as you pushed back onto him every time he thrusted, his cock ramming against your happy again and again making your legs fail underneath you. Hoseok supported the entering of your weight as you both came to a climax. “Gonna cum.” You mumbled, the words barely coherent, an orgasm brimming for the second time. “Please.”

“Cum over my cock.” he gave one final thrust against your gspot. His fingers massaged your clit, you weren’t a screamer, nor were you a squirter but you became one as his teeth sank into your shoulder. His cock pulsing inside of your pussy as he cum. “That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, your orgasms both coming to an end as he slowly pulled out of you. A hand under your chest stops you from falling face-first onto the floor as your legs have out. “Can you stand for me, baby?”

You shook your head no. “Not after you and seokjin fucking me.”

“Ah yes, the two biggest cocks.” He laughed, guiding you to sit on the couch. “Taehyungie could you go and get a wet cloth for YN?”

You’d almost forgotten his presence, turning to look at the man, his face utterly relaxed. “Okay.”

“You did so good today darling you were so patient, I’ll miss our scenes together.” He frowned a little, making you smile.

“Only a few more weeks, besides I’m sure jimin will let you watch whenever he and I have one.” You knew what the comment would do to him, seeing his scowl you held your hands up half-heartedly in defence. “Kidding.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He half-panted, taking the wet cloth from taehyung and bringing it to clean you up.

“There’s definitely cum on the couch.” You heard yoongi mumbling, he was sprawled out on the floor, seokjin beside him. Your face flushed at the sight of them noticing your eyes lingering on them. Between all eight of you, there wasn’t a single piece of clothing in sight. Jimin and Jungkook sat across from you, Jungkook cradled in Jimins arms, both of them seemingly somewhere else.

Taehyung was right, an orgy was a great way to spend the day.

—————

“I wanted to talk to you all about something.” Jungkook mumbled, his eyes focused on the window as though he was too afraid to meet anyone’s gaze. The attention shifted to him instantly. “I was thinking about it actually.”

Everyone had gone to shower, you had the pleasure of sharing yours with Seokjin and Taehyung. Both men insisting on taking care of you, definitely a form of repayment for the way they temporarily affected your ability to walk. The rest of the day had been spent playing board games, light kisses being shared between everyone, the touching non-stop. The atmosphere was calm so Jungkooks urgent demeanour had you worried.

“What’s wrong baby?” Jimins voice was tired, clearly, the sex knocking out any residual energy he had. “Talk to us.”

“What if we live together after here? We worked well being here together I have some savings we could pitch in and get a place together somewhere equal to where you all work. I was thinking about moving to Seoul permanently, I couldn’t be without you all. I know it would take a lot of time and wouldn’t be an easy decision I don’t know maybe this is a ridiculously childish idea, tae is here, Namjoonie Hyung is here, hobi Hyung is here, YN is here, yoongi Hyung could move we could all help him, jimin Hyung could move too it would be perfect.”

“Kook that’s… big.” Yoongi breathed, arm tightening around jimin. “I think we would all really need to talk about it. Jimin what would you think about moving?”

Jimin shrugged, hand grazing through the maknaes hair. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it I’d have to find work here but I wouldn’t be opposed. My life in Busan seems small compared to what we all have here.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look at jobs around here, Hyung do you have any contacts here in Seoul?” Yoongi shifted to face Seokjin who was sitting with a grim across his red raw lips.

“I do, a few actually. I could pass you their contact information.”

“Hobi what do you think?” You sat up, looking at the man who had been quiet throughout the whole exchange.

“Well you all know I’m aro so I don’t see-“

His words are cut off by taehyung placing a hand across his mouth abruptly, slightly shocking the man. “If you say something like “I don’t see why you’d want me there” I will make sure no one has sex with you for the rest of the time here. You are just as much a part of us as Namjoon Hyung or Yoongi Hyung. Whether it’s romantic or not you have just as much of an invitation as everyone else here does. This is your choice too.”

“Oh.” The dominant breathed, a rand running over his face as though to refresh himself, he sat for a few minutes eyes filtering from one body to the next before he smiled, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind it, besides having roommates would be kind of fun.”

“YN?” Taehyung called tentatively, reaching to wrap your hand in his. “What do you think pretty?”

You blushed at the unfamiliar pet name, your cheeks a light hue of red. “I want you all, maybe I’m spoiled but if we could all be together in one house like this for as long as we stay together I’d love that. It would be just like this without the cameras.”

“So what does this mean? Are we officially in a relationship and planning to move in?”

You show a look to Hoseok who seemed to frown slightly at the mention of being in a relationship. “How about we don’t call it that.”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows pinched.

You shook your head laughing. “Let’s not call it a relationship, we all have our own dynamics with each other but we are all entwined like some old tree with a thousand branches. I think we would need a week of planning to officially label everything between each and every one of us so why don’t we call it something else? Something inclusive.”

“I think that sounds better, we aren’t just a relationship, we also have Hoseok-ah to consider.” Seokjin spoke up, his words were always filled with care for those around him whilst simultaneously being filled with knowledge and understanding.

“What about affinity? We could say we are in an affinity.” Yoongi supplied, some smiles being traded across the room.

“Why affinity?” Jungkook questioned, head resting against Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin kisses his hair. His hand linking their fingers as he began to explain. “Affinity has a beautiful definition, it is a word used to say you have a deep understanding of someone, a similarity and a kinship to them. It’s basically the description of a bond without labelling it as such.”

“I like that.” He breathed, eyes closing before opening them again as though he has remembered something important. “You’re all mine though.”

“Even you my hobi Hyung.” He giggled, reaching a foot out to touch the other's leg.

“Move your weird toes from me right now.” He shouted, arms waving as Jungkook sunk down further, toes reaching across as far as he could.

“What’s the matter Hyung it’s just feet. I pegged you as a foot kink man.” Jimin giggled, everyone, pausing at the honorific before turning back to a mildly disturbed Hoseok.

“Shut up jimin, Jungkook move if you want to keep your toes.”

“Jin Hyung where is your knife.” He shouted, tramping towards the kitchen before yoongi could grab his waist, pulling him onto the pile of pillows beside him. “Calm down there sunshine let’s not decapitate anyone’s toes today.”

Hoseok shot him a glare as if to say he would be next if he didn’t stop talking. Yoongi laughed, muffling it with a cough. “Well then, affinity it is.”

“I love you all so much.” You brushed away the tears dampening your cheek, happiness overwhelming you. A few “I love yous.” Resounded back followed by a few kisses shared between different bodies. Hoseok looking content but also out of place. You shuffled closer to him as he removed himself from between Seokjin and Yoongi. You reached out your hand, just enough for him to wrap his little finger around yours and with that you spoke a silent promise.

You’d do whatever you could to keep them all happy.

You were more than content watching them break off into their own smaller conversations as you all set up for the night in the makeshift bed. Thankful for jimins suggestion to recreate the bed from the night before. You didn’t know how long you’d watched them for but your eyes became droopy, their voices guiding you into a blissful sleep.

Jimin and Jungkook watched you drift off, arms and legs a tangled heap. “How was it today baby?” Jimin turned to Jungkook, his fingers drawing patterns on the cam Boys thigh.

The younger sat, contemplating the entirety “Good, was a lot but good.”

“That makes me happy to hear, you were really serious about wanting us all weren’t you bun?” Jimin smiled, his eyes bright.

Jungkook blushed, nodding. “I just really love you all. I still want to get to know everyone. Even you Hyung.”

“What if you tell me something about you and I’ll tell you something about me? We can start learning right now.” Jimin offered, earning a pleased look from Jungkook.

“I really like toe socks,” Jungkook responded wholeheartedly, as though it was his biggest secret. Jimin couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, lightly pushing the younger.

“THAT’S your thing? I might just have to call it all off now, that’s definitely a deal breaker.” Jimin loved to tease, especially when it made the man he had begun to love smile like that. “They are actually good for you. I would say my thing is” he paused, wanting to give something equal to Jungkooks revelation. “If I ever have a bad day, I always drink hot chocolate.”

“If you ever seem sad I’ll make you one, I make good hot chocolates.” Jungkook smiled storing the fact away for when it was most necessary. “One more?” He raised an eyebrow, only continuing to talk once jimin has nodded. “I love being a cam boy but I also want to do more, something mentally.” Jungkook confessed. Jimin could understand that.

“I love being a porn star but I want to find what else there is in the world, I want to grow.” He had the same feeling, wanting to do something that didn’t require his body, not that he didn’t enjoy his work and held no embarrassment over it, in fact, he was fiercely proud but he always wanted to find what else in the world would be good for him.

“Maybe we can find things together?” Jungkook mumbled, hand reaching up to play with Jimins hair.

“I’d like that.” Jimin smiled, leaning down to break the space between them to give the younger a kiss, relishing in the small whimper Jungkook let out when he bit down on his lip. “Let’s get sleep baby boy.”

“Goodnight Hyung.”

“Goodnight jungkookie.”

——

Yoongi hated being woke up, Yoongi hated being waken up at 3 am, Yoongi hated being waken up by 3 am by a half-naked Jimin, although that may have been more so because of the fact he was far too tired to fully appreciate the youngers body.

“What jimin,” Yoongi grumbled, burying his head into another pillow.

He could have used that said pillow to hit the other when he grabbed his arm pulling him away from the comforts of the makeshift floor bed. “I need to talk to you Hyung.”

“Can't it wait until the morning?” Yoongi sighed, still following the dominant hand in hand.

“Nope.” Jimin popped his lips, the sound definitely would have gone straight to yoongis dick if he wasn’t half asleep.

Once they were both safely inside Yoongi's bedroom jimin pulled him to sit on the bed. “Are you really thinking about moving?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t see why not, I love Daegu but I love being with you all too.”

“Hyung,” Jimin called out, his hand reaching to touch Yoongis fingers before retreating. “You’re more reserved, not reserved but you, you show your love differently and it’s, I guess sometimes I feel lonely in that.”

“You aren’t lonely jimin-ah we are all here for you. If there’s something you need to talk about we will all listen.” Yoongi reassured him, his own hand edging closer to the other. “Talk to Hyung.”

Jimin stirred for a moment, he liked that. Weirdly, he liked how that felt. “I wouldn’t have much in Seoul. All my clients are around Busan. What if this doesn’t work outside of here and I take that step and it falls apart?”

Yoongi sat for a moment, breath heavy. “We can’t tell the future but sometimes things have to start with a simple step. You don’t lose things by loving you lose things by not taking risks. Getting into the prom industry definitely wasn’t easy right?” Yoongi paused giving Jimin a chance to respond, which he did with a nod. “That’s my point, you took a chance and it worked out well for you. If you find there’s something you want to do more then you should go for that too. We don’t ever grow by limiting ourselves to one thing forever, taking risks is a part of life, it’s a part of humans. We will fail and succeed but every attempt is worth it.”

Jimin didn’t realise just how much he needed to hear that, just how much the words would hit him where he was most needing it but it did, the porn industry allowed you to meet tons of people, people you would get intimate with and people you wouldn’t but very rarely was there any personal connection. He hadn’t realised how lonely he become until he was surrounded by people who cared for him, knew him, wanted him. Not just for a scene or a chance at getting known in the community but wanted him for him.

Before Yoongi could process the situation Jimin was lunging forward, pulling him into a hug. A small sob spilt from his lips as he whispered “Thank you Hyung.”

Yoongi had never heard Jimin cry, he had never had to hug him like this. He pulled the younger away, wiping his tears from his soft cheeks. Yoongi didn’t know jimin deeply but he loved him, he loved him the way he loved seokjin or the way he loved YN. Yoongi loved jimin enough to bring his hand to cup his face, pulling him closer to him. Jimin whined lightly as yoongi kissed him with all the energy he could muster. “Let Hyung take care of you.”

“Okay. Hyung can take care of me.” Jimin rasped, falling back into the bed, his elder there to catch him. Yoongi would always be there to catch Jimin, to catch all of them.

This was his family.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Hello once more !

I’m so sorry for what is happening to you and for that I’m beginning this ask by sending you a hug, love and good vibes *send all this* (am too lazy to write again beteen the Astérix, *asterisk* sorry 😅). And to top it all, let me share this cute idea I had with my favourite ship(among all the other cool one your wonderful brain spat out) of yours), Feducia! So I was listening to the song « Je reviendrai vers toi » (the French version of This is Where I Belong) from the movie Spirit the Stallion of the Cimarron and I thought the lyrics were fitting so well for these two whenever Federico was away on mission and was longing to come back to his dearest Lucia.

(Here are the English lyrics so you can actually understand what they say, might be a good idea 😅)

“I hear the wind across the plain

A sound so strong that calls my name

It's wild like the river, it's warm like the sun

Yeah, it's here, this is where I belong

Under the starry skies where eagles have flown

This place is paradise, it's the place I call home

The moon on the mountains

The whisper through the trees

The waves on the water

Let nothing come between this and me

'Cause everything I want is everything that's here

And when we're all together, there's nothing to fear

And wherever I wander, the one thing I've learned

It's to here, I will always, always return”

I can just imagine (let’s pretend that he already briefed the Brotherhood Mentore abt the outcome of his mission, whom (we pretend) Ezio was already trained under so he (Ezio) could then proceed to succeed him and further strengthen/ rebuild the Italian Brotherhood and still become the sexy hoe- I mean legendary assassin- that he is)

And I put /…/ before and after the parts I modified the lyrics so it could fit the narrative and I framed the actual lyrics parts with “”

Ok here we go:

Federico was urging his horse to run faster and faster to get back to Firenze with a single goal in mind – ok maybe he was exaggerating bc he still cared and surveyed not to be caught otherwise the whole point of getting back– (he was getting distracted, focus Federico just focus you’re almost there, *yeah “almost” is a bit of an euphemism no?* Shut up logic.) Nonetheless, it felt as if the very wind was carrying the voice of the one he loved above all and it was “A sound so strong that /called his/ name”, urging him all the more to come back to his home city. When he finally arrived to Firenze, he jumped off his steed mid run (‘cause he is a badass and idc if this is unrealistic), trusting that it would return safely to the right destination, and then proceeded to speed free run (can I even say that?, anyway) and scurrying across the rooftops so he could reach his destination as fast as possible with all the caution he had been drilled to act on as an assassin. He also did so bc he was just hi to do so after the unending (what do you mean dramatic, he would like to let you know that Ezio was dramatic one not him, AND he had a very valid reason to qualify this ride as such) horse ride (‘cause lets face it that boy is fast and we already determined he like to climb around as much as his brother does and I can imagine his physic is leaner than Ezio’s so he could very much pull off a scurrying level of speed lol). He finally reached his goal, and his breath was cut once more, as if he saw her for the first time all over again, for there she stood, bathed in the barest streak of gold painting the horizon announcing the beginning of a new day, his lady love, his world, his Lucia. After a moment of two, he shook himself out of his contemplation, although he knew there would soon be contemplation of a much more thorough kind, he climbed through the window so he could join his home at last. For as much as she was the sun in the horizon, the fairest and wonderful lady no man could ever describe in words of poetry, Lucia was his home. Ot was also at this moment that his fair lady-sun remarked his presence and exclaimed “Oh Federico…You’re home !” (Tell me if you catch the ref here hehehe) and all but leaped into his arms. Later, much later, at night in fact, after aforementioned thorough contemplation, Federico laid there with Lucia cradled and asleep in his warm embrace. The cry of an eagle somewhere above the roof reminding him that “Under the starry skies where eagles have flown

This place is paradise, it's the place he called home

‘Cause everything he wanted is everything that's here

And when we're all together, there's nothing to fear

And wherever /he wandered/, the one thing /he’d/ learned

It's to here, /he/ will always, always return”.

Have a nice rest of the day, I wish you the next to be better (and I hope my newest brick of an ask will please you lol)

All the love,

- Hello Anon

NONNIE.

NONNIE, OMG.

ok, first of all, where are my manners, lemme give you some fresh lemonade and a piece of cake to replenish your energies after writing this BEAUTIFUL ask.

NONNIE.

THIS.

ALL OF THIS, OH MY GODS.

I think I might have rearead something like 15 times before I actually managed to calm myself enough so that I could sit down and PROPERLY WRITE YOU BACK.

THE TEARS I HAD READING THIS.

THE BOUTS OF LAUGHTER AT FEDERICO´S OWN BEHAVIOUR (dear gods, I love and adore that he literally jumped off the horse mid-run. Like, if Lucia were ever to know that he was so reckless JUST BECAUSE he was in a hurry to see her, she would pull his ear, but to me it was giving

Just running and then jump off!!

AND OMG THAT LAST PART YOU WROTE, THE ONE WHERE HE WOULD BE IN BED, CRADLING HIS DARLING ASLEEP LUCIA IN HIS ARMS

JSDGBFHIAMKPODTJIHBJF VMKSOFIGDH

Listen, I have A HUGE THING for drawing lovers asleep in one another's arms (infact I do have a Mephistea one in the making fml),because to me there is NOTHING -like N-O-T-H-I-N-G- more beautiful than being able to sleep soundly in the arms of the person you love and trust the most in world (could be because I often suffer from terrifying vividly dreams that wakes me up with heart just racing, so that's the only way that I can manage to actually get back to sleep lololol but I am digressing) . SO, NOW I NEED TO DRAW A FEDE AND LUCIA ONE, WHERE THEY ARE TOGETHER IN BED FML.

Lemme turn on my tablet just a moment.

Lemme sketch down this.

NONNIE.

YOU HAVE FILLED MY HEART WITH JOY THIS MORNING, AND I THANK YOU KINDLY FOR THIS UNEXPECTED GIFT THAT I FOUND IN MY INBOX.

THANK YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART.

This will end up straight straight in my special notebook, where I keep all the sweet things that friends have done for me, and where I keep all that makes me happy <3

TRULY THANK YOU <3

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Invisible, tugging strings, Pt. 2

Happy Easter Monday!

When - Right after Invisible, tugging strings Part 1, which you gotta read first

We’ve made it to the Chupacabra episode of Season 2, y’all! 

What - our mangy hick does his best to make it home after falling down the ridge twice and hallucinating You and Merle. Back at the farm where you are, you just want him back safe and want to know why. You. Are. So. Worried. About. Daryl?

Who - The Slowpoke Series means a slow cooking, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. Daryl and Merle’s scenes take place in this one, and I can only hope I was able to do it adequate justice. I admire how the show did that part of the episode. We also have platonic Glenn, Dale, and big bro Shane.

Perspective - 2nd you, 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - neutral again, why not?

TWs - cussing, injury (and pictures from the episode showing Daryl looking nasty as well as some where Rick and T-Dog were sprayed with so much water to show sweat), and Merle’s dialogue is left word for word; he says the n-word. Two asterisks were used instead of spelling it. I ain’t writing that word.

Word count - same as Part 1 (give yourselves 15 minutes, 4,000ish words)

Stuff to read first - gotta read ’em all! It would help contextualize to first read A measure of reverence Parts 1 and 2, but you’ll be okay so long as you’ve read souls stripped bare and Invisible, tugging strings Part 1.

Why are so many of your stories two-parters? - it’s how it be, slowpokes

Are there many lame screenshots this time? - too many

Can I check out the Masterlist? - please do! There’s the official Masterlist here in purposeful nonlinear publishing (which also includes the Reader Requests), and the purely chronological one here. They both have the same Slowpoke stories, just in a somewhat different order :)

This is the third time uploading this one, y’all, and the maturity label (updated July 2023) was cleared about 8 times, but the algorithm keeps insisting it’s mature and reverting it back lol. When I got a human response from the help desk, they mentioned it was a glitch. C’est la vie, it’s kinda a bummer not more people will read this chapter, but it was still fun to write!

Happy Easter Monday!

As always, feedback in some way is very, very welcome.

...............................................

It felt so much better to keep his eyes closed, but someone’s standing over him now. Must be whoever Y/N said would help him get up.

What was that they said about ‘missing’ and ‘bully?’

He strains to get his eyes open so he can see whoever is above him. His eyelids feel so damned heavy, man, he just wants to close them again.  

All he can see is the green of the treetops at first. The outline of a person’s head come into view once his vision stops being blurry. Then it clears.

A smile finds its way to the corners of his mouth. He’s missed him. Felt so lost and out of place without him. His own blood.

“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better.”

Yeah, that was him alright. He’s missed him so much.

“Merle.”

...........................................

And Merle’s got that grin that means he’s about to rib him. “What’s going on here? You takin’ a siesta or something?”

“Having a shitty day, bro,” he croaks back. If he was able to, he’d full-on hug his brother right now. Nah, for real, he’d hug him!

Merle smirks and shakes his head slightly. “Like me to get you a pillow? Maybe rub your feet?”

The comfort or whatever it was that Daryl had upon seeing and hearing his brother again starts to twist, only a tiny bit. He’s not super serious when he offers back, “Screw you.”

His big brother ain’t taking no lip, though. “Nuh-uh. You’re the one who’s screwed, from the looks of it.”  

Ha, ‘screwed.’ Because the bolt is screwed in his side, funny stuff.

Daryl starts to grin through the pain at the stupid joke when his big brother lets this fly: “All them years trying to make a man out of you, this what I get?”

The tugging in his chest tries to pull him up as Y/N’s words come back and echo in his mind. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Merle’s stare works its way up and down. Daryl feels like trash.

Gets called it the next second; “Look at you. Lyin’ in the dirt like a used rubber. You’re gonna die out here, little brother, next to your own puke. And for what?”

“A girl,” is all he can answer at first, it’s all that comes out. Before Merle can tell him he’s a whipped retard being lead by the dick if he was doing all this for some chick, he explains, “They lost a little girl.”  

See, Merle? It’s worth it, it’s worth all of this. She’s just a little kid, her mama needs her. Remember her, the little scared girl, with the scared ma with buzzed hair? How much you wanted to shiv the dad’s potbelly?

But all his brother tosses back is “So you got a thing for little girls, now?”

“Shut up.” Joking about stuff like that ain’t funny, it’s messed up.  

Then, he remembers it’s all in his head; Merle isn’t really here. Which means he’s the asshole dreaming up his big brother mouthing off like this. But the imaginary knee doesn’t wham his nards about it, because it’s…stuff his brother would say.  

Doesn’t mean the guilt doesn’t knee him good regardless when his own blood reminds him, “’Cause I noticed, you ain’t out there looking for old Merle no more.”

That ain’t fair. “Tried like hell to find you, bro,” is all he can manage to voice out loud. But you were gone. Merle, I came back for you—where’d you go? Why’d you split, didn’t you know I’d come?

“Like hell you did,” his brother grates. “You split, man, lit out first chance you got.”

What? “You lit out. All you had to do was wait.” You didn’t trust your own kin. Is it that I’m not good enough or not smart enough? I could have saved you, and your damn hand. “We went back for you. Rick and I.” He finds himself nodding as much as he’s able, because he knows he did right. “We did right by you.” Even T-Dog tried to save your ass, bro. Even him, even Glenn.

“This the same Rick that cuffed me to that rooftop in the first place?” Merle points out. “Forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we’re talkin’ about, now?”

Daryl lowers his gaze as best he can – to see his brother’s hands both still attached. As he stares him down, Merle wiggles his pinkie as if to remind Daryl that he’s just part of his imagination, not real. Then his brother’s glare turns mocking. “You his bitch now?”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.” He loves his big brother, but goddamn, there’s no one else that can make him feel so small.

“You’re a joke, is what you are. Playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, n**gers, and Democrats.”

Another sharp tug in his chest. That word never really bothered him before, but it kinda does now.

And he can’t help but think of how much red Y/N would see at hearing Merle use it. They’d probably huff, start clawing, then after they’d calmed down, start griping about how damn cartoonish Merle sounded spouting that stuff. He can almost hear it now: “That whole sentence sounded like some lazy Hollywood type wrote a script for a ‘stereotype, blue-collar, Dixie racist,’ to make themselves feel good. Nobody talks like that, good Moses.”  

Their words from earlier repeat in his mind again. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Then, he remembers again that it’s all in his head; he’s the piece of shit cooking this up. All of this weird shit, it’s all from his messed up, trailer trash excuse for an imagination.

“You’re nothing but a freak to them,” his hears his brother tell him.

Maybe Y/N’s words were “cruel don’t mean true,” but that doesn’t mean ‘cruel’ is ‘dishonest.’ At least cold, honest truth is truth.

“Redneck trash. That’s all you are,” Merle goes on.

And Daryl knows it. It ain’t cruelty, it’s honesty. He’s got balls big enough to handle it.

Y/N’s words grow softer, sadder. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

His brother’s voice is louder, angrier. “They’re laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don’t you?”  

Daryl knows that, too. No point in denying it.  

…Except maybe a little. ’Cause Y/N wouldn’t, they’re an actual friend. “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.” “Daryl, may I hug you again?” Nah, two-faced ain’t their style.  

Carol wouldn’t neither, the woman’s too gentle for her own good. “Please be safe. I’ll be praying for you.”  

Even T-Dog, that dude’s always been decent to him. So has the old man…and the boy…Andrea…Glenn…Lori, Rick, even Shane…

…And it’s as if Merle can hear those doubts. “I got a little news for you, son. One day, they gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dogshit.”

Merle’s right, he knows. He knows that he’s dogshit, he knows…he…he just needs to close his eyes, it all hurts less when his eyes are shut. His body feels so heavy…

The blessed dark takes over, and a voice that makes him feel safe hushes, “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“Hey.” Merle jostles him back awake.  

Wanting to do nothing less but knowing he’s got to, Daryl strains to open his eyes again. When his vision clears, he sees disapproval warping his brother’s face, just like he’d feared.

“They ain’t your kin. Your blood. Hell, if you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me.” With a nod, his big brother then bends down and takes Daryl’s chin in his hand. His glare turns worried and his eyes turn sad, even if the words coming from his mouth don’t match it.

“Now you listen to me: ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother. Ain’t nobody ever will.”

He knows. Without Merle, Daryl was always alone…he can’t keep his eyes open, they keep falling shut…

But his brother stops him from falling asleep again by gently tapping his chest.

In his tough-love way that Daryl’s missed, he finally sounds like he cares. “No, come on. Get up on your feet, before I have to kick your teeth in.”

Merle is standing over him now and gives his feet a light kick. “Let’s go.” He crouches back down and pulls at Daryl’s feet. “Let’s go.”

His brother goes too low for Daryl to see him without craning his neck, and something weird begins happening to his big brother’s voice. It’s fading.

Soon, all that Daryl can make out is a rasping sound almost as if there’s a dog by his feet. Maybe there is a dog at his feet, because something keeps pulling at them.

What if it’s a chupacabra?

Mild fear grips him and he manages to swing his head down enough to see what’s going on so he can close his eyes again.

And he’s met with a geek trying to gnaw through his goddamned shoe.

......................................

You

Back inside, you get another dose of dread so strong you feel like you’re hooked up to an IV line like Carl was a half-hour ago.

Daryl needs help.

“Y/N, are you gonna faint again?”

You smile and shake your head as you get a hold of your emotions and send up a prayer. “The caffeine crash after the espresso thing this morning is throwin’ me for a loop.”

“What’s it doing?”

“I just got sucker-punched in the gut with this random sense of dread.”

“Creepy,” he muses.

“Very.”

“And coffee tastes so gross.”

“Bitter, blackish-brown water tastes gross?”

He giggles, and the dread within you eases.  

Keep him safe and get him home, please. Get our mangy hick back home.

......................................  

Him

He’d fought off the one, then another made its way to him. He ain’t sure how he got the strength to do it, but he’s still breathing. No bites, neither.

He’s back on the ground, laying there and staring at the leaves and branches and clouds as he catches his breath.

Thank you, he offers to whatever might be up there. Thank you.

He doesn’t stay that way too long, the warm trickling from his side urges him to get up. Something in his head had shrieked at him to rip the bolt out. It ended up saving his life.

His fingers are numb and shaking from the adrenaline, but he’s able to sit up and re-tie the his ripped shirt to get the wound bound tight. He remembers how Merle’s (or were they his own?) first words to him were about getting it out.

“Son of a bitch was right,” he grumbles to himself.

Next, he stumbles over the the doll and secures it in his belt, then he stomps over to where he sees the green little walkie chilling on the water, slides it into his pocket after clicking it off and on and getting nothing.

Guess he’s on his own.

He’s so damned woozy, man, and his stomach’s ready to lurch again.  

Food. He, um, he just needs food, yeah. He needs to find him a fucking, uh, something—a squirrel or something. Yeah, squirrel’s got blood in them, and he’s lost a lot of blood by the looks of it.

How does he do that again, get one of them teeny guys? Does he make a snare or like, shoot—wait, yeah, he’s gotta shoot one. Gotta shoot one of them slippery ’lil sumbitches.

Oh shit, yeah, first he gotta rinse off the bolts, haha. Hot damn, he feels so weird like he’s on a bad trip or hangover or some shit right now.  

As for those two undead, poxy bastards what tried to do him in? Up theirs — he’s gonna slice off their ears like they was bounties and wear them, see if any more wanna mess with him!

......................................  

You

“That was risky.”

“We did it for them,” you remind your brother of your middle sister’s family and the way you’d put them down given them their final rest, then buried them.

“They was family, and it was risky.”

“Today was just one last measure of reverence for a family who’d been put through hell at the end.”

“And now you’ve got an arm out of commission,” he states, clearly displeased. “Did you bury the ones who broke in, too?”

“Yes.”

Shane’s reaction to your affirmation isn’t what you are expecting. You were expecting more disapproval.

Instead, his eyes get wet and he pulls you close to kiss your forehead and says nothing else. He just curls his arm around your shoulder and gazes into the fields.

Your brother seems more like himself, now. You can see him again.

In the quiet, you listen to the mooing of cows in the distance, the flies buzzing, the chickens, the faint murmur of voices from the campsite and house.

“Shane? Tomorrow, teach me how to fight back even with my dominant arm out. So long as you button your dang shirt up tomorrow.”

Cracking up, he floofs out his (ugh) unbuttoned shirt to rub it in. “Deal, you got it. First reasonable thing I done heard all afternoon.”

“Now, be on your best behavior when I tell you somethin’, loser.”

Half-worried, half-teasing, he asks, “Well, what’s the somethin’, weirdo?”

You’re almost nervous when you quietly share, “We found something might could’ve been a sign of Sophia.”

He makes a sigh. “What might that could’ve been?”

“The shed had a small, hidden, makeshift sleeping area?”

He shifts. His brows push close. Turns his head to look at you. “You serious?”

“Dead seri—no, no, wrong phrase, wrong phrase!”

He just cracks up and shakes his head.  

Then he says what you really wish he wouldn’t. “You sure it wasn’t from the kids who lived there?”

Shane, stop, please stop. You shrug his arm off. “There weren’t spiders in it, spiders would’ve holed up in there right quick, like within three days.”

“It’s something, I’ll give it that.” There’s a ‘but’ coming. “Y/N, even if she was there a day or two ago, it still don’t mean she’s still alive now. It’s been four days.”

“I know.”

Shane does a double-take as if he’s struggling between how to respond. “I mean, I hope she is, you know that, Y/N, I ain’t—” He licks his teeth and rubs his peach-fuzz. “But let’s be clear: riskin’ our necks for this will lead to more of the same. Carl was shot, Y/N, he almost died and you got bullet fragments right along with him, Otis is dead, you’re injured, T-Dog is injured, I’m injured—” He stops himself from whatever else he was going to say.

There’s a flock of birds soaring overhead. You gaze at them, them stare into space as you rub your chest again to dispel the fear that Daryl will be the next statistic.

“Y/N, I’m glad you got home okay.”

“I’m glad you did, too.”

He hums and looks over. “Where’s Daryl at?”

“He dropped me off. I-I wasn’t able to climb up the ridge, not with this.” You nod at your slinged arm and feel a twinge of guilt that you’re hiding your resewn sutures from him.

“Fool idea to go back by himself,” he mutters.

You don’t disgree. “I keep worryin’ about it.”

“Nah, don’t.” Shane wraps his arm back around you. “That sumbitch will outlive us all.”

At that, you can’t help but grin. “Probably.”

......................................

Him

This ridge is about to be his bitch! Just a few more feet, and he’ll make it to the top! (So long as he don’t screw up at the finish line like last time.)

All he needs to do is catch his breath, get some strength back. It’s like he’s floating in air but is made of lead at the same time. Weird shit, right?

Daryl turns to face out. The light kinda hurts right now, but he sees some birds. Almost smiles at them. If it were only that easy to get up and go huh? His body just ain’t doing what he wants it to right now.

“Please. Don’t feed the birds,” sounds from above him, snapping him out of it.

He turns to look at who—shit, Merle’s back. Daryl’s caught between wanting him and wanting gone.

Of course Merle would catch him taking a break and staring at birds like a little sissy instead of powering through, great. Real fucking great, now his brother’s laughing at him.

Go, go, go, get your lazy ass up there and show him — ow, goddamn, it hurts so bad!  

“Aw, what’s the matter, Darylina? That all you got in you?

He tries to climb all the faster and harder. Screw you.

His big brother isn’t done. “Throw away that purse and climb.”

As Daryl does his best to get a strong grip on the roots so he can hoist himself up, something within him breaks and reverses. He’s just so tried, so dizzy, so nauseous, in so much pain and so angry. “I liked you better when you was missing,” he rasps.

Merle just snickers. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m on your side.”

Bullshit. “Yeah? Since when?”

“Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass.”

The string in his chest tugs, hard. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

If there’s one thing he hates, it’s lies. And he sure as shit knows Merle did not look after him or his worthless ass, he’s got the scars to prove it. “You never took care of me,” he grits out, using a root as a foothold and a thick, woody vine as a grip to climb. “You talk a big game, but you was never there.” Then, he remembers, “Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change.”

“Well, I tell you what: I’m as real as your chupacabra.”

“I know what I saw!”

“And I’m sure those shrooms you ate had nothin’ to do with it, right?”

“You best shut the hell up!” Daryl shouts back, so angry and he-doesn’t-know-what-else that the searing pain in his side and head meld into a dull thumping.

His brother who isn’t even there starts to mock him harder, laughing at him and mimicking his voice. “Or whaaaat? You’re gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me?”

Damn right, I will. Gonna kick your teeth in.

“Well, come on and do it then, if you think you’re man enough.”

Stop laughing, jackass.

“Hey! Kick off them high heels and climb, son!”

Come on, climb! Get your ass up there, shut him up!

“You know what? If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. ’Cause I just don’t think you gonna make it to the top.”

He keeps laughing, make him stop laughing. Daryl lunges upward and reaches for the summit so enraged he can barely think straight.

Or maybe he just can’t think straight right now?

“Come on, come on, little brother,” Merle coos, holding out his hand as his strange, creepy laughter abruptly stops. His expression turns icy. “Grab your friend Rick’s hand.”

For real, maybe Daryl can’t think straight.

Or see straight. Because he finally got his ass over the ridge, but where the hell did his big brother go? Did Merle light out again, run off? Huh?

Fucking typical!

He can’t seem to keep his balance as he screams into the trees, “Yeah, you better run!”

......................................  

You

It’s sunset, where the heck is he? All around the treeline and road where he’ll most likely be riding back, you scour through Dale’s binoculars. The walkie has still proven useless, he hasn’t answered.

“Daryl’s spent a night out by himself before.”

Not since the quarry, though, Andrea. “You’re right. He’s prolly fine, I know, I’m-I’m in a weird mood today.”

For some dumb reason, you want the med bag. Cautiously climbing down the RV one-armed, you reason that maybe you’ll feel more in-control of you’re holding it? And you’ll grab Andrea the bottle of sunscreen while you’re in there.

You begin to knock on the door, but the door as well as Glenn bang into you before you’ve knocked twice.

“Ow!”

“Shoot, sorry, Y/N! Did I—did I just make your stitches worse?”

“Shh!” you hiss as quietly as you can. “Shane’s right over there!”

“Kiddo, are you alright?”

Pressing your finger to your lips to tell Dale it’s fine, please stop, you mutter to Glenn, “The door rammed into my bum shoulder, which is directly over them.” And it smarts bad, like, what the hell, man? “You really stormed out of there without noticin’ a body in front of the door?”  

Your friend covers his face with his hand and whispers several apologies within the course of a few seconds.

“Glenn, why does Dale look like he’s trying not to look upset?” you challenge. You’re still roiling after he whammed into your bad side, and seeing Dale upset was even worse.

“I was just returning that crappy book and I—” Glenn gets quiet. “—I-I told him about Maggie,” he confesses under his breath.

Great, more drama. “Well, I’m just here for the med bag and to grab some sunscreen for Andy,” you mutter. It doesn’t come out remotely friendly, not when your injuries just got whammed in the exact spot they ache.

He apologizes again, you check yourself and forgive him (and call him a buttface). He calls you a bumpkin, which makes you snort even while you’re feeling huffy, and he walks toward the tents.

Rubbing the tugging part of your chest that hasn’t let up for at least 20 minutes now, you accept the med bag Dale was kind enough to grab for you. “Should you be carrying that, Y/N? It’s on the heavier side.”

“I just feel like I should be holdin’ it, I dunno.”

He raises his brows but doesn’t protest. Then they furrow very low on his face and he asks, “You seem like you’re becoming friends with this Maggie.”

“It’ll be okay, Dale.”

His brows lift again briefly before resting in a normal position. “I’m simply glad that you seem to have a kind of rapport with the family here, a, um, mutual friendliness.” He gestures out the window. “It is a very good thing when our situation, however short-lived it may be, is somewhat delicate.”

“We’ll all turn into friends soon enough. You’d really get on with Mr. Greene.”

“Because we’re both old men?”

“Mhm, antique.” You shoulder the med bag on your good side and catch eyes with your brother. Shane mouths “Why do you got that?” but you’re unable to respond because Andrea suddenly shouts, “Walker. Walker!”

The surge of adrenaline shivers into your body and you peer at the treeline where she’s pointing.

This hasn’t happened here yet.

Then the words Patricia asked a few hours ago come to mind. “Any walkers you find on our property, tell us. Don’t do nothing, just tell us first.”

“Shane, don’t put it down, we need to get Mr. Greene.”

“Huh?” is his only response as he limps toward the pickaxe resting against the tree.

“Just the one?” Rick you hear call to Andrea.

“I bet I can nail it from here.”

“Andrea, don’t! The Greenes have a rule about it,” you shout at the same time Rick is telling her, “No, no, Andrea, put the gun down.”

“You best let us handle this,” Shane calls with too much cockiness confidence as he limps away.

“Shane, wait. Hey—” The kettle starts to simmer inside you.

Rick places his hand by you in support. “Shane, hold up! Hershel wants to deal with walkers.”

“What for, man? We got it covered.”

“Shane!” you shout one final time before saying to Rick, “I’ll run and get Mr. Greene. Go with them.”

“Thank you, Y/N!” he breathes, and takes off like a shot to join your brother, T-Dog, and Glenn as they run toward it.

So much unnecessary drama over one walker, good Moses. The host says let him handle it, why is that so complicated?

You book it to the house, regretting it immediately because pain seethes with every step. But you and Glenn are the fastest, so you’re using what you have in order to help.

“Miss Patricia!” you yell as you sprint closer to the porch. “Mr. Greene? Maggie, Jimmy, Beth, whoever can hear me!”

Lori and Patricia hurry outside, you tell them what’s going on, and immediately point and start racing even faster to catch up to where the others are charging.  

As you plow through the pain, med-bag still on your back, you get a horrible flush of terror.

The tugging in your chest wrenches forward.

That’s Daryl.

That’s the way he moves his arms when he walks, there’s the tattoo he has on his inner arm, there’s his crossbow! 

He’s, he’s got on just his undershirt, now, but — oh my God — “No, stop! It’s Daryl!”

......................................  

Him

Why are those assholes stampeding over? The hell they want? They wanna mess with him? Huh?  

But—the fast one who’s taking their sling off, racing up behind the four in front…

Is that the one who just shouted his name?  

He knows that voice. He likes it.

Psht, but look at the shirtless chest-shaver over there, limping with a pickaxe. And the big, tall, black dude? Homeboy planning on playing baseball, or what?

And was it the scrawny Asian kid with the wrench thing who just asked “Is that Daryl?” There some other redneck here who looks like me, or what? And why do you care, huh? You gonna laugh at me, Data?

But the one he likes looks into his eyes and says “Honey, what happened to you?” in a way that makes his chest feel all—what the hell is happening with his chest, it’s like it’s being pulled. Makes him lose balance even more than he was, shit. And why is the one he likes all teary eyed, too? Who messed with them? ‘Cause he’ll straight knock down whoever messed with them.

Goddamn, why are these guys here, what the hell is going on—they want a show or something? And what’s the deal with the curly-haired, pale pretty-boy with the extra-long revolver? Three guesses what he’s trying to prove.

Wait—Rick. That’s Rick. The one who chained Merle. He’s reason Merle’s gone.

Daryl notices that fast one, with the voice he knows and likes, who made his chest go funny —oh, that’s Y/N!— has a hand on Rick’s shooting arm, but that’s because fucking Rick is aiming a gun straight at his head again.

Already chased off one Dixon, now going for the set, huh? Do your worst, bitch.  

“That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head,” he barks at him. “You gonna pull the trigger, or what?”

What’s weird is how before he was even done barking at Rick, Y/N exhaled all heavy and started grinning all big and coming toward him.

It’s okay, though, Y/N can come closer. He knows they’re safe. He doesn’t get why they’re teary and smiling at him, but he likes them.

The strong guy with the baseball bat is smiling at him, too. Hold it, why are—why are all these dumbasses smiling or hunched over and catching their breath, what the hell’s the ma—

......................................  

You

The bullet went through your chest before it hit his head. The pain was so intense and your horror so deep, that you weren’t able to make a sound.

Or was that your own cry you heard so loudly right before Shane yelped your name, then Andrea’s?

It’s strange how despite being shot, you were still able to crawl to Daryl.

Rick’s screaming “No! No!” blends with your pulse in your ears while you beg and pray and demand that Daryl did not just get shot in the head and killed.

There wasn’t the familiar numbness that took over you this time, it’s-it’s rage.  

This morning, you’d seen Daryl’s very soul. All afternoon you’d been filled with a horrible dread for his safety because he wasn’t with you and that felt wrong for some reason.

Then, when he finally came back, you’d all thought he was a walker, and for those gut-wrenching moments as you ran toward him, you settled yourself for the worst.  

Was all of that to prepare you for this moment?

To be filled with relief that he was back and alive, only for you to have a hole ripped through your chest as he got shot in the fucking head in front of you?

No. That’s not how this goes, that’s not how this works, no, no, no, he needs to be alive!

......................................  

Him

What the…hell…

That was a gunshot he heard before he fell back and felt like the spot above his temple caught fire, right? 

What’s weird is Daryl saw the sumbitch stop aiming...

There’s a gentle, warm thing on his chest and on his cheek. He can sense someone bent next to him, someone familiar. They smell good. He feels whatever landed in his mouth being taken out, some kinda string? Now it feels like a hand on his cheek and his arm.

Something then presses against his forehead. He’s pretty sure it’s the safe person again. There’s warm air, too, he can feel their breathing. Feels weird, but an okay weird. Some drops of warm, wet stuff then fall on him, the thing pressing his forehead lifts off, and a soft, squishy thing pushes against it for a second.

The voice he liked that made him feel safe, um, Y/N, that was Y/N’s voice, they’re saying something but he can’t make it out.

Now he’s being—ow, ow, he’s being lifted up, shit, it hurts!

He open his eyes.  

Sees an angel his friend. Y/N.

The tugging in his chest stops. He’s home.

The rush from getting shot aside, he can finally let his eyelids droop shut.

There’s a whole bunch of commotion. Footsteps running toward him in the grass. A higher pitched voice shouting “Oh my God!” and another crying, “Rick!”

As the two people who lifted him get their arms under his shoulders and start to support his weight, he hears the voice he feels safe around say “Careful with that side, Shaney, he’s got some kind of bandage there, it’s soaked,” and “Rick, I’m gonna lean his head on you, okay? It’s opposite the graze and the other side feels like he got smacked already, there’s dried blood.”

Well, if Rick is here, Daryl figures he might as well joke, “I was kidding,” to make up for barking at him.

Y/N’s giggle that they make after hearing a dumb jokes is that last thing he hears as h……  

......................................  

You

“Oh, buddy—guys, he just passed out,” you tell Rick and Shane, the thankfulness and pure relief within you making you feel like you could burst or float away. Between every thought of what care he needs is thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s home.

You press another kiss to his forehead before Shane and Rick start moving too fast.

Andrea’s distraught cries reach your awareness, and she stops repeating “Oh my God!” to ask “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious. You just grazed him,” is what Rick answers, and angrily, too.

“Y/N, did you get grazed, too? I saw you fall!” she panics.

Which is when you realize the pain in your chest has vanished. You forgot all about it, in fact.

You look down.

Dude—okay, you aren’t bleeding? That’s good, but what just—you could’ve sworn you’d been shot when he fell. Seriously, you figured the bullet went through you, too. But, looking down, no. You aren’t shot, aren’t bleeding, you have no more sensation that your chest was cracked.  

All you feel now is, well, the burning ache where you’re restitched, and your darn shoulder that you undid the very tricky-to-untie sling that Patricia secured that was specifically to avoid you taking it off (hey, you needed both arms when you reached Daryl).

You have no idea what happened to have made you imagine it, but you don’t care. He’s back and breathing. He’s home.

“But look at him,” Glenn pants. “What the hell happened?”

You wish you knew. “We’ll find out when he wakes.”

“But what about—he’s wearing ears!”

Oh, Moses, those are ears on the string around his neck. Ew! What the fuck?

You catch eyes with Rick and glance at it to relay “get it off!” then look away because your stomach won’t let your eyes linger on it, it is so vile. “I’ll hold his head steady.”

He nods, and once you’ve got Daryl’s head cradled in your hands, he rips it off. “Let’s keep that to ourselves,” Rick stresses to the group.

“I’m gonna run and tell Mr. Greene and Miss Patricia what’s goin’ on,” you say, then hurry toward the family, Lori meeting you halfway and taking the med-bag off your shoulder.

“Guys,” T-Dog speaks up from the back. 

Lori makes a small gasp. You turn.

He’s holding up — Eliza’s ragdoll. The one she gave to—

“Isn’t this Sophia’s?”

----------------------------------------------------------

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[ghostsbimbo]

TF141 + and hearing a song by madeline the person

authors note: on my personal blog i also did scene queen, which is located here!! [ it's reblogged and very unorganized. unlike my posts here. ] the certain song that Ghost finds, is used in this list will have an asterisk near it btw. I didn't have the spoons to complete all the boys, so this will do for now.

Simon "Ghost" Riley - Unrecognizable.

When you went away my worst words went to bed But silly old me said, "Come sleep in my head, " but now I have become something I can't control Yes, I have become something unrecognizable

You had found this song while you two were on a break. It was very comforting to you, and it genuinely became a song that both of you could relate to. Of course he wouldn't ever admit it, but the dude grew a major love for Madeline The Person. btw, when he found a certain song* by them, it made him tear up. You had to comfort him.

John Price - Haunted.

But why’d you go back in the closet? You said you loved me and you meant it The way you kissed me, said I need you But maybe that’s just what they all do You didn’t have to go back in the closet Your mom’s uptight, but she’ll accept it And you can’t play the perfect dream girl If you're living in a split world

He first heard this song when he found you on the floor, this song blasting from your speaker. It was evident you were struggling with something, and he had no clue how to help. He ended up looking up the lyrics in his free time and next time he seen you he just hugged you.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish - Tantrum.

I've never been this lonely, so let's just have some kids Then we'll probably need a family therapist So we don't fuck our kids up, so they don't feel this too But we'll keep doing things we know we shouldn't

It was a day off for you two, just lazing around and he was finally having a small break. This song was softly playing in the background, and he definitely raised an eyebrow at you when he heard you softly singing along to the part mentioning the kids. "Ya wanna have kids with me, huh?" he'd question, and it kind of ended up with you having a few positive pregnancy tests after your first missed period.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - I Talk To The Sky*

I write down things I wish I could say to you I talk to the sky I collect words I wish I could give to you I talk to the sky I talk to the sky The sky doesn't say a word

It was a few weeks after a funeral of a very close friend of yours when he first heard the song, and he was actually the one to show it to you instead of the other way around. Hearing it made you tear up and turn into a mess in his arms. You had lost plenty of people in your life, so it just made you think about everyone, not just the recent loss. BTW, you didn't get mad at him, you thanked him and just went and looked for more music of Madeline the person.

[ethernetmeep]

I really enjoy the way you write/talk/ramble. Very eloquent. Personal but abstract. Transparent but opaque. I hope that doesn't sound too weird for me to say.

Anyway, because of that I wanted to ask: what do you like to read? What are your favourite books?

as soon as i saw this, i felt a bit dizzy— flattered, indefinitely! i write so many anonymous messages, that i forget what its like to get one myself.. i really do appreciate your kind words, i would give you a hug but doing so for an anon feels almost intrusive— so instead i offer a hypothetical little tea party :^)

as for the quote, weirdness factor, never worry about something like that. well.. with me, i mean. it wasn’t weird at all, and even in the offhand chance it was, i quite like the strange. being alive shouldn’t always have to be conforming to a majority, but thats a different discussion..

what do i like to read, huh? hmmmmmm… thats a really good question. (i almost said ‘actually’ which implied the question had any percentage to not be good; this isn’t true! i appreciate all questions) its an odd mix, but i thoroughly enjoy scientific books, whether that be about a broad subject like space or a book dedicated to solely spiders. learning about this world i inhabit means quite a lot to me. i also enjoy books which are a bit complex, although i wouldn’t say i go out of my way to say esoteric; mainly because… i tend to procrastinate many things, especially reading. it would be a lie if i said i read most of the books to fit that supposed genre… i have read house of leaves, though. one of my favorite books ever….

i’ve talked about this in length before, so excuse me if i sound redundant, but the motif of haunted* houses is quite special to me. notice the asterisk on haunted. anatomy by kitty horrorshow, the haunting of hill house, house.wad…. anything in that vein, absolutely enamored with. funnily enough, still have to read the haunting of hill house. thoroughly excited. then again, thats a very specific kind of media, and not a book genre

other favorites include the metamorphosis & innumerable insects. love those… have a photo of franz kafka in my wallet at all times. i also am quite fond of junji ito’s work, although i haven’t read some from my shelf in awhile. i know manga is technically different from the textbook definition of book, but i put it here anyway to be more thorough

to be honest, i like to read anything which seems intriguing and captivates my attention, and that is.. many things. i have more books i want to read then books actually read, i think. for example, ive been wanting to read no longer human, (read the manga version junji ito created; still different, though) but i’ve simply haven’t gotten around to it. its quite silly… and my interest is genuine in them, i should add— i get immensely excited at their ideas & concepts, i just lose track of time quite easily. my lack of reading isn’t because i don’t want to, but because i simply… how do the kids say this… forgor…

thank you very much for the ask— it means quite a lot to me to be able to converse with others ^_^ and, as i said earlier, your compliments are much appreciated.. very much so.. i do hope you’re doing okay, wherever you are & whomever you are. 🫂

(if you do not like a tea party or tea, then maybe hot chocolate will suffice. i know i enjoy hot chocolate, but it varies for everyone..)

[kneamet]

amore amore

Trigger Warning: angst, obsession, drabble

Word Count: 608

Character: curt wild/reader

amore amore

The dirty club — the name of which hardly anyone would have remembered — greeted visitors with a loud sound from rattling speakers, dancing people sprinkled with sequins, vomit on the floor in the corners of the room, bright lighting. The green walls are covered with numerous low-quality posters of rock stars — sticking out their tongues and showing guitars — in black leather jackets, as well as strange red drawings that seemed to be drawn by stoned drug addicts.

Sweat was pouring down from Curt's hot body — it was stuffy. Being stripped to the waist, still wearing blue worn jeans, Curt closes the dressing room door and there is a click — the light turns on and the latch rattles. He takes off the strange collar that hung around his neck for a couple of hours and throws it somewhere to the side — now Curt is not interested in how he performed. In his mind, drugged with highs and screams of visitors, there is only one thing — you.

With a light sigh, still unable to calm the increased heartbeat, he steps with his bare feet to his beloved star, not paying attention to the fact that he stepped on something sharp and hugs you. Pulling closer, he kisses on the lips, but does not feel the answer. He looks at her, hears all the charm with his eyes even at this moment; Curt could not stop enjoying his beautiful star. She is incredible, she saved him at the moment when his hands dropped and his veins were filled with only heroin.

He walked the paths of psychotropics, was about to go crazy; the walls of the house, brothel and alienation of people pressed, as if in the mouth of a dragon.

Brian opened the way for him to his Emerald City — glasses were beating after midnight, he celebrated a successful performance with Slade — it  make a splash, the manager told them. Curt was surrounded by beautiful girls, but no one attracted his attention; in the middle of namelessness and strangers (what was he doing here anyway?) — she became close to him, his star... Sneakers continued to wear off on the floor, a pack of Rothmans stuck out in the pockets of her jeans, she was pretentiously smoking a cigarette, standing in the corner of a huge room. He did not dare to approach her, watched from afar.

He was ordered to love, but to love is disgusting. Brian was empty, but behaved like an prince. He clapped his hands when Curt slammed the door, mocked and laughed — "go to your junkies!” he said after him. Curt studied to live alone in the dark, but he never managed. Was weak, doubted. At the moment when the bottom swallowed him, she appeared. The smoke was dissipating before his eyes, he would never fix what he had done during his lifetime, but now she is his salvation, his love, his asterisk, his death, his addiction.

“My star...”

He called her, but got no answer. His cold heart was warmed, and now he was kneeling in front of her. Curt spoke with naive phrases, the songs continued to play, and he smeared the green antiseptic chickenpox — an infection from first love, but the wound did not hurt anymore. Eternity had no love, love had no taste.

They were like Paolo and Francesco, Othello, Desdemona and everything like that, — his star said. Сurt could be a monster, but he sincerely tried to be good. His life with Brian was tedious tales, but only with a cute star he felt love.

There was no love without illness.

Curt continued to live in castles in the air.

i remember that i have been promising the third part of ewan mcgregor's characters for a long time and writing a fic on mark renton, but i still cant find the strength, only on drabbles. sorry to disappoint, but so far only so, im sorry

[atlas-likes-writing]

Man down!

Characters: Simon Riley/Ghost, John MacTavish/Soap, John Price, Kyle Garrick/Gaz

Summary: The team get into a spot of trouble while hunting for a Malian arms dealer. Soap needs immediate medical attention as a result.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Injury, violence, medical terms, blood, gore(sort of? It's not described in detail)

Authors note: I am trained in first aid but I am not a combat medic myself. There may be some terms that are confusing for some, so I have put an asterisk next to them(*) and I will be explain what they mean at end.

Also! For those who don't know, everyone in Special Forces is medically trained whether they were a combat medic beforehand or not. Take this information as you will. :).

P.S - I word vomited this entire thing in about four hours. Don't come for me if there are mistakes lol.

The Tomboctou region of Mali is an unforgiving place. One of eight regions in the African country, it is known for its hostile environment and the hostile terrorists that inhabit it. It's quite a beautiful place if you ignore the IEDs that lie in the roads and the fading bloodstains on the ancient architecture. If one were to listen closely, the sound of distant gunfire and explosions can be heard a few miles away.

Taskforce 141 move swiftly through a small village somewhere in the east of the region. It has been evacuated due to unrest in the area, so there are no civilians in sight: a fact that puts the minds of the battle-hardened soldiers at rest. Sort of. It's difficult to be at rest when you're in a situation like this.

The mission is black. No-one other than the 141, Laswell, and a few trusted confidants such as Alex and Nikolai know what the mission entails. Even then, the details are blurry.

The team have very little information. They know of a man named Yoro Cissoko, a Malian arms dealer who works internationally with the likes of Makarov and El Sin Nombre. They have been ordered to find and apprehend Cissoko before he crosses the Tomboctou border and into the capital region of Bamako where he leaves for Russia at midnight.

Laswell has discovered intelligence that Cissoko will make his way to the border via the village the team are currently clearing. The four men hug the walls of the buildings, making sure each of them are empty of hostiles as they go.

"Building is clear. Onto the next one." Gaz's voice turns tinny with the static of the comm in Price's ear.

"Copy," the Captain replies, shifting his rifle about in his hands. "Street clear. Move up."

The four men begin to cross the road, the Malian sun peaking above the horizon. So far, all has been quiet.

"I don't like this, L.T. It's too quiet," Soap states, voicing everyone's silent opinions.

The masked man besides him glances at him. "Just keep focused, Johnny. Cissoko will be here in 5 minutes. We need to-"

BANG

Gunfire erupts around them and Soap falls with a shout. The rest of the team scramble for cover as lead wasps fly past their ears.

"Where the fuck did they come from?" Gaz yells.

"I don't know but Soap is down!" Price replies, poking his head out of cover to return fire.

Soap lies on the dusty ground in the middle of the street. Blood seeps out of a gaping wound in his thigh and soils his uniform a disgusting red. He groans and pulls a tourniquet from one of the many pockets in his combat vest and begins to pull it above the wound in his leg. He tightens it with a wince and picks up his weapon, returning fire from where he sits in the road.

"Ya wee buggers. You should'a hit something more important!" he screams as he shoots one of Cissoko's men and watches him drop to the floor.

"Soap! Get to cover!" Ghost yells at him. Soap immediately turns onto his stomach and crawls towards his companions voice, his chest almost flat on the ground. It's agony but he pushes through and manages to reach the rusted car that Ghost crouches behind.

"You broken?" Ghost asks.

"Just got shot, L.T. What do you think?" he replies, pulling himself into a sitting position with his back to the car.

"I'll rephrase. Where are you broken?"

"Left leg. Mid thigh."

Ghost nods and reaches for his backpack. He opens one of the smaller pockets and retrieves the first aid kit that each of the men are supplied with before missions. He grabs scissors and cuts the ever-dampening material of Soap's combat trousers carefully until the wound comes into view. It isn't pretty.

"Shit."

"What's wrong?" Soap asks nervously.

"It's about an inch away from your femoral artery*. You're lucky you're not dead."

"Huh. Nice."

"This isn't a joke, Johnny. You're losing a lot of blood," Ghost scolds, peering at the wound.

"Trust me, L.T. I know," the smaller man responds.

"Apply pressure. I'll tell Price we need exfil." Soap does as he is asked and puts his hands over the wound. He winces in pain as he applies pressure. "That's gonna sting in the morning.."

"Price. Soap's in bad shape. We need exfil. Now."

"Roger. I'll call for Nik to pick us up." Price's tinny voice replies through the radio.

"Copy that."

"I'm not losing anyone today," Price states, "Keep him safe."

Ghost grunts an affirmation through the radio and turns back to Soap. The scot is quiet. He's slumped forwards and his arms lie limp at his sides.

"Shit," Ghost exclaims, rushing over to him. "Soap? Soap! It's Ghost. Wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!" Ghost pinches the man in the arm, taps him roughly on his collarbone, squeezes his earlobes; anything that could make Soap respond.

"Fuck!" Ghost pulls Soap down from a sitting position into a lying one on the ground. He quickly puts him in the recovery position before tightly bandaging the wound in Soap's thigh.

"Price! Soap's unresponsive. Where's that exfil?"

"Hold tight. We're on our way. I'm calling off the mission."

Ghost sighs. He knows as much as anyone what Cissoko will do if he leaves the country. "Copy," he states grimly. He hates the idea of letting a man as vile as Cissoko go, but Soap is more important and he knows that.

"We've got 18 hours until he leaves. We'll have another chance." Ghost scoffs at that but otherwise says nothing. Almost immediately after, Gaz appears and fires at the opposition from behind a crumbling brick wall nearby. Price shows up soon after and crouches next to Ghost.

"We need to get him out of here. Come on!" Price and Ghost band together to pick Soap off the floor and hook his limp arms around their shoulders. With Gaz covering, the three men move out from behind the old Toyota and drag their way to an alleyway that leads to the edge of the sandy village. From there, the vast expanse of the dessert beyond can be seen between the space of the buildings. If the team were not otherwise preoccupied with the unconscious Soap, they'd be able to see the black dot in the distance that is Nik's helicopter.

"Bullets!" Gaz yells as he falls back to the group, now out of rounds.

"Fuck's sake," Price growls, handing off Soap to Gaz as he points his weapon to the entrance of the alleyway. "Get to the other side of the alleyway. Now!" Gaz and Ghost drag Soap's deadweight to the end of the alleyway as instructed, Price following shortly behind.

"Nik, please tell me you're close," Price speaks into his radio.

"Don't worry, my friend. I'm here," Nik responds, setting down his helicopter behind the cover of the village buildings.

"Nikolai! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes," Ghost responds.

"Get in. I'll get you out of here." Ghost and Gaz work together to heave Soap onto the chopper before following after. Ghost trains his rifle towards the alleyway as Gaz tends to Soap. Price, after shooting down a few of Cissoko's men, jumps into the helicopter before tapping Nik's shoulder. At that signal, Nik raises helicopter and flies away.

"How's he doing?" Price asks when the team are a safe distance away.

"Not good, Cap. He needs a hospital," Gaz responds to which Price nods. Soap's face is visibly paling by the minute.

"I have a celox bandage**. Shove that in there," Ghost states, handing Gaz a stack of bandages. The sergeant nods and begins to unwrap Ghost's previous handiwork. His lip curls in disgust when he sees the state of his friends leg.

"Fucking hell. How is he not dead?"

"Because I'm a stubborn fucker, laddy. I thought you knew that."

All three men surrounding the injured scot shoot up.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Soap slurs, a weak smile gracing his features.

"Just that shit-eating grin, Johnny. Might want to wipe it off," Ghost replies.

"Now that's permanent, L.T. You ain't gonna get that off."

Ghost sighs. "I'll tolerate it for now, mate. Just keep talking to me, okay?"

"Now that's something I can do," Soap chuckles, the sound more gravelly than what was normal. He winces suddenly as Gaz shoves the celox bandage into the wound in Soap's leg.

"Sorry mate. Need to soak up the blood," Gaz states as he presses it down before wrapping it in a regular bandage and tying it tightly.

Soap shrugs. "I know, laddy. Don't worry."

During the flight back to base, Soap continued to fall in and out of consciousness. Everytime he went unresponsive, the heavy lumps in the throats of the 141 got thicker and thicker. The distance between the village and the base was only about 40 miles, but even with Nik pushing his chopper as fast as it could go, the journey felt like years. When they got home, Soap was still unconscious. The team handed him over to the CMT's***, giving them the information they needed. He was then put on a stretcher and whisked away.

[1 hour later]

"I'm sorry, sir. He is still in critical condition. You can't visit him."

"Is he conscious?" Price asks the combat medic in front of him, crossing his arms.

"Well- yes sir-," he replies, "But he's not ready for visitors yet. We need to make sure he's stable before he can see anyone."

"I don't care. He's part of my team. It's my job to make sure he's okay." With that, he shoves past the man and enters the tent. He scans the room of injured soldiers and finds Soap in the corner, lying down on a small hospital bed with his leg elevated on several pillows.

When Soap sees the Captain, his mouth cracks open into a grin. "Miss me already, eh Price?"

"Just making sure you're okay," he replies, a small smile gracing his face. He drags a metal stool to Soap's bed and sits down on it.

"Docs said I'll be benched for a while. They're gonna send me back to the hospital back at Timbuktu**** to recover."

John sighs. "Understandable. We'll miss you here."

"I'm sure you'll do fine without me, boss man. Laswell will keep me company."

"Good." Price stands up again. "See you in a bit, mate. Nice knowing you're alright. Don't die on me, okay? That's a lot of paperwork."

Soap laughs. "I make no promises."

With that, Price leaves. He exits the tent to see Ghost and Gaz harassing the medic he was talking to earlier.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but he's already had one visitor when he's not supposed to. Please come back later. I assure you we'll keep him safe." Gaz was about to retort but Price beat him to it.

"He's fine, lads. He's heading back to Timbuktu in the morning."

Gaz nods, much to the appreciation of the combat medic in front of him. He turns with Ghost and the three of them leave the area.

"So what are we going to do about Cissoko?" Gaz asks.

"I've got a plan for that. I'll brief you later," Price replies, turning in the direction of the officers tents with Ghost.

"Got it."

--

Terms:

* Femoral Artery - an artery that runs down the inside of your leg. The main artery that delivers blood to your legs. If that gets sliced in any way you've got about a minute to live.

** Celox bandage - this thing basically works like a tampon but for the rest of your body. You shove it into a wound and it soaks up the blood and expands which then blocks the wound up. Pretty solid piece of kit.

*** CMT's - an acronym that means "Combat Medical Technician". Its a fancy term for a combat medic.

**** Timbuktu - the capital city of Tomboctou.

Masterlist

[youremyonlyhope]

The Giggle

Final Fourteen episode*. If I've added an asterisk it means that I correctly interpreted the vague spoiler I saw and am not happy. (Edit: Yep added the asterisk.)

Anyway. I'm just glad this means we'll finally get Gatwa!Doctor. We should have had him already.

Also forgot to put this in the last post. But. Pandemonium, the world ending, people going insane, and a Toymaker. My prediction for the plot of this episode: StarKid's Black Friday.

Sorry, all I can hear is Barney Stinson. I'm sure he did a bad German accent at some point in HIMYM. I like dolls but these puppets are creepy even to me. "Sunnier climes" OH, SO HE'S A RACIST. Hey dude. Tell Baird about the human hair before it blows up. "Imagine if it could talk." No no no. Be careful what you wish for.

Something I forgot to say much much earlier. I don't know how I feel about the intense zoom-in on the TARDIS in the opening sequence. It's almost a Torchwood level of dramatic zoom.

Very carefully not showing us Wilf's face. I wouldn't have wanted Bernard present for all this chaos either though. I'm sorry. UNIT has an Avenger's Tower now? I don't like that. I liked the Tower of London. But I guess Kate wanted to make sure they definitely didn't get shut down again. I was chanting "Slap him, slap him, slap him" as Kate walked up and when she hugged him I said "Aww" in disappointment. Oh Mel! I had been vaguely spoiled of her showing up too. RTD2, I would have preferred an Old Who companion showing up in the 60th special episode that was closest to the actual 60th, but oh well I guess I should be happy we got something Old Who at all since this really was getting close to being a purely RTD focused anniversary. "The pilot declared his right to land wherever he wanted." Greaaat. Sounds like an average day here in 'Murica honestly. "Why should I care about you?" I mean look everything I've ever seen of the Tories tells me that's just what they're like anyway. What is a Vlinx and why is it here and why do we trust it? I don't trust it. Ah. Bad idea to deactivate it for even more than a couple words honestly. So is everyone just prejudiced now? Like the racist toymaker?

TRINITY WELLS!!!!! NO WAY. NO. WAY. THEY GOT MY GIRL TRINITY BACK ON MY TV!?!?!?! THAT'S MY GIRL RIGHT THERE. I LOVE HER. Ohhhh Trinity deserves the big font for that.

I've found the one bit of RTD era nostalgia that instantly gets to me. Have Trinity Wells show up. I guess this is how everyone else has felt the last few episodes. Not even Wilf got that reaction out of me. I literally just SCREAMED "Trinity Wells!" Out loud. I can't even be mad she's spewing stupidity and is "anti-Zeedex" I am just happy to see her. That's my girl.

If nothing else comes from this episode, if I don't care about anything else, I got to see Trinity Wells again. Ok that really made me so happy just now. The Trinity Wells Show. Really showing us it's her. Ahhh I love her. Seriously I'm reacting the way I probably would have reacted if they ever acknowledged Frobisher during Twelve's era. Only Martha showing up could get a bigger reaction out of me right now. Truly that was a cameo aimed at me and only me it feels like. So like the Master's network? "It's not like the old Archangel Network." Ok never mind. Oh so Rose only came out as trans 6 months ago. I WAS GONNA SAY THAT THE CHILDREN'S VOICES WE HEARD BEFORE THE TIME-SKIP WAS MY VOCAL WARMUPS. God I need to write things down when I think of them. NOOO. I THINK I KNEW ABOUT THE FIRST TV VIDEO BEING A PUPPET OR SOMETHING. THIS SOUNDS FAMILIAR. I don't mean to be That Person but the whole human race isn't connected by Internet yet. We still got uncontacted/limited contact tribes and groups all over the place. Hundreds if not thousands of people who have never seen a screen. Oh yeah! They're President of the World!

(I took way too long searching to find that specific gif. But I love that gif so much.)

"120 plus five weeks holiday." "Done." YAS GET THAT MONEY DONNA. Also find Martha to see if she's still freelance or not. "So you talk about no one. Ever." I don't mean to quote Jack Harkness, but not if they're blonde... Doctor. You are. Avoiding. Still so much Thirteen in you. NOPE. LOL at them having to use basically refurbished still images from the lost episodes. BBC, this is only the fault of your own that they're missing. I hope you two have learned from last episode to STAY TOGETHER. Rules of play. Lawless. Hmm. So the Toymaker made everyone act like kids where the world revolves around them and only them? WHAT DID I SAY. STAY. TOGETHER. Oh no he's way too light. That was way too heavy for the Doctor to lift. Who's your mummy? Not an Empty Child reference just me being convinced his mummy is going to be someone. Oh nooooo not the "mama" and the teeth. OH RECAP TIME. Is this because they know a bunch of people skipped Twelve and Thirteen and even Eleven? Oh well. At least some acknowledgement. Still wish it was in the first of the specials but ok. "Oh, well, that's all right then." Ok look Toymaker has got a point for those three "surviving" but dying. Why only reference the Flux and nothing else Thirteen went through? Part of me is upset at no mention of the Fam and Dan, not even at least Yaz since Fourteen would have seen her only days earlier, but Thirteen had a clean track record of companions surviving so it's ok. Ok NPH's using his Barney magic trick skills ok. I see you. What do you mean a jigsaw of the Doctor's history? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT. PLEASE BE A REFERENCE TO THE ORIGINAL OLD WHO EPISODE. DON'T BE A HINT THAT RTD2 IS GOING TO TRY TO RETCON THE TIMELESS CHILD. JUST LET IT BE. I'm sorry the Master is in your WHAT. "The one who waits." Amy? Rory? They both waited. "That's someone else's game." huh. Sorry, all I see is Barney Stinson even in the mannerisms. I was wondering why if they went back in time that things would still be bad in the future. Since if they fixed it in 1925 it wouldn't happen. The Toymaker wouldn't be there. But no wibbly wobbly timey wimey just a different order. They should take the little toy box. Oh good took it. Don't you dare kill of Mel right here while she's watching the box. Don't you dare. I haven't even seen any of her episodes but I swear if you kill her.... WHAT. IS. THE. VLINX. THOUGH. Hey Doctor, at least tell Kate what you're up against. I was about to say that NPH was pretty perfect casting for a role like this, then the Toymaker threw Kate into a wall and too I'm mad now. DON'T HURT MEL TOO. Oh no. Kateeee I love you I do but listen to him ok? NOW you tell her about the Toymaker. Maybe some warning next time? Eh. He can shoot it. I didn't like this new UNIT building anyway. This is very Christmas Invasion. [thud] [glass shattering] OK that was dark. Wait celestials were a thing in Do You Hear Me? right? "And yet, I have fallen in love with humanity." Really hitting the nail on the "just like the Doctor" head here. OH. WOW. OOOOOOOOOOH. Next Doctor. Oooooooooooh. "It doesn't matter who. Because every single one of you is fantastic" RTD2 that better be a purposeful Nine reference though I know it's not. Don't you dare say "I don't want to go." for the third time. "Allons-y." Ok I'll accept that.

NO. NOT AGAIN. WE ARE NOT DOING ANOTHER TEN REGENERATION FAKE OUT. NO.

"What?" No. Nope. The spoiler came true and I am not happy about it. Time to add that asterisk. No. Is he not even wearing pants? Oh but I love Gatwa as the Doctor already so much. He's here. Oh Fifteen (fine I will say the number. I think this is the first time) gets to keep the tie. I meant to say I liked the grey knit tie earlier like 2 episodes ago. And the shoes. Oh and Ten's in an undershirt, I thought the shirt multiplied somehow just to not leave Fifteen totally naked. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on here?" I am so happy to see you. Why must your first scene involve you not wearing pants though? The disrespect. "I think you're beautiful." "Do you come in a range of colors?" "Yes." I... do not know how I feel about that line. I really don't like that Fifteen has to LITERALLY share his start with Fourteen. I was saying it when Gatwa was first announced as Fourteen and then not Fourteen because then Tennant got announced. And now it's literally happening. They're sharing the lines, the scene, 1 of 3 specials. Really more like half a special if we're being generous. I really wish we had just not done this Tenthree thing at all. See even Fourteen got to say "I'm the Doctor" first while Fifteen said "And I'm the Doctor." like. Come on. At least let Fifteen have that first line. HEY. THE CAPTIONS SAY [TENTH DOCTOR] NOT FOURTEENTH. SO WHICH IS IT. WHAT IS THE TRUTH. DOES THIS NOT COUNT?

Ok seriously. Give the man some pants. Like come on.

Eeek did he have too many teeth? He looked like he had too many teeth. Flat, 2D, like Flatline? "My legions are coming." Ok and that means... Oooh I did not like that the laugh's arpeggio didn't resolve. "And bind it in salt." SO. IS THIS SALT THING. REALLY A THING NOW? REALLY? Or is it just because the Doctor mentioned the whole salt thing being the leak that let the Toymaker in? And what about mavity? There's 15 minutes. The ball fell but did it hit the ground yet? Gravity? Maybe the game didn't end? The Doctor kissed themself. Not in the way the Master did but still.

Give him some pants please.

NO. NO. NOT ANOTHER LADY WITH RED NAILS PICKING UP SOMETHING THAT HAS THE MASTER INSIDE IT. NO. SERIOUSLY RTD WHY ARE WE DOING THINGS OVER? Unless it's Dhawan!Master. Then I will accept that. I will gladly have Dhawan!Master back. BUT OTHERWISE NO. I REFUSE. Why is Fourteen explaining this to Fifteen, he should remember it since he's him. Like come on. "This is great. I think. Is it?" That was a Thirteenism right there. "One thing you need in this place is a chair." see that's the Doctor channeling Bill judging Twelve not having chairs close enough to the console. "Adric." "Adric." ADRICCCCCC. Seriously that hurts me and like I said I haven't even watched that part of Old Who. God. Stop bringing up Rose come on. OH WAIT. WAIT.

WAIT.

"I loved her. And Rose." OH MY GOD. I hate Tenrose but even I'M freaking out that the Doctor just admitted to loving Rose out loud. OH MY GOD. I mean still fanservice pandering. But FINE. Fine. Tenrose shippers take this one I'm giving it to you. I got so distracted by my annoyance at the still constant bringing up of Rose I almost missed the weight of what that meant. Still mad about the Rose-colored-glasses of the RTD era but good for you guys getting this.

Mavic Chen? Remind me to look that up it sounds really familiar. Ah, wish I didn't look it up, gotta love that 60s racism. Rehab in reverse. So you're saying we're gonna check back in on Fourteen in the future and he'll properly regenerate and/or kind of pop into existence in the moment that Fifteen bi-generated? Maybe? Hopefully? God if I had a nickel for every time RTD had a second Doctor separate from the main Doctor and had Tennant's face stay on Earth with a companion, I'd have two nickels. Don't you dare split the TARDIS too. That's too much. I assume this hammer is an Old Who reference. If so, very cute. They split the TARDIS. And Fifteen gets the second TARDIS. I can't really describe my mood besides -_- "I am so sorry." Yeah you better apologize to her. Ok that's cute the ramp. Why the jukebox though. Traditional Earth ballad? If Billie Piper shows up I'm literally stomping across the pond to RTD's house and killing him because that'll officially be Too Much. I can't even be completely happy at Gatwa's first proper TARDIS flight. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye were you?" Of course he was. Ask Sarah Jane. ASK SUSAN. "As if I would ever do that." At least you're self aware. Have these two been the first Doctors to hug? So Fifteen tells people he loves them. Willingly. Openly. Frequently. And a lot. I like that. (Yes Fourteen said he loved Wilf and River but shhh that was over the course of days. Fifteen has said I love you twice in like 3 minutes and was very affectionate to Mel)

Can we PLEASE put this man in some pants though!?

The little 2-finger salute from Fourteen is cute though. "The eyebrow story." TWELVE? Nope an alien species. "Oh, you're family, darling. Sit down." AWWWW. AWWWWWW MEL GETS A FAMILY. Ok. Ok that's really sweet. That's what I care about. Not even Tenthree/Fourteen getting a family. Mel gets one. Empty chair. It's for Wilf yes but let me pretend Martha's just running late to dinner ok? Ok. "I've never been so happy in my life." That's good. Fifteen really split off from Fourteen and was like "Ok you carry all the trauma and deal with it. I'm gonna keep running away."

I knew the Vlinx was voiced by Nicholas Briggs. What IS the Vlinx though? Because I really was waiting for it to be like a plant by the Toymaker.

God I can't believe we're really gonna do the same thing all over again with the Master. Like I said, if it's Dhawan!Master then I'm overjoyed. If it's another, I'm not as happy. I'm hoping that because it was the same way Simm!Master had came back as himself, it means Dhawan!Master will too. We'll see. And who grabbed the tooth this time? At least last time the ring was in a forest. I could believe someone was nearby to take it. But they're on a HELICOPTER LANDING PAD. In the secure UNIT building. Seriously who picked up the tooth?

GIVE. MY MAN. SOME PANTS. I feel so insulted that Gatwa spent all of his moments in his first episode IN HIS UNDERWEAR.

The absolute highlight of the episode was seeing Trinity Wells. Literally the most excited I've been about any of these fanservice moments. That feels like it was fanservice just aimed directly at me. As if RTD2 was like "Hope's not gonna enjoy this. What can we do? No no I'm not bringing back Martha. Oh! Trinity Wells!"

*Asterisk time! I can only hope that Fourteen is just another Tentoo and will live and die a normal human life but that's not what seems to be the case. I don't like that there's just another Doctor floating around. I had been spoiled for it. I hoped I had misunderstood the post since I hadn't properly finished reading it once I realized it was a spoiler. But I interpreted it correctly. If it ends up being that Fourteen does eventually regenerate and kind of hops back into the moment the body splits into Fourteen and Fifteen, then fine. But like. Otherwise, if there's now just a separate branch of Doctors and regenerations and then Fifteen technically has to share the title of Fifteen with whoever regenerates from this Fourteen then I will be so mad. Is this Fourteen really Fourteentoo? Or Tenfour. CAN WE JUST STOP REGENERATING INTO DAVID TENNANT AT THIS POINT. Just have him come back as Ten, he doesn't need to be three maybe FOUR different Doctors!

Oh my god. If RTD2 pulls a "Fugitive!Doctor is actually a Doctor AFTER Fourteen and regenerated and forgot everything and then met Thirteen" instead of being a pre-First Doctor then I'll actually riot. If that's the meaning of the jigsaw of their history, I'm really gonna actually riot.

Of the 3 specials. The Meep was eh. It was fine. Pure nostalgia and a nightmare fuel alien monster of the week. However, I REALLY enjoyed Wild Blue Yonder. That was right up my alley combining aspects of a lot of my favorite past episodes. And the Giggle was fine. Better than the Meep, definitely. I love Fifteen. I'm mad about the bi-generation thing. I would have preferred if after the Toymaster was gone for a bit that Fourteen got sucked back into Fifteen or something as a way of the Universe correcting itself. I'm mad that for most of Fifteen's scenes, it felt more like he was Fourteen's companion. Not the next Doctor. ALSO WHY COULDN'T WE GIVE FIFTEEN SOME PANTS PLEASE. AT LEAST IN THE LATER SCENES.

Also is it still mavity? Did Donna really just ruin all of human history with that one joke?

Oh I just started proofreading and I realize my prediction of Black Friday was wrong. I really thought the Toymaker was gonna make everyone go crazy over a puppet toy.

GIVE FIFTEEN SOME PANTS.

[littlebird-99]

Dreams into Reality

Thorin X Tayler

Summary: Finally resting in Rivendale, Tay finally wakes up to someone besides Fili, knowing her secret. A bonding moment between Tay and someone.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm (will put asterisks)

Masterlist

Thorin's POV

“We should have left here where she was.”

I shake my head as I watch Fili pick her up and start to carry her, part of me was worried, especially after the flinch she shared after I grabbed her wrist, I didn't grab it hard, lest I thought I didn't.

“You don't mean that Thorin,” Balin's voice spoke out, “and I know deep down you know you don't mean that.”

I shook my eyes at my oldest friend's words, before starting to walk into Rivendell, looking around, I turn to Dwalin once we all stop, shaking my head lightly.

"Mithrandir!"

"Ah, Lindir."

"Stay sharp," I lean towards Dwalin as I keep my eyes on this, Lindir.

This Lindir started speaking to Gandalf in Elvish but he was cut off by the Wizard, "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"My lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here? Where is he?"

Horns sounded behind us and we all turned around as horses started to rush across the bridge, I spoke in Dwarvish before yelling out, "close ranks!" I made sure Fili was in the middle since he was holding Tay, I needed her out of sight of the elves for as long as I could, despite knowing that they could help. The horses started to circle around us, causing my heart to pound against my chest as I watched them closely, keeping my eyes on Gandalf just as one of the elves started to speak to him.

"Gandalf!"

"Lord Elrond." Gandalf greets the Elf on the black horse, before speaking in Elvish, earning responses from him back, the two just speaking in elvish causing me to glare at the two as they continue to speak, just as Elrond climbs off his horse and goes to hug Gandalf.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone is drawing them near." Elrond glances toward all of us and I make my way forward, "Ah that may have been us," Gandalf points his staff towards all of us, so I take that as a queue to step forward.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain." He spoke as he walked towards me, "I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed. He made no mention of you." I scoff, looking up at the elf as I try to decide when we should leave. He starts speaking elvish towards me and I hear Gloin speak up behind me in the group, "What is he sayin'? Does he offer us insult?!" He growls out as he starts to push forward.

"No Master Gloin, he's offering you food. And medical care for young Tay." I eye the wizard at his mention of Tay's name then glare at the Elf, "How do you-"

"AH well.. in that case, lead on" The dwarves all move forward walking into the palace ahead of us. I watch as a few elf maidens take Tay from Fili and I try to keep myself from grabbing her and leaving but I knew deep down they could help her better than the mountain ahead of us could at the moment. "She'll be fine My king, just let her get healed." I see my nephew whispering to one of the elves who had a sorrowful look on her face before she nodded and left them alone.

**Before we go towards the food, I pull Fili away from the others and into what I assume is a library, "what did you whisper to that elf maiden?" I question, going straight to the point. He just looks at me, his own questioning look on his face, "I have no idea what you're talking about Uncle," Do I look stupid to you? I saw you whisper something. And somethings been off with her since the hobbits home. Now tell me."

"Don't ask things you don't want to hear the answers to."

I glare at my nephew before shaking my head, "the injury that happened when she 'Arrived here,' was one that happened before she came, I know that much. But what is the cause of it nephew?"

I could feel his eyes on me as I move around, trying to not push my nephew into a wall and demand the answers. "Uncle... I'm not supposed to say, I told her that she could tell everyone on her own time. I don't want to upset my friend by talking about-"

"I don't care! You need to tell me what is wrong with her! And you will do it now or you can forget about finishing this quest with us!"

He looks at me with wide eyes, "you really want to know? In her world, she is miserable! She fights battles that are worse than ours! In her world she feels like nothing, she's fighting a war in her mind that hurts her every day. So in order to take control of those thoughts, is to use something to... I believe she said to control the pain, it helps her. When she arrived in the shire, she had just used a blade on her own skin, she was hurting and the person in her world wasn't able to see how much she was hurting. This person who is supposed to love and cherish her, she feels as if she means nothing to him. So she took the blade and used it. Trying to take the pain and control it. I bandaged the cuts, got them cleaned and helped her. I was letting the Elf maiden know to leave those bandages alone, and I would take care of it after the arrow was taken care of."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, my one was hurting and it was because of someone from her world. "I'll change her bandages. I'll take care of her, you go take care of yourself, I won't let her know that you told me. I'll tell her that an elf maiden told me." I spoke before sending him away quickly.**

Tay's POV

I hear birds around me, and before even opening my eyes, I feel the sheets below me and I start to panic, especially feeling a hand on me that doesn't feel familiar. I feel the hands where my bandages were supposed to be and I quickly pull my arm back, my eyes opening to find dull blue ones, with an emotion I wasn't quite used to seeing from him.

"What... What are you doing Thorin?" My voice was hoarse as I spoke, making me wonder how long I had been sleeping, and what I had missed.

"An elven maiden had come to find Fili but found me instead, letting me know about the bandages on your arm, I offered to change them for you," I couldn't pinpoint what his emotions were, and I was supposed to be good with that, but Thorin was something else, one who kept his emotions in check.

"I.. please go get F-"

"Why... Why do you do this?"

I was caught off guard by his question, just as much as I was when he grabbed my wrist gently, pulling it back to him so he could continue cleaning the cuts that littered my arm. I avoided looking at him, so I looked everywhere around my room, loving how beautiful Rivendell was in person.

"Tay, please?" His voice was soft this time, and I shook my head looking at him finally. I can finally see the sadness that lingers in his eyes, and I find my heart cracking, I quickly look down at my arm, eyes scanning the new bandages that line it.

**"I'm not enough," My voice is just above a whisper as I begin, "In my world, people prove to me time and time again that I'm not enough, and it is breaking my soul. I can't breathe, my chest tightens and my mind races faster than my heart half of the time, so, to help with that, I take a blade, and run it along my skin, making my mind focus on the pain from the blade. Or I take a lighter, light a stick on fire, or something metal, and stick that to my skin..." My voice starts to tremble as my eyes being to water, I try to find my words again, "my mind is a dark place, a battlefield that no warrior would want to be in."

"When you say... when you say people prove to you that you're not enough," His voice sounded hoarse, but I ignored that as he finished his sentence, "what do you mean?"

"They show me, Thorin, with their actions... their words." I look at my arm in his hands, seeing the way his fingers glide along the bandages, tears were falling down my cheeks now, the wetness landing on the blanket that was covering my body, "they ignore me, they treat me as if I'm just a bed warmer, or that I'm only useful for one thing... I'm not important to anyone, he used to notice my pain, he noticed when I was shutting down but lately, it's like I'm invisible to him, like, he doesn't wish to read me anymore, not like he used to."

I refused to look at Thorin as the tears fell, "I was doing fine... I hadn't harmed myself in over a year, but something broke inside my soul, and I... I grabbed the closest thing to me and started too... I couldn't stop.." I hesitated before starting again, "I'm not strong Thorin, I don't know why I'm the one who's a part of this quest. There has to be someone else who is better qualified to travel with you and the company."

I quickly pull my arm back to my chest, scratching roughly at my arm where the bandages were, "hey don't do that, you'll..." Thorin quickly started, before he softly pulled my arm back to him, his eyes still on mine before he began to speak, "I'm fully aware that sorry isn't what you want to hear right now, so I'm not going to say sorry, nor will I know what you're going through, but, you are apart of this company. You are a part of this family that we have started," his words made my heart skip a beat, I feel my head shaking and was about to speak before he stopped me. "I know I haven't been the best towards you, and I'm trying to find my words to let you know why, but as of now, I'm more worried about you than I am about that. I will work on how I've treated you, just... I have one thing to ask of you, dear Tayler."

I looked into his eyes once more, "Promise me that you won't do it-"

"I can't promise that, because this is a new world, and I'm certain I won't be able to go back to mine, which is going to take a while for me to get used to. But I can let you know, same as I let Fili know, that if it gets back, I will try to find one of you when I'm hurting."

"That is why Fili got nervous about handing you a blade, and why he tried to fight me on it..." He offered out earning a nod from me, "That is correct... he's been worried since he saw the night I got here... He's a good man, Thorin, and he'll be a great king one day, after following in your footsteps."**

I could see his mind roaming into different thoughts that were soon interrupted by an elven maiden, "ah, Lady Tayler, you're awake" I smile softly as I nodded towards her just as Thorin excused himself from my room rather quickly but not before I feel him lean closer to me and whisper, "never believe that you're not strong. You are stronger than any dwarf, elf, hobbit or man."

"Would you wish to bathe before meeting with the others in the dining hall?" The elf maiden asked me, I gave a small nod as I looked up at her, "Please" I hear my voice whiper before she helps lead me towards the bathing house.

It was a smart decision to bathe, I felt a lot better, and now I was supporting a very flowy dark blue dress as Illyria, the elf maid who helped me, escorted me to where everyone was eating.

"Tay!" I turn when I hear the princes and I quickly move towards them, hugging them gently, "we thought we lost you" Kili's voice whispered as they hugged me before they pulled away.

"He thought that I did not, I knew you were a fighter, I believed you'd make it," I look at Fili with a smile before he helped me sit down.

"Aye lass, sporting the Durin royal colors I see, they look beautiful on you," I feel my face heat up as I hear Balin, I turn toward the dwarf who only nods, "they are, you didn't realize did you?" I looked down at the dress before giving a soft smile, no wonder I picked this dress, it matched what Thorin wore when he was first introduced in the movie. "I did, I figured that I'm a part of this company, so I should support it, what better way to wear the royal color to dinner in honor of our great king."

What I hadn't noticed during that time, was Dwalin nudging the king himself and the King facing me with a look full of adoration, that was quickly wiped away when I turned meeting his eyes which quickly looked elsewhere.

Tags: @tschrist1

[feralwritings]

three's company

part three

masterpost | part one | part two | interlude I: 1985

words: 5.3k

so, i ran into a bit of a problem. in scenes where there are other girly pops besides reader, the pronouns can get a little confusing. so, when you see an asterisk (*) next to a she/her/hers pronoun, that's you! hope this helps. let me know if it interrupts the flow at all, if it does i might just use 'reader' in place of a name.

warnings: proceed with the highest caution my dears cause this one is fucking gnarly. more specifically though, graphic depictions of violence against women and men, choking not the fun kind, tentacles again, not in the fun way, this author isn't even into that and was actively gagging while writing that, near drowning, upside down brand of torture, vecna is actively enjoying inflicting pain not in a sexual way he's just a fucking dick. also billy gets his shit fucking rocked. emetophobia warning.

“Holy shit, we thought you guys were goners.”

She and Eddie bent down to accept Dustin’s hug, both smiling fondly down at him when they pulled away. 

“Yeah,” she glanced at Eddie, who was looking at Steve, “We thought so too.”

Steve was next to hug her, winding his arms around her back and pulling her close to him, squeezing her a bit harder than the situation warranted, but she snorted into his shoulder, pushing his chest gently, “Good to see you, too.”

She fixed him with a slightly dubious glance, tilting her head and pressing her lips together before accepting the hug/tackle that Robin gave her. 

She embraced Robin for much longer, listening to Robin ranting in her ear and ranting back. Steve caught snippets of the story, and what he did hear was enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably.

When her and Robin finally extricated themselves, still standing rather close, they turned to the group at large, tuning into the conversation that Nancy and Eddie were having.

”Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asked.

”Yeah, I know exactly what time it was. Walkies not the only thing that got soaked,” Eddie tossed her his watch.

”9:27.” Nancy read, glancing at Robin.

”Same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

”Which means what, exactly?” Steve interjected, glancing at Nancy, to Robin, to Eddie, then back at Nancy.

”That surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

She* and Eddie both sucked in a breath, exchanging a glance before hurriedly looking away. Steve watched this exchange, his eyebrows furrowing together. 

As the group continued their conversation, her eyes landed on Dustin, who was pacing back and forth, looking out into the woods, hands on his hips, contemplative. 

“Dustin’s not cursed, is he?” Eddie asked, following her eye line to the boy.

Steve shook his head, “Cursed? No. He’s fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

“Boom!” Dustin exclaimed, making everyone jump out of their skin. Nancy turned her head so quickly that she must’ve gotten a crick.

As Dustin launched into an explanation of how he wasn’t wrong, arguing back and forth with Steve about compasses and faulty equipment and electromagnetic fields, she* spaced out, half listening to Dustin and half looking around the woods.

Anxiety bubbled in her chest. A large group of people like this was bound to get noticed, and with Jason on their tail, thinking that Eddie had not only murdered Patrick but was also holding *her hostage, it seemed ill-advised for a bunch of innocents tagging along with a pair of fugitives.

It was only when Robin, who was still stuck to her side said the phrase ‘snack size gate’ that she* was brought back down to earth with a rather unpleasant bump.

”Wait, a gate?” She glanced at Dustin, then Nancy.

”Yeah,” Dustin said, “Weren’t you listening?”

”Yeah, a bit, but how would there be a gate? And why?” *she asked, “Last time a gate was opened, it was Eleven, and she’s not here, so…”

”I don’t know. I just know that something is causing this. And last time we saw anything like this, it was a gate. And I hope it is, cause then we’d have a way to Vecna, and a shot at freeing Max from this curse,” Dustin gestured emphatically with the compass.

“We?” She* asked, raising an eyebrow, “Do you really think that if we find the gate, we’re going to let you or any of you other kiddies anywhere near it?”

Dustin looked affronted, “It’s my theory. I should get to go in.”

She* shook her head, “And we’re grateful, buddy, truly, but there is no way in hell you’re going into the Upside Down. Not happening.”

”Why?” Dustin whined. 

“Because you are fifteen years old, and going into the Upside Down is extremely dangerous. You could be killed.”

”So could you!”

”Doesn’t matter,” She had moved away from Robin now, and was approaching Dustin, “You’re our man in the chair, right? You’re the one running things most of the time. We gotta keep you safe. And letting you go into that hellscape is completely counterintuitive to what we’re trying to accomplish here, right?”

Dustin seemed pleased with the compliment, and the praise, but there was a vestige of defiance remaining. Lucas and Max looked at each other, identical expressions of exasperation painting their faces.

He turned to Eddie, “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Eddie’s gaze was fixed somewhere on the ground, pensive as he spoke, “I’d say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor. Which, if I’m being completely honest, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

He looked into the trees, his voice taking on a hint of nostalgia. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the canopy of leaves, and *she caught her breath, feeling that now familiar twist in her stomach whenever she looked at him. He was enigmatic. She was curious.

”But the shire,” He sighed, “The shire is burning.”

There was a rhythmic clunking sound as Dustin jumped up and down, the contents of his backpack shifting and banging against each other. Eddie stood with a flourish, setting his shoulders.

”So, Mordor it is.”

With that, Dustin turned on his heel and started marching in the direction that the compass was leading him, and everyone fell in line after him.

”What is Mordor?” Steve asked no one in particular.

”It’s from Lord of the Rings,” she* and Eddie said in unison, then looked at each other in surprise.

”You’ve read them?” Eddie asked, and she nodded, smiling.

”Yeah, I’ve read ‘em a few times.”

”I have the radio show that NPR did back in ‘79 on cassette. I sometimes listen to that if I don’t want to reread the books.”

She* grinned wide, “Fuck, that’s so cool. Are they good?”

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, offering his hand to help to make sure that she didn’t trip over a log, “Yeah, it’s pretty good,” he ducked under a branch that she moved out of the way, “If we survive this, you should come over and listen.”

She* chuckled softly, “Yeah, if we survive, it's a deal.”

They fell back into step behind Dustin, and as the sun began to set in the distance, Steve felt a sort of sinking feeling, watching everyone in the group fall into their own conversations. 

He didn’t know if there was anything to say. And even if there had been, he suspected it might be too late.

Setting out on the boat was no easy task.

They’d burst into a flurry of arguing shortly after uncovering it, and it took some convincing to get Dustin to stay on dry land. 

“Dustin, I know you wanna help,” Steve cajoled, “But we can’t do what we need to if we’re worrying about keeping you, Max and Lucas alive.”

”You don’t need to worry about me! I can handle myself.” Dustin insisted.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, “Tell ya what, if your theory is correct-“

”Which it is-“

”Then we’ll… talk about you going with us next time. Okay?”

Dustin seemed satisfied for the moment, confident in his theory and therefore very assured of the fact that he would be able to take on a more direct role.

As she* climbed into the boat after Steve, holding his hand for stability, she bent down and hissed, “Why on earth would you tell him that?”

They were already moving away from the shore, Eddie and Robin rowing the boat towards the middle of the lake, taking directions from Nancy, who had Dustin’s compass, and making adjustments as needed.

”It was the only way I could get him to shut up,” Steve shot back, letting go of her hand once she was settled on the floor of the boat, the benches occupied by the others.

She looked up at him, “You know he’s going to hold you to it, he always does.” She glanced back towards the shore.

”Tell me about Max. What’s going on with her?”

Steve sighed, recounting the events of the past few days. As he told her, her expression became more and more pinched until it looked like she was on the verge of tears.

”Jesus Christ,” She finally said, once he had finished telling her about the graveyard, “That poor kid. This must be so confusing for her. With Billy dying the way he did…”

Steve narrowed his eyes at her, “Yeah, but he… he had it coming.”

Robin was listening now, and every so often Nancy and Eddie would glance back at them.

”Not in that way,” She* clasped her hands around her knees, “He didn’t deserve to die, at least not in that way-“

”Are you serious?” Steve stared at her, “He nearly killed you and you’re telling me that he didn’t deserve to die?”

”He nearly killed all of us,” She reminded him, her gaze growing slowly more dangerous, “Not just me.”

Which, in essence, was true. Steve couldn’t really say that Billy had it out for her* when it seemed that he had it out for everyone. 

”Is there something you’re not telling me?” Steve bent low, trying to keep the conversation between them but he didn’t quite manage it, given the fact that they were in a tiny boat on an echoey lake, “Do you - did he say something to you? At Starcourt?”

”You know I don’t remember, Steve.”

”You told me that you didn’t remember, but I saw what he did to you-“

”And why would I tell you anything?” She hissed, voice rasping with restricted emotion, “It’s not like you stayed after-“

”Stop!” Nancy suddenly exclaimed, holding up a hand, her eyes focused on the compass.

Her* and Steve fell silent, and in the silence, they could hear the metallic needle of the compass whirring in the glass, a high pitched sort of ringing that made her* ears hurt a little.

Chh- “Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin’s voice sounded over the supercomm.

”Come on guys, talk to me.”

Robin recovered first, speaking into the walkie, “Your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ahhhh-“

Steve had begun stripping off his shoes and socks, catching everyone’s eye.

”Steve,” Nancy said, measured yet apprehensive, “What are you doing?”

”Someone’s gotta go down there and check it out.”

”And it just has to be you, doesn’t it?” She* said, rolling her eyes.

”I mean, unless you can beat being a Hawkins High swim team co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years,”

”Oh my god, I was literally on the swim team-“

”And you could never beat my time,” He pointed out, taking off his yellow sweater and tossing it at Eddie, “And, as I said, I was co-captain for three years.”

”Nepotism. And the only reason they kept voting for you is because everyone wanted to see you in your tiny little speedo.”

”And yet,” Steve prepared for his dive, giving a final look over his shoulder, a sarcastic, somewhat evil grin on his lips, “I never heard you complaining.”

And with that, he dove into the lake. She* stared at the spot where he had disappeared, glaring at the ripples, nostrils flared.

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like I hope he drowns, before settling back into the boat, arms crossed and expression even more so.

They dissolved into an awkward silence after that, the boat gently rocking back and forth on the little waves.

Robin was the first one to break the silence, glancing at *her frenetically, opening and closing her mouth before finally speaking, “Sooo, what was that?”

”No comment,” *She said, digging her nails into the flesh of her own arm.

“How long has it been?” *She asked Nancy, her voice betraying a shred of worry.

”Closing in on a minute.” Nancy said softly, keeping a sharp eye on her watch.

Suddenly, Steve burst from the water with a flourish, scaring everyone into yelling at least one expletive at him. 

“I found it.” Steve breathed, reaching out to hold onto the side of the boat. 

“You found it?”

“I found it, yeah.”

“Dustin, you’re a goddamn Einstein, Steve found the gate in the lake.” Robin said  breathlessly into the supercomm, but they were all so preoccupied with Steve that they hadn’t noticed they’d failed to get a response from the kids. 

“It’s pretty wild,” Steve pinched his nose, rubbing at his nostrils to rid them of water, “More of a snack size gate than the momma gate, but still pretty damn big.”

“Okay, showoff,” she* said, reaching out a hand for Steve to grab so she could haul him back up into the boat, “Just get your ass back in and we’ll figure out our next move.”

He grabbed her forearm, and she leaned back to pull him up when the boat gave a sharp lurch. 

“What the fuck was-“ Eddie began to say, but the rest of his sentence was swallowed by a rush of water in her ears as she was pulled under with Steve, her leg smashing into the rim of the boat as she went. 

She hadn’t had time to take a breath before her head went under, so her lungs burned the entire way down, watching as tendrils wrapped around Steve’s legs and pulled the both of them deeper. Steve had let go of her arm, gesturing wildly in the darkness but she couldn’t tell what he was trying to say, so she dug her fingers into the flesh of his forearm harder. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, and as the edges of her vision grew black and she took on water, they broke through the sticky membrane of the gate and fell hard to the dry ground below. 

He landed on his back and she landed on her chest, both letting out screams of pain. 

The tendrils had wrapped around her too, and they ripped her and Steve in opposite directions, dragging Steve on the bare flesh of his back against the rough ground, and her a much shorter distance, landing roughly in a nearby bed of undulating roots, which began to encircle her wrists and ankles, one snaking sinisterly up her spine, along the side of her neck and finally, securely over her mouth. 

The roots thrummed in recognition. 

They remembered her. 

You should be dead, they mused, I thought he had killed you. 

Through flashes of Steve struggling with unknown creatures, vision blacking out from the pain of the barbs that the vines possessed, the harsh pressure on her windpipe, she could see, almost like a window, Starcourt. 

It didn’t make any sense. The image of the mall grew larger, the edges seeping into the very corners of her vision until it was all she could see. 

The rest of the Upside Down fell away, the sounds of Steve screaming, the distant rolling thunder, everything. 

Instead, she felt the rumble of an engine below her. Hands that weren’t hers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles shining white against the neon blush on skin from the lights of the mall. 

Her own thoughts played in the back of whatever this was, like she was screaming at her own body from another room. 

She caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, and saw the bloodshot baby blues of Billy Hargrove staring back at her. 

As her mind sluggishly put together the pieces, she knew, distantly, what this was. 

Nancy’s Grand Prix came into view. 

As the car accelerated under him, Billy felt a thrill of fear when the first bullet hit the windshield. There was no stopping the car, try as some part of him might, with the voice in his head and in control of his hands, his feet, his body, he knew that impact was imminent.

As he sped closer, he zeroed in on her, on Nancy, face fixed in a snarl as she emptied the magazine into his windshield unblinkingly.

Ah, The Voice inside him said, and Billy could feel it’s - his - he could feel the cruel laughter, Her again. She will be dealt with. In time.

He was twenty feet away. 

Fifteen. 

Ten.

Suddenly, the world spun, and the only eyes he could see out of were the eyes of his precious creature, his beautiful creation, looking down upon the parking lot. Fire had erupted across the hood of the car, and Billy laid against the door, head lolling uselessly out of the window.

Humans, he considered as his creature jumped to the pavement below, tearing after the car that was speeding away from the mall. So fragile.

It was the heat that woke Billy. The sharp spikes of pain all over his body were enough to rouse him, and as he opened the door and collapsed out of it, he heard distant voices, frantic and labored. 

He peered into the distance, four figures coming in and out of focus.

“How we doin, El?” A female voice spoke, someone familiar to Billy, and The Voice felt it too, some old annoyance, not unlike a persistent fly buzzing around his head, distracting him, “Keep her talking, Mike, she’s gotta stay awake.”

“I’m trying!”

He heard the metallic creaking next, and as he drew closer, he saw a flash of yellow.

Eleven.

His heart leapt in excitement, in triumph, that the one he had been searching for all this time had walked right out into his midst, like an innocent little lamb being led to slaughter. It was almost too perfect.

The tallest figure spotted Billy first.

“Fuck, turn around,” She said, stepping in front of the three smaller figures, in front of Eleven, raising some sort of weapon in her arms.

“What?” The boy said, hitching Eleven higher on his shoulder. His knuckles were white from the ferocity of his grip on her, “Oh, shit, go go go go go go!”

Together, he and the redheaded child -

Max, Billy thought miserably, Max.

Her name does not matter. She’ll be dead soon anyway. Together, he and Max dragged Eleven back towards the door, and The Annoyance stood her ground. Behind her, the gate slid closed.

“You and me, Hargrove,” She cooed, grinning, “Just like old times, whaddya say?”

She seemed as bloodthirsty as he felt, and the complete lack of fear in her gaze, the almost maniacal smile on her lips… had she not tried to derail his plan at every turn, she may have made a good ally. There was a darkness within her that he could sense, that he could feel coursing through her veins as he watched her carotid jumping in her neck.

There was no time for that now. She had made it abundantly clear that she was going to continue to be a thorn in his side, poking and prodding.

He simply had to prune the poison away. That was all.

She cocked her head, swinging her weapon - an axe, he now saw - low to the ground, taunting him, “Come on, aren’t you gonna do anything?”

Billy’s body was his only vessel at the moment, so he had to approach this carefully. One misstep and his vessel could be reduced to a useless pile of limbs.

His creature wouldn’t make it back in time to capture Eleven.

So, he charged towards her left, and at the last moment, changed course, feinting to her right.

The swing of the axe had unbalanced her enough that he was able to seize a hank of her hair and slam her face into the metal gate. She screamed in pain, the impact shocking her into dropping the axe. He kicked it away, sending it skittering across the pavement.

Evidently, she had learned from her last encounter with Billy, using her weight to twist and unbalance him in turn, sinking a well aimed but somewhat weak punch to Billy’s gut, as she hadn’t had time to properly wind up.

She used her momentum to sweep his leg with a powerful kick, shoving him to the ground. She kneeled on his chest, her other knee trapping his arm, and she seized the crown of his head and began slamming it repeatedly into the cement below.

The fortification of his essence running through Billy’s veins had made him stronger, smarter, so with the arm that wasn’t pinned, he landed a blow to her ribs, feeling them crack beneath his knuckles.

She did not relinquish her hold on him, seizing his wrist before he could swing it again, digging her nails brutally into his flesh.

He planted the soles of his feet on the ground, lifting his pelvis in a sharp thrust, knocking her off of his chest, and onto the ground. He scrambled to pin her, winding his hands around her neck, keeping his elbows locked, pressing all of his body weight down.

She wound her hands around his wrists, trying in vain to claw them away from her throat, thrashing wildly beneath him. Then, she raised her knee in a sharp line, hitting him directly in the groin.

Of all of the injuries that she had inflicted upon Billy’s body so far, this one was the worst. The shock of it reverberated through Billy’s body, and control of his limbs waned between the two parts of Billy’s mind, his grip slackening enough for her to be able to throw him off, rolling on her back and onto her feet in a crouch.

She spat blood out of her mouth, looking at him through her lashes, a dark purple bruise already blooming on her cheekbone. She was moving away from him, the toes of her sneakers circling backward as she inched towards the burning Camaro. 

“You’ll never save them,” He taunted, slinking towards her, towering over her.

“We’ll see about that,” She said, “I’ve kept them alive this long. What’s a little longer?”

“You’ll die trying,” He stated, simply, as if they were having a conversation about the weather, “And I’ll make you watch as I end them, and I will make sure the last thought in that pretty little head of yours is how you failed them.”

“Aww,” She gave him a glowing, sarcastic smile, “You really think I’m pretty?”

She used his momentary distraction of his threat not landing to stoop down quickly, seizing a jagged piece of glass from the shattered windshield, and came at him with it, swiping for his jugular.

He ducked out of the way, seizing her forearm and twisting it behind her back, and she cried out in pain as he used her own wrist to thrust the piece of glass into her back.

Chest to chest, he could feel her heartbeat racing against her ribcage. There was still that fire in her eyes, that willful and idiotic defiance. He could be severing her spinal cord right now, he could feel her blood seeping around his fingers, but she still stood on her own two feet, ready to challenge him, to fight him until her last breath.

It was a delicious challenge, sure, and he relished the fear he could feel, but this was getting tiresome, and with every minute that passed, Eleven had a better chance of escaping. Not that she would, he’d make sure of that, but this journey had been so hard fought, filled with so much pain, so much agony, so much needless and inconvenient bloodshed that he was growing wary. His goal was in sight, and he couldn’t allow himself to get continually distracted.

She reared back and spat in his face, and as the blood and saliva mixed with Billy’s, dripping into his mouth, a flood of memories washed over him.

Two toddlers on a hot afternoon’s day, splashing each other in a small pool, the edges of which were lined with colorful fish. Two children, older, riding bikes down an autumn streaked road, shouts of laughter echoing off of the picket fenced houses. The ruined face of a teenage boy, blood streaked and bruised, her delicate hand pressing a cool cloth into a gash along the bridge of his nose, his big brown eyes boring into hers. An almost kiss between a shared cigarette on a row of bleachers, chilly night air pressing into them. The exchange of an ice cream cone over a counter, a warm smile and a nametag reading ‘Steve’ flashing under fluorescent lights.

And, suddenly, he understood why she fought so hard. Why she had fought Billy so hard all that time ago, and why, even now, as she grew weaker in his grasp, she fought.

Love.

How fucking pathetic.

“Oh, you poor thing,” He drawled, “He’ll never feel the same. If Steve cared about you at all, he’d be here.” 

He glanced around theatrically, and when his eyes landed on her face again, that fire was extinguished, finally, by the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“But he’s not,” He brushed away a tear as it fell, “And he never will be.”

He caressed her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering. He wound his fingers into her hair, whipping her around and he slammed her face against the hood of the Camaro.

She went limp, finally, collapsing onto the ground, cheek resting against the rough gravel.

She didn’t move again.

“Steve! Where is she?”

“I don’t- she wasn’t - we got separated-”

“Fuck!”

“She’s gotta be here somewhere, fucking look!” 

All of their voices mingled, high and low tones of mingled desperation, fear and rage.

“She can’t have gotten far,” Eddie reasoned tearfully, “She’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Steve,” Robin gasped, “You’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care.”

“Like a lot.”

“Robin, just-”

“No! Shut up and let me-”

Nancy had torn off wordlessly in what seemed to be a random direction, but as Eddie’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the Upside Down, he saw a heap of vines, thick, tangled cables, undulating and encircling, almost lovingly, a body.

Her body.

Eddie followed suit, leaping over tangles of vines and debris, landing in a slide next to Nancy, who was tugging at the vines with her bare hands, grunting with the effort.

The sight was nothing short of horrible. Her irises had turned milky white, and every few seconds she jerked and gurgled around the tendril that was intubating her. The whites of her eyes had burst capillaries. She couldn’t breathe. She was dying, right before their eyes.

Steve and Robin had joined them by now, fruitlessly tugging at the tendrils. Eddie gripped the tendril that was slinking its way down her throat, and tugged.

At first, he was met with resistance, but as Steve shouted something, Eddie couldn’t really tell what it was, and Robin pleaded and Nancy managed to free one of her hands, the tendril’s hold grew weaker, and soon enough, he was ripping it from her mouth.

Color flooded back into her irises as she launched herself out of the bed of vines, scrambling away on her hands and knees. She braced herself on one arm as the other came to encircle her stomach, and she retched, coughing up some gelatinous substance mixed with blood and lake water. Her hair hung lankly around her face as she stayed hunched over.

Four pairs of hands were on her in an instant. Steve at the front, cupping her face and pulling it level with his, one of Eddie’s on top of Steve’s as they both crowded in front of her, looking into her face. Nancy had one hand rubbing soothing circles into her back, and Robin was brushing her hair away from her forehead.

“You’re okay,” Robin whispered, almost like a prayer, “You’re okay, you’re okay, it’s okay.”

“Look at me,” Steve pleaded, “Can you breathe?”

“Let her catch her breath, man, she just had a fucking - whatever that was down her throat, it’s gonna take her a second-”

She clasped a shaking hand on each of their shoulders, and shoved both Eddie and Steve bodily away from her, doubling over once more to vomit a final time, before rolling onto her back, limbs going boneless, staring up at the crimson streaked sky.

“That,” she heaved, sniffling, “sucked.”

Nancy let out a strangled laugh and bent over her, smoothing a hand across her forehead, “Welcome back.”

“Hi, Nance,” She reached up to pat Nancy’s cheek clumsily, “Is everyone okay?”

They all murmured that they were, and she looked around, taking in her surroundings.

When Steve came into her field of vision, she swallowed thickly, expression tightening, and once her eyes fell on his neck and chest, she frowned, “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He helped her sit up, resting her back against his chest, “God, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Jury’s still out,” she rasped, reaching for Robin, squeezing her hand, before turning in Steve’s grasp to look at Eddie, and she reached out to touch him as well, brushing a shaking hand over his face. He gave her a watery smile, turning to brush his lips against the pads of her fingers as her hand fell away. He wasn’t sure that anyone noticed.

Once she had made sure that everyone was okay, and tangible, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I should get hurt more often,” She mused, easing herself out of Steve’s grasp and slowly getting to her feet, Robin and Nancy helping her, “You all are so cute when you’re worried.”

“Don’t even start,” Robin huffed, slinging an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as she got her bearings.

“Least she’s still got a sense of humor,” Steve said, helping Eddie to his feet.

Nancy watched this entire exchange warmly, running a hand through her wet hair, “Well, we should-”

A distant screech swallowed the rest of her sentence. They all turned, eyes landing on the pulsating, scarlet gate as winged creatures surrounded it, bearing their teeth menacingly, chittering and screeching.

“What the hell are those?” She* asked, eyes growing wide in fear.

“Bats.” Steve said, “They attacked me, nasty little-”

“You told me not to worry!” She* wailed, taking better stock of his injuries, “Jesus Christ, Steve.”

“Do you think these bats have rabies?” Robin asked, shining her flashlight in the direction of a bat corpse.

Steve glanced at her, before turning his attention back to the ones that were surrounding the gate, “What?”

“Well,” Robin sighed, “It’s just, like, rabies are my number one greatest fear, and I think we should get you to a doctor soon, cause once the symptoms set in, it’s too late, and you’re dead-”

“Wonderful,” She* groaned.

Steve was lowering into a half crouch, eyes trained animalistically on the gate, “We can take them, right? It’s not that many.”

As if in response to his question (and, knowing the hive mind, it probably was) a moving, jagged cloud appeared in the distance. As it came into view, hundreds of distinct little flapping shadows loomed over them.

“You were saying?” Robin squeaked.

Nancy turned to look at the woods, and then at her*, “Can you run?”

She* cocked an eyebrow, “Do I have a choice?”

Nancy shook her head, “Not really, no.”

As the swarm drew closer, they sprinted in the direction of the woods, and soon enough, they were swallowed by a lifeless, decaying forest, thunder rumbling in the distance.

As the perpetual night pressed in on them, poisonous dust entered their lungs as they sucked in air, they all had some inkling of what they were facing, and what they were running towards.

But none better than her*. She finally knew the depths of what had happened last year, the story behind each scar on her skin. The reason for the phantom pain that woke her in the night, the confusing and aimless night terrors that never made any sense, and that were gone by the morning, stored away in the shadowy recesses of her mind.

She knew that this ecosystem knew her. She knew that it understood her.

And she knew, looking at her friends, these people that she loved, that she cherished, that Vecna was never going to stop until he had taken everything from her.

Everything.

[dindjarindiaries]

DIN DJARIN: PROMPTS & HEADCANONS

Each story below focuses on Din Djarin, with pairings for each story indicated along with summaries.

Stories marked with an asterisk (*) contain sexual, though not explicit/graphic, content.

My ratings are as follows: G (all ages), T (13+), M (18+)

Last updated: September 16, 2024

main masterlist • one-shots • series • drabbles

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

“Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!” / “You saved my life.” / Taking care of the other when sick or injured (x)

“I love you.” / “Can I kiss you?” (x)

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” / “Sit down, I‘ll get it.” (x)

“You’re cute when you’re half asleep.” / “How long have you been standing there?” (x)

“Don’t cry.” / “Stay there, I’m coming to get you” (x)

“You’re jealous!” / “I think I love you” (x)

“I’m sorry, but… who are you?” / “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression” / “I’ve got you” (x)

“Shh. Don’t cry.”/ “I’d hurt anyone who ever left a scar on you.” (x)

“Lay your head in my lap and try to get some rest.” (x)

Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” and “I’ve been in love with you for years” (x)

“Actually… I just miss you.” (x)

Whispering “I love you” when you think they’re asleep one night, but you don’t know they’re still awake until after the words have left your lips. (x)

“Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” (x)

“I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.” (x)

“You’re lying to me again. Why can’t you just tell me the truth for once?” / “I’m leaving.” “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do.” (x)

“Is that vodka? At 7 in the morning?” (x)

“But it’s my fault, right?” (x)

“You look like something’s bothering you… You can talk to me if you need to.” (x)

“No… No! Come on, I can’t lose you!” / “You make me feel safe.” / “Don’t let me go.” (x)

“Can I give you a hug? You look upset.” (x)

“You didn’t deserve that… You deserve so much better.” (x)

“Your voice is so relaxing.” (x)

“I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” (x)

“Are you equipped to deal with this?" “Absolutely not.” (x)

“Let me have a look.” / “Tell me who did this to you.” (x)

“Who did this to you?” [silence] “Hey, look at me. Who did this to you?” / “Nobody is going to hurt you.” “But—” “You’re safe.” / “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” (x)

“Are you crying?” (x)

“I don't have anyone anymore.” "You have me.” (x)

"How long are you gonna sit there?" "All night if I have to." (x)

“Well, if anybody were to kiss me, I would want that person to be you.” (x)

“Somebody’s in love!” (x)

"I swear, if you die, I'll kill you twice." "I love you too much to die twice." "Rightfully so." (x)

"Just to clarify: me holding your hand doesn't, like, mean anything, by the way. Not in that way, at least. Unless you want it to mean something. I don't mind. That's cool." / "..." "..." "Do you want to kiss?" "Yeah." (x)

“Are they making you uncomfortable? I can do something about it.” (x)

“How long did you think you could hide that?” (x)

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.” (x)

“Talk to me.” / ‘Would it help if I stayed?“ (x)

“Just breathe, it’ll be over soon.” / “I’m sorry—.” “No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” (x)

“They’re coming for you. Right? That’s why you’re pushing me away like an idiot? Because you don’t want me getting hurt?” / “You say you’re dangerous. That you destroy everything you touch. So destroy me. Ruin me. Tear me apart, and let me love you all the same.” (x)

“I knew you’d feel guilty; You do understand that I’d take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don’t you?” / “​​Why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected?” / “I’m going to protect you, now. Because that’s what we do for the ones we love. We keep them safe.” (x)

Admiring them when they’re asleep & “I’m okay. You can go back to sleep.” (x)

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?” “I dropped everything to be with you! Everything!” / “Don’t you want the same?” (x)

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?” (x)

“Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!” (x)

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” (x)

“If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be.” (x)

“You could have died, you know.” “I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” / “I’m afraid of losing you, okay?” (x)

“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.” / “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.” (x)

“Why is it that whenever we see each other, you’re always covered in blood?” (x)

“You need to distract me. Do something, anything.” (x)

“Why not tonight? I’m even wearing something pretty.” / “Give me a little show.” / “Make me.” (x)

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay… it’s okay. You’re okay.” / “I’ve never cared for anyone the way I care for you.” / “Well, I do feel better now that you’re here.” (x)

CONCEPT PROMPTS

There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling (x)

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand (x)

There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close, Overhearing they have feelings for you (x)

You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up and “You saved my life” (x)

Painting the house that ends in a paint fight and giggles (x)

There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close (x)

Blurting out a confession of love (x)

You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up (x)

You took a bullet for me (x)

Working out together (x)

Accidentally confessing feelings (x)

Forehead kisses but it's the male being kissed on the forehead (x)

Giving them a sudden hug from behind (x)

Feeling so lonely that they have to call their lover, just to get a sense and reminder that they’re still there (x)

Staring at them and admiring them all day, hoping they won’t notice (they definitely do) (x)

KISS PROMPTS

Forbidden/secret kiss (x)

Caught off-guard kiss (x)

Against a wall kiss (x)

Drunk kiss in someone’s lap (x)

A hoarse whisper “kiss me” (x)

Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead (x)

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it (x)

A kiss pressed to the top of the head and a lingering kiss before a long trip apart (x)

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it (x)

Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss (x)

A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss, an accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose, and a kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck (x)

A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss (x)

Giggling while kissing (x)

Kisses in the rain (x)

Argument/Screaming match leading to kissing (x)

Kissing as a distraction (x)

HEADCANONS

All Din asks (for mobile, search the “din asks” tag on my blog manually to view them) (x)

Kids/Family with Din (x)

Taking care of injuries with Din (x)

Marriage with Din (x)

Pregnancy with Din (x)

First fight/make up with Din (x)

Cuddling, touching, and what “turns them on” with Din (x)

Bathing/showering with Din (x)

Drunk Din (x)

Softness while bathing with drunk Din (x)

Softness and sickness with confession Din (x)

Lazy days with Din (x)

Separation with Din (x)

Cuddling with Din (x)

Din with a nose ring and tattoos (x)

Din with tattoos (x)

Din & comforting (x)

Din easing you to sleep (x)

Din trying to flirt (x)

Din and hugs (x)

Valentine’s Day with Din (x)

main masterlist • one-shots • series • drabbles

[im-the-punk-who]

Malex and touch in S3!!

tw: brief mention of the 2x06 airstream scenes (**asterisked if you wanna skip it)

So another thing I’m thinking about in terms of Michael and Alex’s growth in season 3 is that we’re seeing them not just communicate more with words, but with touch as well.

For so much of their relationship, sex was their primary method of communication. Not just touch, but sexual touch. They didn’t bump shoulders, or hold hands, lean a head on a shoulder or use any sort of casual touch to communicate fondness or emotion. (The notable exception to this would be 1x03 in the airstream and 1x12 at Caulfield - moments in which we’re shown them either actively trying to change the patterns of their behavior or being emotionally vulnerable with each other)

All of their other interactions were charged with an urgency and an assumption that any touch would lead to a sexual encounter because there was no other alternative. 

And it’s such a sign of progress that not only are Michael and Alex talking to each other in words, they’re talking to each other with touch as well. It was how they initially formed that connection - the scenes between teen Malex are much more in line with the kind of casual intimate touch that a relationship needs to thrive(even before they’re together). When Michael keeps a hold of Alex’s arms at prom as he’s checking on him, the way Alex brushes his arm and hand over Michael’s arm as he leaves, the shoulder rub after they hook up - they initiate touch for the sake of touch and for the sake of communicating with touch.

But then the line goes cold, and they don’t talk for a decade, with their words or their bodies. They fuck, but only fuck; because the lines of communication are so closed they can only be felt when they’re both screaming for that connection but also so desperately needed .

We see that start to change in season 2 - once communicating by other means is a necessity since sex is of the table. (When Michael squeezes Alex’s leg when he tells Alex not to blame himself for the mistakes of his family in 2x04 and the hug in 2x12 when Michael is finally allowed to see Alex. **(But, we also see them fail - in 2x06, they fall back on that sexual chemistry instead of like. talking about....any o’ what’s happening. Because talking is too hard for the intensity of the emotions they’re feeling in those moments. Which we see proven in the morning after scene when they attempt to talk about the feelings and events of the night before but can’t aside from a few awkward if heartfelt bomb-drops.)**

Now, though, we’re seeing that line open up again. Both words and touch.

Michael has initiated touches meant to comfort multiple times now and Alex has not only accepted them but sought them out himself. In the truck when Michael caresses Alex’ face, after their kiss in 3x08 when Alex leans his head into Michael’s shoulder, in 3x09 after Michael pulls Alex off the ledge, they stay in close proximity to each other after Alex has steadied, hugging and being close for the comfort and not just for the necessity - and in the exam room afterwards we see Michael stroking Alex’s arm when he opens up about his conversation with Sanders.

And for Michael this may just be a matter of being allowed - he’s rarely been allowed to touch Alex like this before. But I think it also has to do with the fact that he is able to respond to an affirmation Alex has given him - words - with a response in kind.

For Alex though? This is absolutely revolutionary. In almost all of his relationships we hadn’t previously seen Alex seeking physical comfort in any way. When he hugs people, he doesn’t lean into it. When he kisses someone they always have to come to him. He doesn’t rest his head on people, or sit close enough to them to casually bump legs, etc. So to see him now actively leaning into this sort of comfort says so much about the kind of vulnerability he’s trying to cultivate and that he feels safe enough around Michael to be vulnerable like that. I just. It’s so much. It’s so much!!

[danganronpadespairtime]

OK, the ask box is open. Mainly if you are confused about some things regarding production or the story, I will try to answer. (You can send in an ask even if you don’t have a Tumblr account.)

I will respond all in this post for organization. There may be spoilers for chapter 1.

Anonymous asked:

Hey! Is there any music used in the prologue/chapter 1 that isn't available on YouTube? I think there were one or two songs that were missing from the playlist that I was looking forward to listening to. (The one I can think of plays at 12:09 in episode 9.) -- Also, that hug in chapter 1 made me sob, thanks for that. And I appreciate the diversity in the cast!

There are two songs that I could not find when compiling the playlist; I think they were taken down.

Silver - ISAo (one of the trial theme)

Insane Walking - SOUNDEVOTEE (investigation theme)

Both are from DOVA-syndrome.

Anonymous asked:

...I know that you get this question a lot, but have you got any tips for making a fanganronpa? Also, I hope you feel better soon :) 

There is no profit to be gained from making a fangan, so it’s driven just by your motivation. You should make it in the way that you enjoy most. Some parts might not be perfect, and you might worry that it won’t be well received. But as long as you had fun and you’re happy with yourself, that’s what’s important.

Anonymous asked: 

did xander say david had a tiktok??

Go back and count the number of asterisks.

I thought it was a fairly straightforward reference to “TEDTalk,” but now I wonder if younger people still watch those.

Anonymous asked:

What are MonoTV’s pronouns?

MonoTV is genderless and does not care what you address it as. In-story MonoTV is addressed as “it”.

Anonymous asked:

How does MonoTV walk, if he can walk at all?? Pls respond I am so confused

No walking, just wheels. It looks a little strange in motion.

Anonymous asked:

What are the rules regarding AUs, specificially 'what if' type stories?

Anonymous asked:

What are the rules on fanfiction?

You need rules? Just go do it if you want to.

Anonymous asked:

Is Hu Jing actually capable of speaking Chinese? I know her name is Chinese however, I'm curious about that fact.

Yes

Anonymous asked:

are fans allowed to rp as drdt characters?

(revised response)

I will not disallow roleplaying for the time being, but please do not put roleplay in DRDT tags of any kind (#drdt, #danganronpadespairtime, etc).

Anonymous asked:

I’ve noticed that the characters have eye patterns present in their sprites that aren’t usually visible in CGs, and was wondering if Min had a canon design in hers! Or, perhaps just plain pink ones? As long as that isn’t spoilers, of course.

It is like this. If described in words I would say it’s “really pink” and “really shiny”

To my memory I have always put the eye patterns into CGs but perhaps I missed a few or it wasn’t visible after compression.

Anonymous asked: 

I know you don't want to have a discord server because of the social interaction. But are you ok with fans making their own unofficial fan servers? 

Yes, it’s allowed. Please maintain such servers as 16+ only.

Anonymous asked: 

What’s each cast member’s favorite food?

Instead of giving a straightforward answer, here is “preferences for food”, since I think that leaves more open to imagination.

Teruko: food that is fresh; food that can be prepared with minimal danger (knives, stoves, etc.)

Xander: food that is spicy or has a really strong flavor

Charles: food that is nostalgic and reminds you of childhood

Ace: food that is healthy and low in calories

Arei: cute food for a cute girl!

Rose: food that is filling (because she often forgets to eat)

Levi: food that is really sugary. really, really, really sugary

Hu: big dishes that you eat together with family or friends

Eden: food that is fun to make or prepare

Arturo: “fancy” food that makes him feel upscale

Min: food that is quick to prepare and can be eaten while studying (not messy)

David: food that is easy to make

J: food that makes her feel cool while eating it

Veronika: food that is “weird” and “exotic”

Whit: food with dairy and sweet

Nico: food that is unprocessed and natural

Anonymous asked: 

are charles and j hispanic/latino?

Yes, as could be guessed on their names.

On a similar note, many characters ethnicity can be assumed by the name, but I feel a good portion of the cast would have had their last names from many generations of living in the US and may have a wider ancestry than would be suggested. Sometimes when asking where someone is from they pause for a bit and then list 7 or 8 countries, on their mother’s side or their great grandfather or such and such... It’s a bit like that.

Oh, that reminds me, both J and her father kept their last name from the mother (not a particularly plot important detail but it may interest you). Maybe we’ll learn about her family too sometime.

Anonymous asked: 

Is Whit biracial? I've seen the theory pop up thanks to his father's name, but the opinions I've seen on it are generally split.

Yes. Father is Chinese, mother is White American. He was mostly raised by his mother in the US for the first part of his life, so he probably doesn’t have a lot of Chinese experiences. Not to mention that his dad is... possibly a little absent. Maybe a lot absent.

On a similar note, so is Eden. Mother is black, father is Japanese. She lived in Japan for a small period of time while younger then moved to the US.

Anonymous asked:

Are there any canonical neurodivergant characters/characters with a mental disorder?

First of all, I need to clarify that I am in no way an expert on mental health. My research on the subject stems from things I find on the internet, listening to others’ experiences, and drawing on my own. Surely this is not enough to be able to completely handle the subject of mental illness with the amount of nuance and care as would be ideal, especially as it gets to some of the more divisive topics.

Mental health is a wide spectrum with more diversity than classification into mental disorder boxes would suggest. When I make characters, I don’t pick a disorder out of the DSM-5 and then unload the associated symptoms and traits into the character. Characters express various traits for a variety of reasons, and sometimes a cluster of those traits can be associated with some mental disorder.

Naturally, there’s nothing wrong with writing in that method I described above. I bring it up so that I can note that due to my particular writing process, diagnosing characters with a mental illness would come after the fact. I would have to look at the cast as they are now, and decide if I think that their traits and mannerisms fit the symptoms of some mental disorder. Diagnosis is no trivial task! It's something that even trained mental health professionals (which I am not) struggle with sometimes. Otherwise, that common experience of "I didn't know what was wrong with me for 10 years" certainly wouldn't be as common. To that extent, I don't know for certain with some of these characters. Should I make a definitive diagnosis based on my limited knowledge, search for some better label, or leave it at that? Is this character depressed with a capital D or are they just expressing sadness within the normal bounds of a neurotypical person? Where's the boundary between neurotypical and neurodivergent, anyway?

I know that lots of people see themselves and their mental illnesses in fictional characters. If you do, that's great! I'm glad I was able to write a character that could resonate with you so personally. Would it be better if such relatability arose from the smattering of their various character traits, or because I was intentionally trying to give representation to a specific mental illness? I don't know.

I know that diagnosis isn't just a category you slap onto someone and call it a day, even if I seem to have been making it out as such. Being formally diagnosed can have a big impact on someone's life, especially if they seek specific treatment or experiences as a result of such. In this way, I can at least give one objective answer. There are three characters who, in story, would have been formally diagnosed and received professional treatment of some kind. Those three are [SPOILER], [SPOILER], and [SPOILER]. The rest remain in some sort of subjective limbo, and who's to say whether your or my interpretation is better (apart from the fact that I know a little more about these characters than most this early on into the story)?

I'm sorry, this may not be the answer you were looking for. It may have been frustrating to ask for representation and then be told you have to look for it yourself. I'm not a professional writer; I'm Literally Just Some Guy who thought it would be a fun little project to make a Fanganronpa in his free time. Some topics are tricky to navigate and become even more trickier when put in the context of a story where a bunch of teens must murder each other and then die, to the extent that even a seasoned team of writers would have difficulty handling everything with delicacy. Much less a doofus like me, who had to change Xander's last name from "Goodchild" because it was too silly and dumb.

Anonymous asked:

First of all, i love this danganronpa, and my question is, why the non-stop debate and the scrum debate didn't have voice acting? And thank you for giving us this masterpiece  <3

It was my first time working with voice acting so I wanted to start out small. I think in the future I will think about adding voice acting to mini-games.

Anonymous asked:

How did Ace get his scar on his face? And is it the reason why he's always nervous?

He fell off a horse one day and landed on his face.

If a minor face scar is the only problem he has, then he has nothing to complain about. Unfortunately for him and anyone within viewing or hearing radius, complaining is all he does.

Anonymous asked: 

Canon sexualities? 

Unless it comes up in the story, I like to leave these things to viewer interpretation.

Anonymous asked: 

What’s everyone in the cast’s nationality?

Teruko: legally in question

Everyone else: American

Xander is the only person with an obvious accent, but in spite of that, he’s American. He is born and raised in the US. He went to school overseas and picked up the accent there.

Anonymous asked: 

Apparently Teruko and Arei are Japanese. Have you thought of any particular kanji that would match their names? Very often name kanji carry some sort of symbolism.

投石【なげ ・ いし】亜鈴【あ ・ れい】

田脇【た ・ わき】暁子【て る ・ こ】

飛佐【とび ・ さ】楽【いーでん】(The pronunciation of ”Eden” has been anglicized somewhat because her American-born mom likes the English name “Eden”)

静湖 (jìng hú)

Anonymous asked:

Will there be any free time events? 

There already are. Ch1ep4 was almost exclusively that.

Anonymous asked: 

Does Whit ship his classmates? And if so who?

Matchmaking is his job, not his hobby, and he won't do it casually/without pay. "Matchmaker" is indeed a vague term that encompasses a variety of actions and occupations, but in Whit's case it refers to a specific profession that, among other things, is contracted, non-personal, and requires consent from at least one party. Whit's flirty personality is mostly a joking act, and he is actually a little prudish when it comes to the romantic lives of his personal friends outside of jokes.

On a similar note, please keep this in mind: while some of the cast may consider their talents as hobbies, for all of them they are definitely professions. (It is not clear through the talent name, but Xander's profession is activism work.) The exceptions are Min (for whom academics is not a profession but definitely a full-time occupation), and Teruko (for obvious reasons).

Anonymous asked:

How do you feel about fan theories about DRDT, and would you want to see any shared on Twitter, Tumblr, etc?

You’re free to make and share fan theories as you wish. I tend not to look at these sorts of things so you’re on your own.

Anonymous asked: 

how did arturo eat the cake

He takes his mask off to eat and then immediately puts it back on if he wants to talk, a nonsense habit he has solely to save me from drawing more sprites

Anonymous asked:

So does this take place in the canon games, or is it an original story? What’s the deal with this US Hope’s Peak?

There will be further elaboration on such things in the story. But for now I think there are some important points to note to prevent misconceptions:

J was intentionally vague when she talked about how Hope's Peak was built in the US. Rather than being an affiliated branch, it's more as if the concept of “Ultimates” and a school to foster Ultimates was imported to the West.

So then, Hope's Peak Academy in the US retains it's name for historical reasons, but it is very different from HPA of the games in many ways. For instance, Hope's Peak is post-secondary education, not high school*. Perhaps further differences will be elaborated on in more detail later on.

The story takes place in the game's universe (the exact relation is left ambiguous for now).

*On this note, they all believe themselves to be around 18 (not accounting for the variation in birth months or those who may have skipped or repeated a grade), but may be any number of years older than 18 due to potential memory loss.

Anonymous asked: 

sooo... teruko is left handed? seems like an odd detail. who else is left handed??

Teruko is left-handed. Arei is ambidextrous. Everyone else is right-handed.

Anonymous asked:

Is there any splash art?

No. I don’t plan to make any, but I may change my mind in the future. In general I want to focus on making the story as quickly as possible, so extraneous stuff like this gets put in the backseat.

Anonymous asked:

Are these characters hair colors naturally like that because of anime stuff, or are some of them dyed? If so, what’re their normal hair colors?

These characters have dyed hair:

Whit (originally black)

Eden (originally just brown)

J (originally just black)

Ace (originally maroon, but it started turning gray from stress, which he doesn’t like thinking about. So he tries to dye it back to it’s natural color)

Teruko (not dyed per se, but it started turning gray recently)

Everyone else’s hair colors are natural.

Xander used to dye his hair black once although he clearly doesn’t do that anymore.

Veronika’s hair streaks are natural; they’ve been there since birth.

Anonymous asked:

Does Charles actually need the goggles (as some sort of substitute for glasses) or does he wear them just because??? 

They’re just safety goggles. You’d think he wouldn’t wear them all the time because it makes his vision yellow, but he’s stubborn. On a similar note, his lab coat is slightly oversized (sleeves are too long) but he’s not willing to admit he bought the wrong size.